Bound to my Alpha

Chapter Four

I woke before dawn to the sound of boots on the front porch.

For a second I forgot what day it was.

Then the ache in my chest came back all at once.

Outside, the world was still blue with early morning cold. Frost silvered the courtyard grass, and the sky above the Everly Woods was only just beginning to pale. I dressed quickly, braided my hair, and pulled on my thickest sweater before heading downstairs.

The Hale house already smelled like coffee and woodsmoke.

My father stood at the front door in his heavy coat, speaking quietly with someone outside. My mother was at the stove, though for once even she seemed too tense to make one of her usual sharp comments.

She glanced over as I came in. “Eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re eating anyway.”

I took the piece of toast she handed me mostly so she’d stop looking at me like that.

A knock sounded against the open doorframe, and then Blake stepped inside without waiting to be invited.

He was already dressed in the dark academy jacket issued to departing heirs. Seeing him in it made my stomach twist.

For a moment he was still just Blake—my brother, slightly messy hair, crooked grin, impossible to take fully seriously.

Then I looked again and saw the man he was becoming.

“Morning,” he said.

“You look ridiculous,” I told him.

He glanced down at his jacket. “You’re just jealous.”

“I’m definitely not jealous of the dramatic death march outfit.”

“It’s not a death march.”

Dad muttered, “That remains to be seen.”

Blake laughed, but there was strain under it.

He crossed the room and grabbed a piece of toast off my plate. I slapped his hand too late.

“Hey!”

“Future Beta privilege.”

“You’re not Beta yet.”

“Close enough.”

Despite everything, I smiled.

That was the dangerous thing about Blake. He could make almost anything feel normal for a few seconds.

Then Zayne appeared in the doorway behind him, and normal disappeared completely.

He wore the same dark jacket, zipped halfway over a black shirt. The academy emblem was stitched over his chest in silver thread—a crescent moon crossed by two claws. His dark hair was still damp from a shower, and the cold air had reddened the tops of his ears slightly.

Mom noticed me noticing and hid a smile behind her coffee mug.

I glared at her.

“Ready?” Zayne asked Blake.

“Yep.”

My father lifted one of the crates and carried it outside. “The transport truck will be here in ten minutes. Marcus wants both of you at the courtyard.”

At the mention of the Alpha, the mood in the room shifted again.

This wasn’t just two boys heading off to school.

This was official. Pack business. Tradition.

Silver Ridge didn’t send its future Alpha and Beta away casually.

By the time we stepped into the courtyard, most of the pack had already gathered.

Wolves stood in clusters beneath the cold morning light, their breath visible in pale clouds. Children were hushed by parents. Elders stood near the front. Patrol members lined the edges of the crowd with solemn faces.

At the center of it all was the transport truck.

Beyond it stood Alpha Marcus Blackwood and Luna Layla, both dressed in formal black. Marcus looked carved from stone, broad and immovable, his gaze fixed on his son. Layla’s face was calmer, but I could see the tension in the set of her shoulders.

Zayne went straight to them.

Blake moved beside my father near the front.

I took my place between my parents, folding my hands tightly so no one would see them shake.

After a minute, Alpha Marcus stepped forward.

The courtyard fell instantly silent.

“Today,” he said, his deep voice carrying easily through the frost-heavy air, “Silver Ridge sends two of its strongest young wolves to the Alpha–Beta Academy.”

He turned slightly, gesturing to Zayne and Blake.

“At eighteen, once an heir and his future Beta complete their schooling, tradition requires they leave their home pack to train among others born to leadership. There they are taught combat, strategy, law, diplomacy, survival, and discipline.”

His gaze hardened.

“They are stripped of comfort. Stripped of arrogance. Tested in every weakness until only strength, honor, and control remain.”

No one moved.

Even the younger children stood perfectly still.

Marcus continued, “The academy lasts two years. Return is granted only at Christmas, and only to those who prove themselves worthy of the privilege.”

That part hurt worse hearing it aloud.

Two years.

Maybe Christmas.

Maybe.

“These young men leave us today as heirs,” Marcus said. “They will return prepared to lead.”

He stepped back.

For a moment the silence held.

Then Layla moved first, embracing Zayne fiercely. Whatever soft words she whispered to him were lost to the courtyard, but when she pulled away, her hand lingered against his jaw for a brief second.

My father clasped Blake’s forearm in the old warrior way and pulled him into a hard one-armed hug. My mother kissed Blake’s cheek and told him to write home with enough force that even a few nearby wolves smiled.

Then it was my turn.

Blake came to me first, because of course he did.

He opened his arms, and I walked straight into them.

For one second I let myself hold on as tightly as I wanted.

He smelled like cold air, laundry soap, and home.

“Try not to start any fights while I’m gone,” he murmured into my hair.

I huffed a laugh that came out dangerously close to a sob. “No promises.”

He leaned back enough to look at me. “Keep training.”

“I always train.”

“Harder.”

“You’re unbelievably bossy for someone who hasn’t earned the title yet.”

“Future Beta privilege,” he said, and when I rolled my eyes, his smile softened. “I mean it, Lex. Don’t let anyone push you around while we’re gone.”

My throat tightened.

“I won’t.”

He tapped two fingers lightly against my forehead the way he always had when we were kids. “Good.”

Then he stepped aside.

And Zayne was there.

I had known he would be.

Still, my pulse stumbled the second his eyes met mine.

Up close, there was something almost unreal about him this morning. Not because he looked different exactly, but because the role waiting for him had finally become visible. It sat in the line of his shoulders, the quiet steadiness in his face, the way wolves made room without thinking when he moved.

“Lex,” he said.

Just my name. Nothing more.

It nearly undid me.

I folded my arms tighter across myself. “So this is it?”

“For now.”

“For now,” I repeated, because it sounded better than two years.

His mouth twitched faintly.

Then he opened one arm in silent invitation.

I stepped into the hug before I could think too hard about it.

The second his arms closed around me, the cold disappeared.

He held me carefully at first, like he was trying not to overstep some invisible line. Then his grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to make my breath catch.

He was warm.

Steady.

Safe.

I hated how much that mattered.

“You better keep Blake alive,” I muttered against his jacket.

A quiet laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’ll do my best.”

“You say that like he’s the problem.”

“He is the problem.”

I smiled despite myself, then pulled back a little.

He didn’t let go immediately.

His dark eyes searched my face with a strange intensity that made the noise of the courtyard blur at the edges.

“I’ll miss you, Lex,” he said quietly.

My heart thudded once. Hard.

Not because of the words themselves. Anyone could miss a friend.

But because of the way he said them.

Low. Certain. Like he didn’t want anyone else to hear.

I swallowed. “You better.”

Something flickered in his expression—amusement, maybe, or something heavier I didn’t dare name.

Then he released me and stepped back.

The truck engine growled to life.

All around us the pack shifted, the moment breaking apart as reality pressed in again. Blake climbed into the back first, tossing his duffel inside. Zayne followed after a brief clasp of forearms with Alpha Marcus.

He turned once before getting fully inside.

Our eyes met across the distance of a few feet that suddenly felt much larger.

Then the rear door slammed shut.

The truck began to roll toward the main road out of Silver Ridge.

I stood there and watched it go.

Past the training pits.

Past the edge of the courtyard.

Past the first line of pines near the Everly Woods.

Dust rose behind the tires, pale in the morning light. For one impossible second I could still see the shape of them through the back window.

Then the road curved.

And they were gone.

The pack lingered only a few minutes after that. Quiet goodbyes gave way to routine. Patrols resumed. Children were led home. Wolves returned to training, to breakfast, to whatever their lives demanded next.

But nothing felt normal.

The compound was too open, too still.

Like someone had carved out a piece of it and left the rest standing.

I didn’t realize I was staring at the empty road until my mother touched my elbow.

“Come inside,” she said gently.

I nodded, but it took me another second to move.

That night, long after dinner, I found myself back on my window seat.

Across the courtyard, the Blackwood manor was dark.

Zayne’s room was only a blank square of glass reflecting moonlight.

No lamp.

No movement.

No silhouette pacing while he packed.

I drew my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them, staring at the darkness where his room used to feel present.

For the first time since I was eight years old, Zayne Blackwood wasn’t just across the courtyard.

He was gone.