The Alpha’s Hated Mate

Chapter 2

Ten years later.

The rogue’s screams echoed through the forest.

Kael Varyn stood over the wounded wolf, his chest rising and falling after the brief but brutal fight. Blood stained his knuckles, and a thin trail of it ran down the side of his face, disappearing beneath the collar of his black shirt.

He barely noticed.

He was too busy staring at the man lying at his feet.

“Please.”

The rogue coughed, clutching his injured side.

“Please, Alpha. I didn’t do anything!”

Kael tilted his head.

It was a familiar plea.

He had heard it countless times over the past decade. Some rogues begged for their lives. Others cursed him. A few tried to bargain, offering information or stolen goods in exchange for their freedom.

None of it mattered.

He had learned a long time ago that words were easy.

Actions were what mattered.

“You were found inside Blackthorn territory,” Kael replied coldly. “Armed, carrying stolen supplies, and travelling with three others who attacked my patrol.”

“I wasn’t part of that!”

“No?”

Kael crouched in front of him.

“Then explain why you ran when my warriors approached.”

The rogue’s gaze darted towards the trees.

That was all the answer Kael needed.

He caught the man’s chin and forced him to look up.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

The rogue obeyed, trembling.

For a moment, Kael saw something in his expression that made an old memory stir.

Terror.

The same wide-eyed fear he remembered from the clearing ten years ago.

The same helplessness he had felt when eleven boys had screamed for help that never came.

His fingers tightened.

A low growl rose from his chest.

“Alpha!”

The sharp voice came from behind him.

Kael didn’t look around.

“Speak.”

“Beta Garrick has secured the other three rogues. Two are injured, but they’ll survive. The patrol found no other intruders.”

“Search the surrounding woodland. I want every trail checked before sunset.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

The warrior hesitated.

“And this one?”

Kael looked down at the rogue.

The man had begun to cry.

Something inside Kael hardened.

“Take him to the holding cells. I’ll question him when I return to the packhouse.”

Two warriors approached and hauled the prisoner to his feet.

The rogue twisted around desperately.

“Alpha, please! I have a family!”

Kael went still.

For one terrible second, the forest disappeared.

He was twelve again.

Darius was laughing beside the creek.

Eleven boys were running between the trees.

And then—

Blood.

Screaming.

Silence.

Kael’s jaw clenched.

“Take him away.”

The warriors dragged the rogue towards the waiting patrol.

His pleas faded into the distance.

Kael remained where he was, staring at the patch of ground where the man had fallen.

He could still hear the screams.

Ten years.

Ten years since the worst day of his life, and sometimes it felt as though he had never left that clearing.

He looked down at his hands.

Scarred knuckles. Old marks across his wrists. Pale lines disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

His fingers curled into fists.

He had survived.

That was what everyone told him.

He had survived, grown stronger, and become the Alpha his father had always hoped he would be.

But sometimes, when he woke in the darkness with the memory of eleven dead boys burning behind his eyes, he wondered whether surviving had truly been a blessing.

Because the boy who had entered those woods had believed that being strong meant protecting the people he loved.

The man who had emerged from them believed something very different.

Strength meant ensuring no one could ever make him helpless again.

And if that required becoming a monster himself?

So be it.

⸻

By the time Kael returned to Blackthorn territory, the sun had climbed high above the mountains.

The packhouse stood at the heart of the settlement, its dark stone walls and broad wooden balconies overlooking the surrounding homes. Smoke curled from the chimneys, and the scent of freshly baked bread drifted from the kitchens.

Children raced across the courtyard while their parents called after them.

Warriors trained in the open grounds.

A pair of elderly wolves sat beneath an oak tree, arguing over a game of cards.

It was an ordinary day.

A peaceful day.

The kind of day Kael had spent the past ten years trying to preserve.

He dismounted at the entrance, handing his horse to a waiting stable hand.

“Alpha!”

A young warrior hurried towards him.

Kael recognised him as one of the newer recruits, perhaps eighteen years old. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and still possessed the kind of unscarred face that reminded Kael how young he’d been when his own life had changed.

“Your father has been asking for you,” the warrior said.

Kael’s expression remained impassive.

“How long?”

“Since breakfast, Alpha.”

“Then he’s had plenty of time to practise being patient.”

The young warrior’s eyes widened.

Kael walked past him.

He had no intention of explaining himself.

People often mistook his silence for anger. Others assumed his coldness meant he thought himself superior to everyone around him.

He rarely corrected them.

It was easier to let people fear him than to give them an opportunity to discover what lay beneath the surface.

And fear, unlike affection, never required him to trust anyone.

He crossed the entrance hall and climbed the stairs to the Alpha’s office.

Before he reached the door, it swung open.

His father stood in the doorway.

Roderic Varyn had aged over the past decade. Silver threaded through his dark hair, and the lines around his eyes had deepened. But he remained a formidable presence, with broad shoulders and the commanding bearing of a man who had led Blackthorn for more than thirty years.

His gaze travelled over Kael’s bloodstained shirt.

“You’re injured.”

“It’s nothing.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

Kael stepped past him into the office.

“Then perhaps you should ask better ones.”

Roderic closed the door.

For several seconds, neither man spoke.

Their relationship had changed over the years.

Once, Kael had followed his father everywhere, eager to learn from him and desperate to earn his approval.

Now, their conversations were often brief, clipped, and edged with frustration.

Roderic wanted his son to understand that being Alpha required more than strength.

Kael believed his father had spent too much of his life believing that words and diplomacy could protect people from the worst things in the world.

Neither man had managed to convince the other.

“What happened on patrol?” Roderic asked.

“We apprehended four rogues inside our territory. They’re being held for questioning.”

“Did they attack anyone?”

“Two warriors sustained minor injuries.”

“Then I trust you’ll have the healer examine them.”

Kael gave him a flat look.

“Of course.”

Roderic sighed.

“Must every conversation between us become a battle?”

“Must every conversation become a lecture?”

His father stared at him.

For a moment, Kael thought Roderic might raise his voice.

Instead, the older Alpha moved towards his desk.

“I received a report from the eastern border this morning. There have been several rogue sightings over the past fortnight. More than usual.”

Kael’s attention sharpened.

“How many?”

“At least six separate groups.”

“Have they crossed our territory?”

“Not that we know of.”

“Then increase the patrols.”

“I’ve already ordered additional watches.”

“Double them.”

Roderic looked up.

“Kael—”

“Double them.”

His father’s jaw tightened.

“Your warriors need rest. They cannot patrol every stretch of our borders around the clock.”

“Then recruit more.”

“And what happens when the neighbouring packs begin questioning why Blackthorn is preparing for a war that hasn’t started?”

Kael leaned forward, bracing his hands against the desk.

“Do you want to wait until someone dies?”

Silence filled the room.

The question hung between them, carrying the weight of everything neither man wanted to discuss.

Roderic’s expression changed.

“No,” he answered quietly. “I don’t.”

Kael straightened.

“Then we’re agreed.”

He turned towards the door.

“Kael.”

He stopped, but didn’t look back.

His father’s voice softened.

“Come to dinner tonight. Your mother has been asking for you.”

Something uncomfortable tightened in Kael’s chest.

His mother had always been the one person who could reach him when his nightmares became unbearable. Even now, despite his growing distance from the rest of the pack, he found it difficult to deny her anything.

“I have work.”

“You always have work.”

“Then you should understand.”

Roderic was silent for a moment.

“I understand more than you think.”

Kael’s hand tightened around the door handle.

He wanted to believe that.

He wanted to believe his father understood what it was like to wake every morning carrying the memory of eleven dead children.

But Roderic hadn’t been the one held down in that clearing.

He hadn’t heard Darius calling his name.

He hadn’t felt the blade against his skin.

And he hadn’t spent ten years wondering why he had been the one who survived.

“No,” Kael said quietly. “I don’t think you do.”

He left before his father could answer.

⸻

That evening, Kael sat at the family dining table, staring at a plate of food he had barely touched.

His mother watched him from across the table.

Elara Varyn had always possessed a gentleness that seemed almost impossible in a world where strength was measured by the ability to fight. Her dark hair was streaked with silver now, and time had etched fine lines around her eyes.

But when she looked at her son, she still saw the twelve-year-old boy who had once fallen asleep against her shoulder during thunderstorms.

She had never stopped looking for him.

“You’re thinner,” she said.

Kael glanced up.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Mother.”

“Kael.”

He exhaled through his nose.

“Must we do this every time I come home?”

“Must you make it so difficult for me to worry about you?”

He looked away.

Across the table, Roderic hid a faint smile behind his glass.

Kael noticed.

“Something amusing, Father?”

“Not at all.”

“Good.”

Elara shook her head, but there was affection in her expression.

For a few minutes, they managed something resembling an ordinary family dinner.

His mother asked about the pack.

His father mentioned an upcoming meeting with neighbouring Alphas.

Kael listened, contributed when necessary, and even managed to smile when Elara reminded him of an embarrassing incident from his childhood.

Then she made the mistake of mentioning the annual remembrance ceremony.

“It’s hard to believe it’s been ten years,” she said softly.

The fork in Kael’s hand stopped moving.

Elara immediately regretted the words.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.”

His voice was flat.

“Kael,” his father began.

“I said it’s fine.”

He placed the fork beside his plate.

The sound of metal striking porcelain seemed unnaturally loud.

Elara reached across the table.

He pulled his hand away before she could touch it.

Pain flickered across her face.

Kael saw it.

He hated himself for causing it.

But he hated even more the sudden, suffocating feeling that came whenever someone tried to comfort him.

Because comfort reminded him of what he had lost.

And because a small, broken part of him still believed that if he allowed himself to feel safe, the world would find another way to take everything from him.

“I have work to finish,” he said.

“Your dinner—”

“I’m not hungry.”

He stood.

His father rose halfway from his chair.

“Kael, sit down.”

The command came from the Alpha.

For one moment, the room became painfully still.

Kael looked at his father.

Then, slowly, he sat again.

Not because he wanted to.

Because he was the future Alpha, and he knew better than to undermine his father’s authority in front of his mother.

Roderic held his gaze.

“You cannot spend the rest of your life running from that day.”

Kael’s expression turned cold.

“Running?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then choose your words more carefully.”

“Son, I know what happened to you—”

“No.”

Kael’s voice cracked through the room.

His mother flinched.

He forced himself to continue more quietly.

“You know what the healers told you. You know what you saw when you arrived. You know what I looked like when they carried me home.”

He swallowed.

“But you weren’t there.”

Roderic’s face had gone pale.

Kael looked down at his hands.

“I was.”

No one spoke.

He pushed back his chair.

This time, his father didn’t stop him.

Kael left the dining room and climbed the stairs to his private quarters.

He closed the door behind him.

Then he stood in the darkness, breathing through the tightness in his chest.

He had not intended to hurt his mother.

He had not intended to wound his father.

But every year, as the anniversary approached, the memories grew sharper.

He could hear the boys laughing.

He could see the clearing.

And no matter how many rogues he hunted, no matter how much stronger he became, he could never change the ending.

Eleven boys had died.

And he had lived.

⸻

The following morning, Kael visited the training grounds before sunrise.

He had been doing so for years.

Training was the one place where his thoughts quietened. Every movement required concentration. Every strike demanded precision. There was no room for memories when his body was pushed to its limits.

He worked through the forms with a practice blade, repeating each movement until his muscles burned.

Again.

Again.

Again.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the ground if you keep that up.”

Kael turned.

Beta Garrick stood at the edge of the training ring, his arms folded across his broad chest.

At thirty-eight, Garrick was one of the most experienced warriors in Blackthorn and had served Roderic since before Kael was born. He was one of the few people who spoke to the future Alpha without flinching.

Kael lowered the blade.

“Do you need something?”

“Yes. I need you to stop pretending you’re made of stone.”

“Then you’ll be waiting a long time.”

Garrick sighed.

“The prisoners have been questioned.”

“And?”

“They claim they were travelling through the territory to reach the northern mountains.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed.

“Without permission?”

“They say they didn’t know they’d crossed into Blackthorn.”

“Convenient.”

“Perhaps.”

Kael wiped the blade with a cloth.

“Did they have weapons?”

“Two carried knives. One had a short sword. The fourth had no visible weapons.”

“Did they attack our warriors?”

“One of them did.”

“Then they’re fortunate to be alive.”

Garrick studied him.

“You know, not every rogue is responsible for what happened to you.”

The words landed like a slap.

Kael went completely still.

Garrick’s expression changed as he realised what he’d said.

“Kael—”

“Finish that sentence.”

The Beta hesitated.

“I only meant that there are wolves living outside pack territory who have never harmed anyone.”

Kael stepped towards him.

“And how many of them were in that clearing ten years ago?”

Garrick didn’t answer.

“How many of them held my friends down? How many of them laughed while eleven children begged for their lives?”

“Not all of them were there.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—”

“Because you want to believe there is good in everyone?”

Kael’s voice dropped.

“That’s a comforting thought, Garrick. But comfort doesn’t bring back the dead.”

Garrick held his gaze.

“No. It doesn’t.”

For a moment, neither man moved.

Then Garrick spoke again.

“But neither does hatred.”

Kael’s wolf surged beneath his skin.

A warning growl escaped him.

Garrick didn’t retreat, though his shoulders stiffened.

Kael looked away first.

“Get out of my training ring.”

Garrick’s expression tightened.

“With respect, Alpha, it isn’t your ring. It’s the pack’s.”

Kael turned back slowly.

The Beta held his gaze for another moment before inclining his head.

“I’ll send you the prisoners’ statements when they’re written.”

He walked away.

Kael stood alone in the training ground, gripping the practice blade until his knuckles whitened.

He knew what Garrick had been trying to say.

He knew his Beta wasn’t his enemy.

But knowing something and believing it were two entirely different things.

And Kael had spent ten years feeding the part of himself that believed mercy was weakness.

He wasn’t about to starve it now.

⸻

That afternoon, Kael rode out to the western border.

He told himself he wanted to inspect the patrol routes.

In truth, he needed to be away from the packhouse.

Away from his parents’ worried expressions.

Away from Garrick’s uncomfortable truths.

Away from the memories that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

The forest was quiet beneath the afternoon sun.

Kael dismounted beside a narrow stream and walked towards the tree line.

He had avoided this particular stretch of woodland for years.

It wasn’t the same clearing.

It wasn’t even the same forest.

But sometimes the scent of damp earth and pine brought everything back so vividly that he could almost feel the ground beneath his knees and hear the rogues laughing.

He stopped beside a tree.

A deep scar ran down the side of his left hand, pale against his skin.

He traced it absently with his thumb.

Ten years.

He had spent ten years becoming stronger.

Ten years learning to fight.

Ten years making certain that no rogue who threatened his pack would ever be allowed to hurt another child.

And still, he could not save the eleven boys who mattered most.

His wolf stirred restlessly.

We should hunt, it urged.

Kael looked towards the distant mountains.

“There’s nothing to hunt.”

There are always rogues.

His jaw tightened.

“Not today.”

The wolf fell silent, but the restlessness remained.

Kael mounted his horse and turned towards Blackthorn.

He had no idea that, beyond the mountains, a young woman was moving through the wilderness with a torn pack on her shoulder and fear at her heels.

He had no idea that she had spent years learning to disappear before dangerous men noticed her.

He had no idea that she carried secrets that would one day place her directly in his path.

And he certainly had no idea that the Moon Goddess had already begun weaving their lives together.

For ten years, Kael Varyn had believed his future was simple.

Protect his pack.

Hunt the rogues.

Never become helpless again.

He had built his life around those three promises.

Soon, a woman who had never harmed him would challenge every one of them.

And when Kael finally discovered who she was to him, he would learn that the most dangerous battles were not always fought with claws and teeth.

Sometimes, the hardest thing in the world was facing the truth about yourself.

Especially when the woman standing before you was the one person you had sworn never to love.