The Alpha’s Rogue Mate

Chapter 4

Fallon

By the time the sun began to set, I had discovered two things.

First, the forest was considerably less charming when you were

hungry.

Second, my wolf had apparently decided that my rejection was a

personal insult to her intelligence.

I still think we should have bitten him.

“You’ve mentioned that.”

I could mention it again.

“I know. That’s what worries me.”

I ducked beneath a low branch and continued towards the rocky

ridge overlooking the valley.

I’d spent most of the afternoon searching for somewhere to

sleep. The hollow beneath the fallen tree had been tolerable, but I wanted

something better than a damp patch of dirt and the possibility of waking up

with a family of beetles in my hair.

My standards were clearly becoming unreasonable.

I wanted a roof.

A warm meal.

Perhaps a blanket that didn’t smell like wet leaves.

Apparently, I was a woman of extravagant tastes.

You forgot a handsome man who doesn’t behave like a complete

arse.

“I’d settle for a sandwich.”

Aim high, darling.

I smiled despite myself.

The ridge offered a view of the valley below. Beyond the trees,

I could see the distant lights of the Alpha’s settlement.

Warm windows.

Smoke rising from chimneys.

Wolves gathering for dinner.

I looked away.

It was ridiculous to envy them. I’d spent years surviving

without a pack, and I wasn’t about to start longing for one simply because they

had roofs and cooked food.

Still, the sight left an ache beneath my ribs.

A pack meant safety.

It meant people who noticed when you were missing.

People who knew your favourite meal, your worst habits, and

which jokes could make you laugh even when everything else was falling apart.

I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had known those things

about me.

You’re doing that thing again, my wolf said quietly.

“What thing?”

Pretending you don’t want something because you’re afraid it

won’t want you back.

I stopped walking.

For once, I had no clever response.

My wolf didn’t push.

She never did when it mattered.

Instead, she settled quietly inside me, her presence warm and

steady.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I’m fine.”

Of course you are.

There was no sarcasm in her voice.

That somehow made it worse.

I took a deep breath and continued towards the ridge.

I had survived worse than loneliness.

I would survive this, too.

⸻

The first sign of trouble was the smell.

Smoke.

Not the comforting scent of a cooking fire drifting from a

distant cottage.

This was thick and bitter, carrying the sharp tang of burning

wood.

I froze.

My wolf lifted her head.

That’s not good.

“No. It isn’t.”

I moved towards the ridge’s edge and peered down into the

valley.

A thin column of smoke rose from a small wooden storehouse near

the outer fields.

Several figures ran between the buildings.

Someone shouted.

Then came the unmistakable sound of a frightened wolf.

My stomach tightened.

The pack.

I should have kept walking.

It wasn’t my territory.

It wasn’t my responsibility.

And after everything that had happened, I had no desire to rush

towards danger for a group of wolves who might decide I was a threat the moment

they saw me.

We should go.

I stared at the smoke.

“I know.”

I’m serious. This isn’t our problem.

“I know.”

Neither of us moved.

Then another shout carried across the valley.

“Get the children inside!”

That was it.

I was running before my wolf could finish her next complaint.

Oh, wonderful. Heroism. My favourite way to get injured.

“Keep up!”

I AM the one keeping you alive!

I raced down the ridge, slipping on loose stones and catching

myself against tree trunks. The smoke grew thicker as I approached the

settlement.

By the time I reached the outer fence, I could see what had

happened.

A small storage building was burning, flames licking up its

wooden walls. Several pack members were carrying buckets of water, while others

hurried to move supplies away from the neighbouring buildings.

But it wasn’t the fire that made my blood run cold.

It was the figures disappearing into the trees beyond the

fields.

Three of them.

Perhaps four.

They were carrying sacks.

Food sacks.

One of the pack warriors spotted me and immediately raised his

voice.

“You! Stop!”

I ignored him.

The fire was spreading towards a stack of wooden crates.

A young woman stood nearby, struggling to drag an injured older

man away from the smoke.

I sprinted towards them.

“Move!”

The woman looked up in alarm.

I grabbed the man’s other arm, and together we hauled him

towards the open ground.

He coughed violently.

“His leg,” the woman gasped. “He can’t put weight on it.”

“Then we’ll carry him.”

I shifted my grip and helped her support his weight.

My lungs burned.

Smoke scratched at my throat.

But we made it beyond the nearest buildings before the old man

collapsed onto the grass.

The woman dropped beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Get him some water.”

She hurried away.

I bent over, hands braced on my knees, trying to draw air into

my lungs.

Well, my wolf panted, there goes our quiet evening.

I coughed.

“Shut up.”

I’m just saying. We could have been eating berries right now.

“I’m aware.”

Possibly mushrooms.

“Those were poisonous!”

And yet, here we are, inhaling a building.

I would have laughed if my throat hadn’t felt like it was lined

with sandpaper.

A shadow fell across me.

I straightened.

The Alpha stood a few feet away.

His expression was hard, but beneath it I saw something else.

Surprise.

“You came back.”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Don’t sound so delighted. I was passing through.”

His gaze travelled over my soot-streaked face, then towards the

burning building.

“You helped get them out.”

“Congratulations. Your observational skills are improving.”

His mouth twitched.

Only slightly.

Then he looked towards the forest.

“Did you see who took the supplies?”

I followed his gaze.

The figures had vanished.

“I saw several people carrying sacks away from the fields.”

“Did you recognise them?”

“No.”

He studied me.

“Were they rogues?”

I looked at him sharply.

“Does it matter?”

His jaw tightened.

“People have been stealing food from our outer stores for weeks.

We need to know who is responsible.”

“Then perhaps you should ask why they’re stealing it.”

The words escaped before I could stop them.

The Alpha’s expression changed.

“What?”

I folded my arms.

“You heard me.”

“You think I don’t know that people steal because they’re

hungry?”

“I think knowing something and caring enough to do something

about it are two very different things.”

His eyes flashed.

“You don’t know anything about how I run my pack.”

“No,” I replied. “And you don’t know anything about the people

you’re blaming.”

For a moment, we simply stared at each other.

The mate bond stirred between us, pulling at the space

separating our bodies.

I hated that it could still make me aware of him.

His warmth.

His scent.

The faint tension in his shoulders as he fought to keep his

temper under control.

Then a voice interrupted us.

“Alpha!”

A warrior hurried towards us, his face grim.

“We found tracks beyond the eastern fields. Several wolves,

heading north. They took grain, dried meat, and two sacks of seed.”

The Alpha’s expression hardened.

“Did you follow them?”

“Yes, but the trail splits near the river.”

“Then send—”

He stopped.

His gaze flickered towards me.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Go on. Give an order. It’s what you’re good at.”

His warrior looked as though he desperately wished to be

somewhere else.

The Alpha exhaled slowly.

“Take two trackers and follow the trail only as far as the

northern boundary. Do not cross into unfamiliar territory after dark. If you

lose the tracks, come back.”

The warrior nodded and hurried away.

I watched him go.

At least the Alpha hadn’t sent his people charging blindly into

the forest.

It was a small thing.

But small things mattered.

Sometimes they mattered more than people realised.

The Alpha turned back to me.

“You believe these attacks are connected to something larger.”

“I believe hungry people don’t always have the luxury of

behaving politely.”

“And if they’re dangerous?”

“Then protect your people.”

His gaze sharpened.

“But don’t confuse protecting them with punishing everyone who

looks like the enemy.”

Something in his expression shifted again.

For a moment, I thought he might argue.

Instead, he looked towards the burning storehouse.

“I have a responsibility to keep my pack safe.”

“I know.”

“And if these wolves continue attacking us, someone could get

hurt.”

“I know that, too.”

I looked him directly in the eyes.

“But if you want to understand what’s happening, you need to

look beyond the stolen food.”

The words hung between us.

Then I stepped away.

“I should go.”

He didn’t try to stop me.

But his voice followed me as I reached the edge of the

settlement.

“Why did you come back?”

I paused.

It was a simple question.

And perhaps that was why it was so difficult to answer.

I could have told him I wanted to help.

That I couldn’t stand by while people were hurt.

That I knew what it was like to be frightened and alone.

All of those things were true.

But there was another truth I wasn’t ready to share with him.

So I glanced over my shoulder and gave him the only answer I

could manage.

“Because I’m a better person than you think I am.”

Then I walked away.

⸻

I found a sheltered patch of forest several hours later.

My clothes smelled of smoke, my throat hurt, and I was fairly

certain I’d bruised my hip during the descent from the ridge.

But I had food.

Someone from the pack had pressed a small parcel into my hands

before I left. Bread, dried meat, and an apple.

I hadn’t asked for it.

I hadn’t thanked them properly, either.

I’d simply taken it and walked away before anyone could make me

feel as though I owed them something.

Now I sat beneath a tree and unwrapped the parcel.

My wolf practically purred.

Bread.

“Yes.”

Real bread.

“Yes.”

I could cry.

“Please don’t. You’ll make me emotional, and then we’ll both be

unbearable.”

I took a bite.

Warmth spread through me, and for a moment, the world seemed a

little less cruel.

I ate slowly, saving half for tomorrow.

Then I noticed something caught beneath the fold of the cloth.

A small piece of paper.

I frowned and pulled it free.

There were only a few words written on it.

You shouldn’t have to be alone to be free.

I stared at the message.

No name.

No explanation.

Just those words.

My throat tightened.

I looked back towards the distant pack settlement, though the

trees concealed every light.

Had the young woman written it?

The injured man?

One of the warriors?

Or—

No.

I folded the paper and tucked it into my pocket.

It didn’t matter who had written it.

The words didn’t change anything.

I was still a rogue.

Still alone.

Still carrying the invisible ache of a bond with a man who had

decided I wasn’t good enough.

But as I leaned back against the tree, I couldn’t stop thinking

about the message.

You shouldn’t have to be alone to be free.

For years, I’d believed those things were inseparable.

That if I wanted to remain my own person, I had to survive

without anyone.

That needing people meant giving them the power to hurt me.

Perhaps I’d been wrong.

The thought frightened me more than I cared to admit.

Don’t overthink it, my wolf murmured. Eat your bread.

I laughed softly.

“Finally. Sensible advice.”

I’m full of it.

“Bread?”

Wisdom.

“Debatable.”

I finished my meal and settled down for the night.

Tomorrow, I would move farther from the pack.

I would find somewhere safe.

I would make a life that belonged entirely to me.

And if the Alpha ever wanted to become part of that life, he

would have to prove he understood something I’d spent years learning the hard

way.

Freedom wasn’t the absence of love.

It was the ability to choose it.

And I would never again let anyone convince me that I had to

surrender myself to be worthy of belonging.