My Alpha Rejected Me… Then Begged Me to Save His Pack

Chapter 6 – Confession and Control

“Still staring, Lysa?” Maelin grins around the cigarette, teeth flashing in the dark. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or your mother. Same thing, really.”

I step closer, staying just outside arm’s reach. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, relax.” She flicks ash onto the dead grass. “We’re on the fun side of nobody’s land. Your big bad alpha can’t piss a scent line here.”

“He has patrols in the area,” I say. “If they catch your smell—”

“They’ll what?” She snorts. “Chase me? Please. I’m faster when I’m motivated.”

She hops off the hood and closes the distance in three long strides, eyes raking over me. “You look good,” she says. “Singe marks suit you. Very tragic hero.”

“Maelin.” My patience is thin. “You said there were leaks. Talk.”

She sobers a fraction, cigarette dangling between two fingers. “News travels, even to us poor, savage Varrow. Three ambushes in three weeks. Fire on your back doorstep. You think we don’t notice when Duskvale starts flailing?”

My jaw tightens. “We’re not flailing.”

“Sure.” She smirks. “You’re… aggressively improvising. Point is, someone’s feeding intel to people who don’t like you much. And before you ask, no, it’s not us. Not officially.”

“Not officially,” I echo. “That sounds reassuring.”

She takes a drag, smoke curling from her nose. “There are… freelancers. Wolves who like money more than flags. Some of them have roots in Varrow, sure. Some in your pack. Some nowhere at all. There’s a market now, Lysa. Information, routes, schedules. You burn real pretty from far away.”

My stomach twists. “Why tell me?”

“Because markets shift.” She shrugs. “And because whoever’s skimming off your alpha is messing with our borders too. Someone hit a Varrow storage vault last month using a patrol pattern only our inner circle should know. Sound familiar?”

It does. Too much.

“So the same leak is hitting both sides,” I say. “Someone with access in both worlds.”

“Bingo.” She flicks the cigarette aside and grinds it under her heel. “And before you even think it, no, it’s not me. I’m many things, but I don’t sell home soil. Not anymore.”

I search her face. There’s a tiredness there I don’t remember. Finer lines at the corners of her eyes. War does that.

“What do you want from me?” I ask.

She laughs softly. “Straight to the point. I always liked that about you.” Her gaze sharpens. “I want a look at your maps. Your rotations. Your paperwork. The real stuff, not the cleaned-up version your pretty alpha sends to his allies.”

“No.” The word is out before I can think. “Absolutely not.”

“Relax, I don’t need copies. Just patterns.” She steps closer again, lowering her voice. “Look, Lysa. Someone inside Duskvale is making good money turning your secrets into corpses. And the same hand is tugging at Varrow’s leash. You can pretend it’s all separate, but from where I’m standing, it’s one big, ugly knot.”

My pulse thuds in my throat. “You want me to spy on my own pack to help my old one.”

“I want you to spy on whoever’s playing both of them,” she corrects. “I don’t give a damn who ends up owning which patch of forest, long as the ones selling kids and packs to the highest bidder end up dead.”

Kids.

The word hits like a hook. I think of the little pup in the barn, smoke-streaked and shaking.

“Why me?” I ask, softer. “Why not go to my mother? To Rian?”

Maelin snorts. “Kaida sees what she wants. Rian sees what she tells him. You? You walked out. You know both songs and owe neither choir your voice. That makes you dangerous, Ly. To the right people.”

And to the wrong ones.

I scrub a hand over my face, fingers catching on the bandages. “If I do this, if I even consider it, I need something from you.”

Her brows climb. “You’re negotiating with the only friend you’ve got left?”

“Friendship doesn’t erase leverage.” I meet her gaze. “Names, Maelin. Routes. Proof that this isn’t just Varrow’s latest way to tug my leash.”

She studies me a moment, then sighs, digging into her jacket. “You got sharp, didn’t you?”

She hands me a folded scrap of paper, edges greasy from her fingers. Inside: a list of dates, locations, and shorthand codes I recognize from old Varrow ops.

“These are hits on our side,” she says. “Cross-check with your problems. You’ll find twins.” She taps the last line. “And this? That’s a meeting between one of your wolves and someone who isn’t supposed to exist outside of rumor.”

“Which wolf?” I ask, throat tight.

She smiles without humor. “Figure that out yourself, clever girl. I won’t be the one to light that fuse in your house.”

The anger that flares is mostly fear in a different coat. “You’re happy enough to toss the match at me.”

“Because you’re the only one who might not just burn.” She steps back, shadows swallowing her edges. “Midnight, same place, two nights from now. Bring me something that tastes like truth, and I’ll see what I can dig up from our side.”

“And if I don’t?” I ask.

“Then enjoy watching both your homes bleed out.” She lifts two fingers in a mock salute. “Good seeing you, Lysa. Tell your alpha I said hi. Or don’t. Your funeral.”

She melts into the trees like she was never there. Her scent lingers, tangled with smoke and old memories.

I stand alone in the dead car lot, clutching a piece of paper that feels hotter than the barn ever was.

If I bring this to Corin as is, I prove I’m not hiding anything.

If I hide it, I become exactly what they fear.

By the time I slip back into the alpha house, my decision is still a raw, shifting thing in my chest. But the note burns in my pocket like a brand.

When I open the bedroom door, Corin is there, sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

He looks up sharply. His eyes narrow as he takes in my clothes, my hair, the thin line of my mouth.

“Where were you?” he asks.

The words taste like smoke and war as they leave my tongue.

“Meeting a ghost,” I say. “And if we’re going to survive what’s coming, you’re not going to like what I have to tell you.”