She Eyed My Spot, My Alpha Let Her

Chapter 9: Drakah’s Warning

Leia’s POV

I could not breathe in that room.

The walls felt too close, the silence too loud, and the weight in my chest too heavy to bear. I felt like I was intruding in other people’s spaces, like I didn’t belong in this pack.

Every thought circled back to the same place, the same faces, the same humiliation that refused to loosen its grip on me.

Before I could change my mind, I slipped out through the back of the Alpha house and made my way toward the tree line and stripped.

The moment my feet touched the cool earth beneath the forest canopy, I let go.

“Tania,” I whispered.

My silver-white wolf surged forward eagerly, as if she had been waiting for this moment. The shift came quickly, almost desperately, bones rearranging and muscles stretching as I surrendered control to her.

Relief washed over me the instant my paws hit the ground.

Run. That was all she wanted. No thoughts, no pain, and certainly no humiliation. Just the freedom of movement and the wind rushing past us.

We ran. Through the trees, across familiar paths, over roots and rocks that our body knew without needing to think. The forest blurred around us, the night air sharp and cool against our fur.

For a while, everything quieted. The pain dulled. The memories faded into the background. There was only the rhythm of our steps and the steady beat of our heart.

But no matter how far we ran, something kept pulling us forward. Upward. Toward the mountain.

I did not question it. Tania did not hesitate. We climbed.

The terrain grew steeper, the air thinner, but neither of us slowed. This place was etched into our soul, tied to memories that refused to be forgotten.

Memories of laughter. Of promises. Of two children who believed in fate without hesitation.

By the time we reached the clearing, the moon hung high above, casting a soft glow over the stone pillar that stood at the center.

I slowed, my steps faltering. And then I felt it. A presence that was familiar. Too familiar.

Tania stilled, her ears flicking forward as another wolf emerged from the shadows. Shiny black, deep sea blue eyes. Dark, with power radiating from him.

Recognizable even without needing to look twice. Though at twelve we were too young to shift, as the powerful Alpha he is, Pete had already shifted, and I could never forget him or his scent. This was Tamer. My heart lurched.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid for months.

Why was he here? Why tonight, of all nights? Had he followed me to torture me more? Wasn’t he satisfied enough?

Tamer took a step forward, cautious, as if unsure how we would react. Tania did not retreat, but she did not approach either. She stood her ground, watching him carefully.

The tension between them was not hostility. It was something else. Something deeper. Something that mirrored exactly what I felt inside. Minutes passed with us just standing, staring. We couldn’t communicate in wolf form.

Slowly, I shifted back. The cool night air brushed against my skin as I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of the vulnerability of standing before him like this.

A moment later, Pete shifted as well. For a few seconds, we simply stood there, nude, facing each other under the moonlight, neither of us speaking.

This place had once held so much warmth in our presence. Now it felt unfamiliar. Almost fragile.

“You came here,” I said softly, breaking the silence.

“So did you,” he replied. His voice was calm, but there was something beneath it. Something strained.

I looked away briefly, my gaze settling on the stone pillar. “I needed to clear my head,” I said, still facing the pillar.

“So did I.”

Another silence followed.

It was not comfortable, but it was not entirely unbearable either. There was something about being here that made everything feel closer to the surface. Too close.

I turned back to him, studying his face. There was something in his eyes that I had not seen in a long time. It made my chest tighten.

“Why?” I asked quietly.

The word held more than just a question. It carried everything I had been holding back. Why are you doing this to me? Why are we like this? Why can’t we just be what we are meant to be?

His expression shifted slightly, but he did not answer immediately.

“I don’t understand,” I continued, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it. “We are mates. I feel it every day. The need to be with my mate, to feel the warmth of his love, but… I know you feel it too. So why does it feel like we are worlds apart?”

He inhaled slowly, as if searching for the right words. “I…” He paused, then looked away. “Things are complicated right now.”

Complicated? The word felt like a blade.

“When will they be uncomplicated?” I asked, unable to hide the hurt in my voice. “It has been months, Pete. Months of being pushed aside, ignored, humiliated, overworked like a slave, and left broken. How long is ‘complicated’ supposed to last?”

His jaw tightened.

“You think I don’t see what’s happening?” I continued. “You think I don’t feel any pain?” I sobbed, for the first time before him.

“I never said that,” he replied.

“Then explain it to me,” I pressed. “Because I am tired of trying to understand something that makes no sense.”

He went quiet again. I watched him, waiting, hoping.

But the explanation never came. Instead, he simply stood there, caught between something he refused to say and something he could not deny.

And that was when it finally settled in. He knew.

He knew why things were like this, and he was choosing not to tell me. Probably because he wanted things that way.

Something inside me cracked.

“I see,” I said softly, though there was no real understanding in my words.

He took a step toward me. “Leia…”

I shook my head, stepping back. “Don’t.”

The closeness felt dangerous now.

“If you cannot even be honest with me, then what are we even doing here?” I asked, my voice quieter now, but heavier.

He had no answer. Of course, he didn’t.

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and turned away before he could see how much that silence hurt me.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” I murmured.

And before I could stop myself, I shifted again and ran. This time, it was not to clear my mind. It was to escape.

The forest rushed past me once more, but the relief from before was gone. Every step felt heavier, driven by something I could not outrun.

I did not slow down until I reached the familiar path leading to Drakah’s home.

By the time I shifted back, my chest was rising and falling rapidly, my emotions too tangled to make sense of.

Her door opened before I could knock. “Come in, child,” she said gently.

I stepped inside without a word. The warmth of the room wrapped around me, but it did nothing to settle the storm within. Drakah studied me for a moment, her gaze knowing, seeing far more than I could hide.

“Were you running away from something?” she asked.

I nodded.

“You saw him,” she added.

My breath caught slightly. Of course, she knew.

“I don’t understand anything anymore,” I admitted, my voice breaking despite my effort to hold it together. “We were right there. It felt like… like we could just reach out and fix everything. But we didn’t. He wouldn’t even tell me why.”

Drakah’s expression softened, but there was a seriousness in her eyes. “Sit,” she said.

I obeyed, lowering myself onto the chair across from her.

She took a slow breath before speaking again. “You are standing at a dangerous place, child,” she said quietly.

I frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You are beginning to anchor your heart on something uncertain,” she replied.

Her words settled heavily in my chest.

“But he is my mate,” I said, though the certainty in my voice wavered. “How is that uncertain?”

“The bond may be certain,” she said, “but his actions are not.”

I went silent. She was right.

“You cannot build your peace on what someone might do,” she continued gently. “You must first see what they are doing.”

Her words stung because they were true.

“He looked at me like…” I hesitated. “Like he still wanted me.”

Drakah did not look surprised.

“That may be true,” she said. “But wanting is not the same as choosing.”

My chest tightened again.

“So what am I supposed to do?” I asked.

She reached out and placed her hand over mine.

“Guard your heart,” she said softly. “Do not let hope blind you to reality. If you do, the fall will be far more painful than anything you have experienced so far.”

I lowered my gaze, her words sinking deep.

For the first time, I realized that perhaps the greatest danger was not Sharon. It was the hope I still held onto.

And I did not know how to let it go.