THE FATED ALPHA'S CAPTIVE

CHAPTER TWO

WHITE WALKERS PACK

In the dim chamber of the White Walkers Packhouse, the soft light of the crescent moon shone through the tall windows, casting a faint silver glow. Outside, the wind gusted, slipping through the cracks in the old stone walls, but inside, the air was calm—almost unnervingly quiet.

Ronan stood at the head of the table,his tall imposing figure bathed in the faint glow of the moon. Having a view of his shadow from the wall,he looked just like a huge beast but staring at his face directly,it contrasted what the shadow depicted him to be.

Seated before him were his most trusted lieutenants,their faces tense as they awaited his verdict.

“We have lost two scouts along the northern perimeters” One of the lieutenants said,his voice trembling as he spoke. “The rogues are getting more aggressive,more bold. They are testing our defense, Alpha”

Ronan remained unmoved,his cold eyes scanning the faces of the men before him. His hand traced the edge of the dagger in his hand, the blade gleaming in the firelight. The tension in the room was palpable, each man waiting for the alpha to give them direction, to show them the severity of the situation.

But when Ronan finally spoke, his voice was as cold as the wind outside. "And yet you come to me, concerned about a few rogues?"

The lieutenant stiffened, his eyes widening slightly, but he did not respond. He knew better than to question Ronan’s judgment, but the growing threat could not be ignored.

"They’re rogues” Ronan continued, his tone dismissive. "Unorganized. Desperate. They’re no match for this pack." His eyes flickered with an icy edge. "They are nothing."

The lieutenants exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared to speak against him. Ronan had always been ruthless in his assessments, and this time was no different. His belief in the strength of his pack was absolute.

"If they press forward again, we'll crush them." He tossed the dagger onto the table with a casual flick of his wrist, the blade spinning before embedding itself in the wood. "Let them try."

There was a silence as Ronan's words settled over the room. His lieutenants shifted in their seats, uncertain. They had expected their Alpha to be more concerned, to call for stronger defenses, to strategize. But Ronan's confidence in their ability to handle the situation left no room for debate.

"We'll reinforce the patrols, Alpha," another lieutenant offered, clearly attempting to appease his Alpha's mood.

Ronan gave a single, sharp nod. "Do what you need to. But do not waste my time with trivial matters again."

The message was clear. The meeting was over.

Just then, a soft knock echoed through the heavy wooden door, followed by the faint creak of it opening slightly. A figure stepped into the room, casting a long shadow on the floor. The priest.

Ronan didn’t glance at the priest, his cold eyes still locked on his lieutenants. "We're done here," he said, his voice low but unmistakable in its finality.

The lieutenants wasted no time in rising from their chairs, offering short bows before filing out of the room, their steps hurried, though none of them dared to look back. The door closed behind them with a soft thud, leaving only Ronan and the priest in the room.

For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the distant howl of the wind outside. Ronan stood still, his broad shoulders tense, though his face betrayed no emotion.

The priest stepped forward slowly, his old, weathered face etched with lines of age and wisdom. In his hand, he held a small herbal bag, the contents of which rustled quietly as he moved. He bowed deeply before Ronan, his walking stick tapping lightly on the floor as he leaned on it.

"Alpha" the priest greeted softly, his voice a low murmur that seemed to blend with the shadows of the room.

“Any news yet?” Ronan asked,his eyes flickering with the faintest hint of impatience.

“Not at all" the priest said, his tone cautious as he picked each word carefully. He could sense the anger in the Alpha's mood so he continued. "It's been more than seventeen years. Seventeen years since the girl disappeared. You’ve been searching for so long… but perhaps it is time to consider—"

"She's not dead." Ronan’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. His fists clenched at his sides, the veins in his forearms standing out as he fought to control the surge of anger rising within him.

The priest hesitated, watching as Ronan’s eyes briefly flickered gold, the sign of the beast lurking beneath his human skin.

"Alpha… It's been so long. We’ve searched everywhere, followed every lead. There’s been nothing. No sign of her."

Ronan turned, his eyes locking onto the priest’s with an intensity that made the old man flinch slightly. "She's alive." His voice was low, but the conviction in it was undeniable. "I can feel it. She’s still out there."

The priest bowed his head slightly, not daring to challenge the Alpha’s instincts. He had known Ronan for years, had seen the fire that burned inside him, the unyielding determination that had kept him searching all this time. But even the strongest of wolves could be blinded by their own desires.

"Very well, Alpha” the priest said softly. "But the pack cannot continue to search in the dark forever. We need more than just hope."

Ronan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He turned away from the priest, his eyes once again falling on the map spread out before him. His fingers brushed over the circled locations, the last places he had searched. The final places where she could be.

"I’ll find her" Ronan murmured to himself, though his voice was so quiet that the priest almost didn’t hear it.

But the priest did hear, and with a heavy sigh, he turned and left the room, leaving Ronan alone with his thoughts, the fire, and the endless shadows.