Chapter 8: The Alpha’s Invitation
1373 Words
( POV: Freya)
I stared at the sealed letter in my hand like it might bite me.
The envelope bore the unmistakable wax crest of the Moonstone Pack—Kade’s symbol, a snarling silver wolf ringed by thorns.
Fitting.
I’d returned less than forty-eight hours ago, and already the man who once cast me out had something to say. A “formal invitation,” delivered by a trembling pack runner who didn’t dare meet my eyes.
The air inside my cabin turned heavy. I set the envelope down on the table and circled it once like prey eyeing a trap.
He expected me to read it.
He expected me to care.
And yet, my fingers itched to tear it open.
Raine was watching me from the shadows, arms crossed, her silver-streaked braid swinging against her shoulder. She’d been with me when the message arrived. Hadn’t spoken a word.
“Say it,” I murmured without looking at her.
“I don’t like this,” she said.
“Of course you don’t.”
“You said we came here to disrupt his order, not answer his calls.”
“I know what I said.”
I finally opened the letter.
The paper was thick, the handwriting as sharp and cold as the man himself.
To Freya of the Blood Rogues,
You’ve made your presence known. I acknowledge it.
I request a private parley, no guards, no weapons. Whispering Glen. Three nights from now. Dusk.
Come if you wish to talk. Or to finish what we started.
—Kade, Alpha of Moonstone Pack
I read it twice.
Raine snatched the paper from my hand and read it for herself. “It’s a trap.”
“Maybe.”
“Whispering Glen?” she scoffed. “That place is sacred. No one fights there.”
“That’s the point,” I said, sitting down.
Raine paced. “He could be setting you up to lower your guard.”
“Then I’ll meet him with mine raised.”
“He rejected you, Freya. He let you rot out there. You nearly died.”
“I didn’t.”
“But you could’ve.”
“And now?” I met her gaze. “Now I’m something he didn’t plan for.”
Raine exhaled hard. “You care more than you should.”
I hated that she wasn’t wrong.
I still felt him. That cursed bond—the echo of a connection I thought time would sever. Even with my newfound power, even with the rogue king’s blood running through my veins now, the bond still hummed under my skin like a whisper I couldn’t silence.
But it wasn’t love that tethered me to Kade anymore.
It was something colder.
Unfinished.
“I’ll go,” I said quietly.
Raine flinched. “Freya—”
“He wants to talk? Fine. Let him talk. But he’s going to hear my voice this time.”
Later that night, I climbed the ridge behind our rogue encampment.
The moon was high and heavy, spilling silver across the forest floor. I stopped at the top of the hill and stared out at the valley below—Moonstone land. Still so pristine. Untouched. Orderly.
It used to scare me, how perfect it all was.
Now, it just felt fake.
Behind me, a low rustle.
I didn’t turn. I knew who it was.
“You read it,” Raine said.
I nodded.
“I thought you might tear it up.”
“So did I.”
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
I turned to face her. “Don’t I?”
Raine’s eyes softened. “You already did. You came back stronger than any of us expected. You could end him in silence, Freya. Dismantle everything without ever letting him see your face again.”
“But I want him to see it,” I said. “I want him to know what he lost. I want him to understand that the weak little omega he cast out now holds the power to bring down his entire empire.”
“Revenge?” she asked.
“Closure,” I replied, though my voice trembled on the word.
Was it still revenge if part of me just wanted to hear him say he was wrong?
I hated myself for that.
The next morning, I stood before the rogue king himself.
Daemon throne was carved from twisted bone and petrified wood, surrounded by thorny roots. His golden eyes narrowed as I approached.
“You wish to meet the Alpha,” he said without preamble.
“I do.”
He studied me. “Do you seek to beg him, Freya? Or break him?”
“Neither,” I said. “Not yet.”
Daemon leaned forward. “You carry my blood now. My mark. You represent something greater than Moonstone ever offered you. Remember that.”
“I won’t forget.”
He nodded. “Then go. But if he touches a hair on your head…”
“I’ll rip his hand off first,” I finished.
Daemon grinned.
The next few days were quiet, but tension curled through every moment.
I trained longer than usual. Sparred until my knuckles bled. Meditated in the sacred grove until my wolf quieted. Each night, I dreamt of the past—of Kade’s voice telling me I wasn’t enough, of walking barefoot into exile with nothing but shame and shattered pride.
Now I would walk back into his world, not as a beggar, but as a storm.
On the night of the meeting, I dressed simply—black leathers, no markings. I carried no blades. My strength didn’t lie in steel anymore.
Whispering Glen was half a day’s walk from the border.
I left before dawn and arrived just as the sun began to bleed into the horizon.
The Glen was as I remembered—soft grass underfoot, trees that bent protectively inward, a silver spring trickling through the moss.
And in the center, alone and waiting, stood Kade.
No guards. No armor. Just him.
My heart tried to betray me, fluttering in my chest.
I shoved the feeling down.
He turned when I approached.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then—his voice, low and measured.
“You came.”
I met his eyes. “You summoned.”
He gave a nod, slow and heavy. “You’re different.”
“And you’re the same.”
A flicker of something in his gaze—pain, maybe. Regret.
“I deserved that,” he said.
“You deserve a lot more.”
The wind stirred between us.
“You flipped my son into a fountain,” he said, almost wryly.
I raised a brow. “He insulted me.”
“I imagine he did.”
We stared at each other.
The silence felt loaded, like the moment before lightning strikes.
Finally, Kade stepped forward. Not close. Just enough that I could smell him—pine and ash.
“I was wrong,” he said. “About you.”
I felt the words like a punch to the ribs.
“I know,” I replied.
He nodded. “You were always strong. I just didn’t want to see it.”
“You didn’t want a Luna who challenged you.”
“I didn’t think I deserved one.”
That surprised me.
For a man who ruled with iron will, his voice sounded almost... human.
Hurt.
“I thought I was protecting the pack,” he continued. “From a bond that didn’t make sense. From a Luna who wasn’t born for the throne.”
“And now?” I asked.
“I see I was protecting myself.”
The Glen went still.
“I didn’t come here for apologies,” I said.
“I know.”
“I came to tell you this—if you try to stop me, I will break everything you’ve built.”
His jaw flexed. “And if I let you finish what you came for?”
“Then maybe there’s still something worth saving.”
Our eyes locked.
The bond flared faintly between us. Not like before—this wasn’t love. Not yet.
This was the collision of two storms that once called each other home.
- Writer
