The alphas runt

Snow fell softly through the towering pine trees surrounding the Silver Fang Pack territory, coating the forest in silver and white beneath the glow of the full moon. The world was beautiful at night. Quiet. Untouched. Lyra Vale preferred it this way. The darkness hid her. The icy wind bit at her cheeks as she pulled her thin gray cloak tighter around herself and hurried along the narrow forest path. Her boots crunched against frozen earth while distant wolf howls echoed through the mountains. Most wolves loved the sound. To Lyra, it was a reminder. You do not belong. Her breath fogged in front of her as she carried a heavy basket against her chest. Herbs. Medicine roots. Dried leaves the healers demanded she collect before sunrise. Work nobody else wanted to do. Which meant it was always given to her. A runt’s purpose. Useful enough to exploit. Worthless enough to ignore. Branches scraped against her arms as she moved deeper into the woods, pale strands of white hair slipping free from beneath her hood. Under the moonlight, her hair almost glowed. Her grandmother once told her the Moon Goddess kissed her forehead when she was born. The pack said the Goddess cursed her instead. Lyra lowered herself beside a cluster of frostleaf plants and carefully picked them one by one, placing them gently into the basket. “Still doing servant work?” Her body stiffened. Three she-wolves stepped onto the path behind her, their laughter already filling the cold air. Lyra recognized them immediately. Selene Voss stood at the center like a queen among followers, dressed in a fitted black coat lined with fur. Beautiful. Tall. Perfect. Everything Lyra wasn’t. The other wolves smiled cruelly beside her. Selene crossed her arms. “I heard Elder Magnus asked you to clean the lower kitchens next.” Lyra kept her gaze lowered. “The healers needed frostleaf.” “Oh?” Selene tilted her head mockingly. “You can speak.” The girls laughed. Lyra swallowed quietly and returned to picking herbs. Ignoring them was safer. Usually. Selene stepped closer until her shadow fell over Lyra completely. “You know,” she said softly, “the pack would function perfectly fine without runts.” Lyra’s fingers tightened around the plant stem. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” “Oh, I don’t feel that way.” Selene smiled. “I know it.” One of the girls snorted. “Honestly, I still don’t understand why the Moon Goddess allows runts to survive.” Another added, “Probably as punishment.” Heat crawled into Lyra’s chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. Reacting only made things worse. It always made things worse. Selene crouched in front of her suddenly, sharp amber eyes studying Lyra’s face. It happened often. People stared at her strangely. Even those who hated her couldn’t stop looking. Lyra’s features were delicate in an unnatural way for a werewolf. Pale skin. Crystal-blue eyes. Snow-white hair. Softness where wolves usually carried strength. Beautiful. Fragile. Wrong. Selene’s expression darkened slightly. “You really are pretty,” she murmured bitterly. “Such a waste.” Lyra looked away immediately. Selene hated when others noticed her. Especially males. Even though no unmated wolf would ever publicly claim interest in a runt. Selene rose smoothly to her feet. “Come on. We’re leaving.” Before turning away, she leaned close enough for Lyra to hear her whisper. “You should stay invisible, runt. It’s the only thing keeping you alive.” Then they disappeared into the forest. Silence returned slowly. Lyra released a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her chest hurt. Not because their words were new. Because part of her believed them. She finished gathering herbs in silence before lifting the basket again and beginning the long walk home. The Silver Fang estate appeared through the trees nearly an hour later. Massive black stone walls rose against the snowy mountains, glowing warmly from hundreds of golden windows. The estate looked more like a fortress than a home. Because it was one. The moment Lyra entered through the side gates, pack members brushed past her without acknowledgment. Warriors returning from patrol. Omegas carrying supplies. Younger wolves laughing loudly among themselves. Nobody looked twice at her. She slipped quietly through the crowded halls toward the healer wing. The smell of herbs and smoke filled the room as old healer Miriam glanced up from a wooden table. “You took long enough.” “Sorry,” Lyra said softly, placing the basket down. Miriam inspected the frostleaf. “At least you picked the right ones this time.” Lyra nodded. No thank you. No warmth. But Miriam had never been cruel either, which almost counted as kindness in Silver Fang. “You’re dismissed,” the healer muttered. Lyra turned toward the door immediately. The less time around others, the better. But before she could leave, loud footsteps echoed through the hallway outside. Then voices. Deep male voices. Every omega in the healer wing instantly straightened. Warriors. Lyra stepped aside automatically as several large men entered the corridor. Their scents filled the air—pine, smoke, snow, wolf. Danger. Pack members immediately lowered their heads respectfully. Lyra did the same. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor. Until the atmosphere changed. The shift was instant. Heavy. Dominant. Every instinct inside her body reacted violently. The hallway fell silent. Even the warriors stopped talking. A powerful scent flooded the air—cedarwood, winter, and something darkly masculine that wrapped around her senses like smoke. Alpha. Her heart skipped painfully. Slow, heavy footsteps approached. Closer. Closer. Lyra’s wolf stirred uneasily beneath her skin. She had never been this close to Alpha Kael before. Everyone knew him. Everyone feared him. The strongest alpha the Silver Fang Pack had seen in generations. She saw his boots first. Black leather dusted with snow. Then massive hands scarred from years of fighting. Her breath caught when she accidentally looked up. He was enormous. Far larger than the other wolves surrounding him. Dark hair fell slightly over sharp features that looked carved from stone itself. His shoulders nearly blocked the hallway, black clothing stretched across a heavily muscled body, and silver eyes scanned the corridor with terrifying calm. Beautiful. Terrifyingly beautiful. Lyra instantly lowered her gaze again. Her pulse hammered wildly. Kael barely spared the hallway a glance as he walked past with Beta Damien beside him discussing patrol routes. “…southern border needs more guards,” Damien was saying. Kael nodded once. Then stopped walking. The silence sharpened. Lyra froze. Slowly, she felt his attention turn toward her. Every omega instinct screamed submission. Her hands trembled slightly beneath her cloak. Kael frowned faintly. “What is that scent?” The hallway went still. Damien blinked beside him before sniffing the air lightly. His eyes landed on Lyra. Recognition flashed. “Oh,” Damien said flatly. “That’s just the runt.” Just the runt. Kael’s silver gaze remained fixed on her. For one horrifying moment, Lyra thought he might actually speak to her. Instead, he simply stared. A strange unreadable expression crossed his face briefly. Then he turned away. “Continue,” he said coldly. The warriors moved again. Conversation resumed. And just like that, the moment ended. Lyra released a breath quietly after they disappeared down the corridor. Her chest still felt tight. “Don’t stand there daydreaming,” Miriam snapped. Lyra startled. “Sorry.” But as she hurried from the healer wing, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way the alpha looked at her. Not disgusted. Not mocking. Just… curious. And somehow that unsettled her more than hatred ever could. — High above the estate, Kael entered his office and shut the door behind him. Damien continued speaking about patrol schedules, but Kael barely heard him. That scent lingered in his head. Soft. Cold. Wildflowers after snowfall. His wolf paced restlessly beneath his skin. Kael frowned. “Who is she?” Damien looked confused for a moment before realization crossed his face. “The runt?” Kael leaned back slowly against the desk. “She’s older than I thought.” “She turned eighteen recently.” Kael’s expression darkened slightly. Eighteen. A mature wolf. Strange. He had barely noticed her existence before today. Damien snorted lightly. “Trust me, she’s not worth your attention.” Kael lifted an eyebrow. “That so?” “She’s weak. Tiny. Can barely shift properly.” Damien shrugged. “Most pack members forget she exists.” Kael’s jaw tightened slightly for reasons he didn’t understand. “She has a name.” Damien looked mildly surprised. “…Lyra Vale.” The moment the name settled in the room, Kael’s wolf reacted violently. Mine. Kael stiffened instantly. His breathing stopped. Damien noticed immediately. “Alpha?” Kael turned slowly toward the window overlooking the snowy forest below. Impossible. No. After six years of waiting— No. Not her. Not the runt omega everyone despised. His wolf snarled possessively inside him. Mine. Kael closed his eyes briefly. And for the first time in years… The mating bond stirred awake