Chapter 4: The Alpha’s Suspicion
1131 Words
Lyra’s stomach twisted the moment she stepped inside the Alpha’s hall.
The smell of pinewood and burning torches hit first. Then the weight of every pair of eyes.
Hunters might have been out there in the forest, but the Alpha’s gaze?
A predator she couldn’t run from.
Alaric sat at the far end, shoulders wide, back straight. Eyes cold. Sharp like broken glass.
“Lyra.”
She froze.
One word , heavier than any punishment she’d ever felt.
The hall went silent. Even the younger wolves in training paused mid step, sensing the storm behind her father’s voice.
“Yes, Father,” she said, voice tight.
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just studied her. Eyes flicked to her hands. Her posture. The faint tremble in her jaw. Lyra exposed. Naked.
“You were near the border,” he said finally. Low voice, Every syllable pressed against her chest.
Her stomach dropped.
“Father, I-”
“Do not lie to me,” he cut her off. Sharp. “I will know.”
She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, swallowed. Pulse racing.
He’ll know. He’ll know. He’ll smell Rowan on me.
She opened her eyes. “I didn’t-”
“Lyra.”
The warning in his voice made her flinch.
His eyes, impossible to read. Steel mirrors reflecting her guilt. She swallowed hard. Straightened her spine. “I- was checking the perimeter,” she said. “For threats. Hunters.”
Alaric’s gaze narrowed. Just a flicker of recognition? Suspicion? Gone before she could tell.
“You were alone?”
“Yes,” she said too quickly. Words stumbling. She tried to mask it with calm. Her wolf throbbed under her ribs, whispering frantic warnings. Lie. Don’t tell. Stop breathing.
Alaric leaned forward slightly. She felt it, not just his authority. Not just his scrutiny. Something deeper. Something that made the hairs on her arms rise.
“Lyra,” he said. Quieter now. Almost a growl. “Something is wrong.”
Her chest tightened. She forced a cough. “I don’t-”
“You do not know what you’ve done,” he said. Soft. Dangerous. Throat-drying dangerous.
Lyra’s hands twitched at her sides. She wanted to run. Bolt straight out of the hall, into the forest, never come back. But she couldn’t. Not yet.
Her father always knew. Always. He could smell lies, half-truths, hesitation. She learned that early. Tonight, he said nothing more. Just waiting. Watching.
Her wolf whimpered softly in her mind, impatient. Get out. Leave. Now.
“Father…” Her voice shook. She forced it steady. “It was nothing. Hunters were near the border. I checked. That’s all.”
Alaric’s hand flexed on the armrest of his chair. Fingers tight. Firelight flickered across his face. Jaw sharp. Dark shadowed eyes.
“Do not dismiss me,” he said. “Do not lie.”
Her stomach twisted. Her wolf thrashed inside her. Claws scratching invisible walls.
He knows. He can smell him. He knows.
Her chest tightened. Pulse betraying her. Heat in her cheeks. The bond screaming from inside.
“I-” she started, then stopped. Teeth clenched. Wolf growled.
She didn’t know what to say. The truth…worse than any punishment her father could give .
Rowan.
Out there. And she could feel him. Heartbeat. Pulse. Hesitation. Confusion. Anger.
She could feel him.
And she didn’t know how to explain it.
Her father’s eyes narrowed again. Not a question. Not an accusation. Something older. Something primal.
He stood abruptly. Floorboards groaned under his weight. Every movement made her jump.
“You are hiding something,” he said.
Lyra’s heart leapt. She opened her mouth, but no words came. She shook her head. No. Don’t. Don’t. Not yet.
“Lyra,” Alaric said. Low. Controlled. Every syllable a trap. “You do not lie to me. Not now. Not ever.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. She felt her wolf coiled, ready to fight, ready to leap.
But she couldn’t. Not yet.
“I…” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t-”
“You did,” he said. Flat. Certain. Damned certain.
Her stomach dropped. Eyes flicked to the floor. Couldn’t meet his gaze. Couldn’t tell him.
Her wolf roared.
Tell him! Tell him! Stop hiding it!
She shook her head violently. No. Not yet. Not now.
Alaric stepped closer. His shadow fell over her. The warmth of him didn’t reach. His presence pressed like a mountain.
“You feel it,” he said softly. “Don’t you?”
Lyra froze.
She wanted to scream. Wanted to deny it. Wanted to pretend it wasn’t real.
But it was real. Her wolf wasn’t lying.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her father’s eyes narrowed. Just a flicker. Enough to make her want to sink through the floor.
“You’ve been near him.”
Lyra flinched. Hands to her chest, trying to hide the bond, the pulse, the wolf screaming in her veins.
“I didn’t- I mean…” Words stumbled. Fell apart. Chest tightened again. Wolf clawed inside, screaming in panic and fear.
Alaric’s hand flexed. Jaw clenched. For a long moment, silence. Then he straightened. Stepped back.
“You will not go near the border again,” he said. Calm. Deadly. “Not tonight. Not ever. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father,” she said. Small. Fragile.
He studied her one last time. Ryes lingering too long. She feltl it. He could smell it. Something she couldn’t hide. Couldn’t lie about. Something that would make him furious if he fully understood.
He suspected.
Her wolf howled softly inside her. Frustrated. Impatient.
Run. Leave. Go. Now.
Lyra swallowed. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not yet.
Alaric finally sat back. Back as rigid as stone. “See that this doesn’t happen again,” he said.Controlled. Practiced. The threat behind it, subtle. Buried. Undeniable. Worse than any punishment.
Lyra nodded. Forced herself to move toward the exit. Legs heavy. Stiff. Uncooperative. Every step echoed in the hall like a drumbeat of doom.
She dared a glance back. His eyes followed. Always following. Always knowing.
The pull from the forest tugged again. Louder this time. Hot. Insistent. Alive.
Her chest ached. Her wolf growled.
He’s out there. And he’s waiting. And you? you’re stuck.
She pressed her hands to her chest. Tried to calm the pulse of her blood. The roar of her wolf. The impossible ache of the bond that should not exist.
And she knew, staring at the dark tree line beyond the pack’s territory:
Tonight, she would not be able to ignore him.
Not the pull.
Not the bond.
Not the hunter who should have been her enemy.
Something had changed.
Something ancient. Something violent.
Something irreversible.
Her wolf whimpered softly. And Lyra…didn’t answer.
She couldn’t.
- Writer
