Chapter 3:The Alpha and the Lie
1507 Words
POV: Ryan Blackthorne
She looked at me like I’d just told her the sky was green.
Fair.
I’d spent 18 years learning to control my face. It didn’t help. The second my skin touched hers behind the school, the bond hit, and every rule my father drilled into me went up in smoke.
Unclaimed wolf. Late bloomer. Stronger than anyone in North Ridge at her age.
And mine.
The word didn’t belong in my head. Not with Seraphina’s engagement contract sitting in my father’s safe. Not with the Blood Accord hanging over every wolf in this county.
But it was there.
Mine.
I walked away from her because if I didn’t, I’d have pulled her into me and damn the consequences.
Now I was pacing the roof of the old library at 1 AM, trying to figure out how to tell a girl she was a werewolf without getting us both killed.
The scratching started again from the basement.
Faint. Rhythmic. Patient.
That thing had been down there for 20 years. My grandfather sealed it himself after it killed three kids from East Pack. The wards were failing. I could feel it.
And Aria was connected to it somehow. The feral had called her kin. It was wrong, but it wasn’t random. Her scent was off. Stronger. Older. Like her blood had been in the family lines longer than mine.
Late bloomer didn’t explain it.
Nothing explained it.
The roof door opened.
“Thought you’d be here,” Kiera said. My Beta. Loyal. Blunt. Dangerous when she needed to be.
“You shouldn’t be out,” I said without turning. “Dad’s got patrols out for the feral.”
“Yeah, well, they’re looking in the wrong place.” She stepped beside me. “You’re bleeding.”
I looked down. Cut across my ribs from the feral’s claws. It was already closing.
“Not my blood.”
“Right.” Her eyes narrowed. “Talk.”
I told her. Everything. The bond. The way Aria moved. The way the feral reacted to her.
Kiera didn’t interrupt. When I finished, she was quiet for a long time.
“You’re sure?” she asked finally.
“No,” I said. “But I felt it. You know what that feels like.”
She did. She’d been my Beta since we were 12. She knew the weight of a mate bond.
“And you’re going to tell her?”
“I have to. If she doesn’t learn control, she’ll hurt someone. Or she’ll turn feral herself.”
Kiera’s jaw tightened. “And if Dad finds out?”
“Then we have a problem.”
My father, Marcus Blackthorne, was Alpha of North Ridge. He believed in the Blood Accord without question. He’d enforced it twice.
The Accord was clear. Unclaimed wolves that couldn’t control themselves were a risk. A risk to the packs, to the secrecy, to the peace with the humans.
The punishment was exile. At best.
At worst, it was a bullet and a shallow grave.
I didn’t believe in it.
But believing didn’t matter when the Council showed up.
“I’ll go with you,” Kiera said. “She’ll trust you more if I’m there. And if she runs, I’m faster.”
I nodded. “Dawn. She’ll be at the Millers’.”
The Millers’ house was quiet at 6 AM. Too quiet.
Aria was awake when I knocked. She opened the door in 8 seconds, wearing jeans and a hoodie, eyes sharp even though she hadn’t slept.
She smelled like fear and steel and something else I couldn’t name.
Something that made my teeth ache.
“Aria,” I said. “We need to talk.”
She stepped back, letting me in. Kiera followed, staying by the door.
Mrs. Miller was in the kitchen. She didn’t look up. Good.
“I’m not calling the cops,” Aria said. “Whatever this is, I don’t want them involved.”
“Good,” I said. “Because they wouldn’t understand.”
I sat her down at the kitchen table. Kiera stood behind me, silent backup.
“Aria,” I said, “what happened last night wasn’t normal. The thing in the woods—it was a feral. A werewolf that lost control.”
Her face didn’t change. But her pulse jumped.
“I don’t know what a werewolf is,” she said.
“You do,” I said quietly. “You are one.”
She didn’t laugh. She didn’t deny it. She just looked at me like I’d confirmed something she’d been avoiding for years.
“That’s why I’m strong,” she said. “Why I heal fast. Why I hear things.”
“Yes.”
“And why I almost killed Mr. Calloway when I was twelve.”
I nodded. “When the wolf comes out, it’s stronger than you. Angrier. If you don’t learn to control it, it’ll take over.”
She swallowed. “And then I become that thing in the woods.”
“Feral, yeah.”
Kiera stepped forward. “It’s not a death sentence. I was feral for three days when I was 14. Ryan pulled me back.”
Aria looked between us. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because last night, something happened,” I said. “When I touched you, I felt it. The bond.”
Her brow furrowed. “What bond?”
“Mate bond. It only forms between two wolves. It means—” I stopped.
It meant she was mine.
It meant if I didn’t protect her, I’d go feral too.
“It means you’re not alone,” I finished. “And it means you’re in danger.”
She leaned back, arms crossed. “From what? You?”
“From my father. From the Council. From the law.”
Kiera spoke this time. “There’s an old law called the Blood Accord. It says unclaimed wolves who can’t control themselves have to be removed. For the safety of the packs.”
“Removed how?”
“Exile,” Kiera said. “Or worse.”
Aria’s face went blank. The same blank I’d seen on kids before they got shipped out of foster homes.
“So that’s it,” she said. “I’m a monster, and now you’re going to hand me over.”
“No,” I said. Too fast.
Kiera shot me a look.
“No,” I said again, slower. “I’m not handing you over. But you have to learn control. Now. Before the Council finds out.”
She stood up. “And if I can’t?”
“Then I’ll hide you,” I said. “I’ll break every law I swore to uphold. But you have to try.”
She stared at me. Really stared.
“You don’t even know me,” she said.
“I know enough,” I said. “I know you didn’t kill that feral last night. You had the chance. You chose not to.”
“That doesn’t make me good.”
“No,” I said. “But it makes you mine.”
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Her eyes widened.
“Don’t say that,” she whispered.
“Why not? It’s true.”
“Because I don’t want to be anyone’s,” she said. “Not yours. Not the Council’s. Not anyone’s.”
She was right to be angry.
But she was also right to be scared.
“The Council meets in three days,” Kiera said. “If they feel the bond, they’ll come for you. We have three days to teach you how to block it, how to shift, how to control the wolf.”
Aria shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You can,” I said. “You already did it once. When you chose not to kill the feral. That was your wolf. And you stopped it.”
She looked down at her hands.
“They shake,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Mine do too. Sometimes.”
For a second, the fear in her eyes eased. Just a little.
“Okay,” she said. “Teach me.”
We left 20 minutes later.
I didn’t tell her everything.
I didn’t tell her that if she failed, I’d have to choose between her and my father’s law.
I didn’t tell her that my father, Alpha Marcus Blackthorne, already suspected something. That Seraphina was watching.
I didn’t tell her that the bond meant I’d follow her into hell if she asked.
She didn’t need to know that yet.
What she needed to know was that she wasn’t broken.
She was a wolf.
And wolves hunt, protect, and survive.
We were halfway to the training grounds when my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One text:
She’s the one. The Accord breaks with her blood. Kill her before the moon rises.
I deleted it.
The Council didn’t know yet.
My father didn’t know yet.
And no one knew the truth about her blood.
But someone did.
- Writer
