Chapter 2: The weight of an Alpha
396 Words
Ronan Blackwood had been born for war.
From the moment he shifted for the first time at thirteen, his father had beaten weakness out of him, forging him into the weapon the Shadowfang Pack needed. The old Alpha had been brutal, his lessons taught with claws and blood, and when he died, Ronan had taken the title not with grief, but with steel in his spine and fire in his veins.
He had learned the hard way—an Alpha did not mourn. An Alpha did not falter. An Alpha *protected*.
And yet, as he stood in the war room of the Shadowfang stronghold, surrounded by the scent of damp stone and burning torches, something inside him stirred. Something restless.
His father’s old desk sat against the far wall, its surface scarred from years of sharp claws and heavier decisions. Maps lay sprawled across it, marked with red ink—rogue sightings, Bloodmoon border skirmishes, signs of something bigger stirring in the shadows.
Darius entered, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. “The body’s been taken care of. No scent markers, no pack affiliation.”
“Then they’re hiding something.” Ronan crossed his arms, muscles tense. “Rogues don’t just wander into Shadowfang territory without a death wish.”
Darius hesitated, then stepped closer, voice lowering. “You don’t think this is… *her*, do you?”
Ronan stiffened.
His wolf bristled at the mention, a deep, possessive growl rumbling in his chest before he forced it down.
“I don’t believe in fairy tales,” he said coldly.
But the prophecy of the *Marked One* had haunted the pack for years—whispers of a wolf born of two warring bloodlines, fated to bring either ruin or salvation. Some called it destiny. Ronan called it *bullshit*.
He didn’t put faith in fate.
He put faith in strength.
And yet, something gnawed at him, something primal. A feeling he couldn’t shake.
Darius watched him closely. “We should keep an eye on this, Ronan. If this is the beginning of something bigger—”
“Then we’ll end it before it begins,” Ronan said, voice like iron. “Whatever is coming, I’ll crush it under my boot before it threatens this pack.”
Because that was his duty. His only purpose.
And if fate thought otherwise?
It would have to go through him first.
- Writer
