Fae-ted To The Alpha

9- Pack Life

Malrik

The scent of pine and fresh falling snowfall drifted through the open windows of my office, but I was too preoccupied to appreciate it. Christmas was days away, and I should have been looking forward to it. Instead, frustration simmered beneath my skin.

Liz invited Jordan again, without consulting me.

As if Thanksgiving hadn’t been bad enough.

That dinner had been an unnecessary ordeal. My pack never put much weight on Thanksgiving, but Liz had insisted. “It’s a big deal for Jordan’s family,” she had said. “Or... it was.” She gave me those big, pleading puppy eyes, playing the sympathy card about how his family had ‘died’. So, I went along with it, even though something about that kid rubbed me the wrong way.

But Christmas? Christmas was sacred in my home. It was the one tradition I never let slip, no matter how busy things got at SpaceX or within the pack. And Liz, knowing that, had still invited Jordan without a word to me and only just told me he would be there.

Raven had only released a low growl while she spoke- no- let her demands be heard by me, minutes ago, and he left, his patience running low with her. As alpha, I learned a bit about how to control my wolf. A bit. Honestly, I cannot control him, but I can avoid a messy situation with him, most times. I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. “That girl will be the death of us,” was the last thing he said before he left.

Gosh, I had invited Daisy over. How would I explain this ruckus that I knew would be on full display to her? I wanted Daisy to like me, not the opposite. I expected Liz to be in her usual state of rotten behavior because I had brought someone over for dinner, and she would be against that. My daughter thinks I'm old and that I already had my chance at love and marriage/fated mate and lost it. Since things didn’t work out for me, that’s it for my romantic life. My life on the girlfriend or marriage/mate spectrum is over.

So, my daughter with a boyfriend would be more than too much for a peaceful Christmas Eve meal.

“Liz again?” Gabe’s voice cut through my thoughts. My Beta stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame with a knowing smirk.

“Who else?” I muttered with a tired expression, one hand coming up to my temple area as I blew out a breath of mental exhaustion, then folded my arms across my chest as I walked back to my chair from the floor-to-ceiling windows, where I was, and took a seat.

Gabe stepped in, shutting the door behind him. “What’d she do now?”

I tossed a letter opener onto my desk, which I unconsciously picked up and leaned back in my chair. “Invited Jordan to Christmas Eve dinner, without asking me.”

My Beta and I had been through too many of Liz’s tantrums to know better than to suggest she uninvite him. He let out a low whistle. “Bold move.”

“She doesn’t get it,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Or she doesn’t care.”

“She’s young,” he offered in politeness. “And stubborn. Can’t imagine where she gets that from.”

I shot him a glare. “If I wanted jokes, I’d ask Osman.”

At the mention of our Gamma, Gabe snorted. “Speaking of Osman, he’s waiting in the common room. Wants to go over some pack logistics before the holidays, nothing major.”

And I pushed back from my desk and stood, folding the sleeves of my shirt as I did so. “Might as well get this over with.”

The common room was buzzing with activity. A few Omegas were decorating, their laughter filling the space as they strung up lights and ornaments. The scent of cinnamon and baked goods lingered in the kitchen, where a few members had started preparing food in advance. Christmas in the packhouse was always lively, filled with warmth and tradition.

Osman sat at one of the large wooden tables, going over a stack of papers. He looked up as we approached, his dark eyes sharp. “Finally. Thought you forgot about me.”

“Never,” I said dryly, taking a seat across from him, not bothering to head back into my office. “What’s this about?”

Perching one of his low eyebrows, Osman slid a paper toward me, clasping his hands together on the table afterward. “Pack expenses. Christmas Eve dinner cost is significantly higher than usual. We also have security concerns. There’s been an increase in rogue activity near the borders.”

Gabe’s expression darkened from the seat he had taken next to the Gamma. “Rogues?”

In our world, rogues are werewolves- yes humans- who live outside the structured hierarchy of a pack, but they are not mindless beasts. They are individuals who, for various reasons, no longer belong to a pack- some by choice, others by force. Without the stability of a pack bond, they rely on their own instincts and survival skills, often developing a more independent, self-sufficient nature.

Some rogues are just wolves who want freedom from pack politics, traditions, or responsibilities. They might be loners who prefer a quiet life among humans or drifters searching for a new purpose. Others were exiled for breaking laws- whether in the human world or in pack world- getting caught up in criminal activities, or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A few may even have been abandoned as children, growing up without ever knowing what it meant to be part of a pack and lacking structure in controlling their emotions.

We werewolves experience emotions on a much deeper, more primal level due to our dual nature. While humans can feel anger, love, fear, and desire, us werewolves feel these emotions amplified, often tied to our more animalistic instincts. With our heightened emotions, werewolves don’t just get irritated, we feel territorial aggression.

We don’t just love, we feel soul-deep bonds which is even deeper when our fated mate is chosen for us by the Moon Goddess. Sadness isn’t just melancholy, it’s deep, primal grief. Excitement isn’t mild anticipation; it’s thrill coursing through our blood.

Werewolves don’t suppress emotions the way humans do because we are incapable of such, with our animal side that is prone to move on instinct. Meaning bodies and instincts react before our human minds can process.

Anger leads to tense muscles, bared teeth, and a growl before we even think to speak. Fear triggers an immediate fight-or-flight response, making us aggressive rather than hesitant. Attraction or desire isn’t subtle but it’s a magnetic pull which most humans cannot comprehend. Werewolves don’t just feel emotions, we live them intensely, raw, and unfiltered.

And this makes a rogue wolf very dangerous.

A rogue, without the structure of a pack to ground them, is like a human with unchecked emotions- raw, unstable, and often teetering on the edge of control. Without an alpha’s presence to regulate their instincts, their emotions run wild, shifting unpredictably between rage, loneliness, and desperation. Imagine someone stripped of family, community, and purpose, forced to fend for themselves while their very nature screams for connection. The anger festers without reason, the fear turns to paranoia, and even joy becomes fleeting, drowned out by the constant hunger for belonging. A rogue isn’t just a lone wolf, they're a soul untethered, left to battle their own instincts with no alpha to pull them back.

Imagine what a pack of them with erratic or reckless behavior would be like. Ruthless.

However, not all rogues are dangerous. Some are just trying to make a life for themselves outside the pack system, blending in with the norms of regular human society, working normal jobs, and keeping their nature hidden.

And while some rogue groups function like criminal gangs, others form small, tight-knit communities with their own rules and order. The biggest challenge for a rogue is trust. Once separated from a pack, rejoining one is nearly impossible, as most alphas are reluctant to take in someone they cannot fully control.

“Nothing major yet,” Osman clarified, his eyes squinting as he spoke. “But it’s worth keeping an eye on. I already have patrols rotating every few hours.”

I nodded. “Good. Keep it that way. I don’t want any surprises during the holidays.”