Chapter 4 - The Alpha’s Burden
1703 Words
Anthony Clark pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the pack house and stepped inside.
The massive residence of the White Hunters Pack stood on a hill above the forest, its stone walls glowing faintly in the silver light of the rising moon. The house had been built generations ago when the pack was smaller, but over the years it had grown into something closer to a fortress than a family home.
Tall ceilings. Endless corridors. Thick doors that could withstand claws.
Most wolves in the pack preferred simpler homes scattered through the territory. Only the Alpha and his family lived in the main house.
The building was quiet now.
Anthony loosened the collar of his shirt as he walked through the entrance hall. His footsteps echoed across the marble floor.
Portraits of former alphas lined the walls.
He knew each of them by name.
Some had ruled with wisdom. Others with fear.
And in the center of the hall hung the portrait of his father.
Alpha Richard Clark.
Anthony slowed his steps as he passed it.
The painter had captured his father perfectly — the proud posture, the cold gray eyes, the expression of a wolf who never doubted his own strength.
For a moment Anthony simply stood there.
Then he sighed quietly.
“I hope I am doing this right,” he murmured under his breath.
No one answered, of course.
He continued down the hallway.
No matter how exhausting his day had been, there was one thing he always did when he returned home.
He visited his mother.
Ingrid Clark had always been the heart of the White Hunters Pack.
Even after his father's death, the wolves still listened when she spoke.
Anthony reached the familiar door of her sitting room and knocked lightly.
“Come in,” her calm voice answered immediately.
He stepped inside.
The room was warm and softly lit by a standing lamp beside the sofa. Bookshelves covered one entire wall, filled with volumes collected over decades.
Ingrid Clark sat on the velvet sofa near the fireplace.
She was reading.
Her posture remained perfectly straight, the posture of a Luna who had spent her life beside an Alpha. Even now, years after her husband’s death, she carried herself like a queen.
Her dark hair, once completely black, now held streaks of silver.
An elegant pair of glasses with an ivory frame rested on her nose.
Without looking up from the page, she spoke.
“You are late tonight.”
Anthony smiled faintly.
“The council meeting lasted longer than expected.”
Only then did Ingrid place the bookmark between the pages and close the book.
She removed her glasses and placed them carefully on the small wooden table beside her.
Then she stood.
Anthony barely had time to react before she wrapped her arms around him.
For a brief moment, the Alpha of the White Hunters allowed himself to relax.
Around the pack he was always Alpha.
Around her, he was simply her son.
She stepped back and studied his face.
“You look tired.”
“I am.”
“Sit.”
Anthony dropped onto the sofa beside her.
Ingrid sat gracefully across from him.
For a moment she simply watched him.
“How is the university foundation?” she asked.
Anthony leaned back and exhaled slowly.
“Busy.”
“That is not an answer.”
He chuckled quietly.
“Fine. We approved funding for the renovation of the park near the south dormitories. The sports complex will expand next semester. And the library requested additional funding for their archives.”
Ingrid nodded thoughtfully.
“That foundation was one of your better decisions.”
Anthony raised an eyebrow.
“One of them?”
She smiled faintly.
“You have made several questionable ones.”
Anthony laughed softly.
“That sounds like you.”
Her expression grew thoughtful.
“The university is neutral territory,” she said. “Helping them keeps the three surrounding packs cooperative.”
Anthony nodded.
“That was the idea.”
Ingrid studied him carefully.
“You are thinking about something else.”
Anthony hesitated.
“There was an incident today.”
Her eyes sharpened slightly.
“What kind of incident?”
“The library was vandalized.”
“That sounds like students.”
“It was.”
Anthony ran a hand through his hair.
“Kevin Tate was involved.”
Ingrid sighed quietly.
“The Alpha’s son from Red Hollow.”
“Yes.”
“That boy will bring trouble to his pack one day.”
Anthony nodded slowly.
“There was someone else there.”
Ingrid watched him carefully.
“A girl?”
Anthony smirked.
“You are predictable, Mother.”
“What is her name?”
“Florence Drake.”
Ingrid repeated the name silently.
“Drake…”
“Yes.”
“She works at the university?”
“She is the librarian.”
Ingrid tilted her head slightly.
“And?”
“She is an omega.”
His mother shrugged.
“Then she is used to suffering.”
Anthony frowned slightly.
“That is a cold thing to say.”
“It is a realistic thing to say.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“You are not interested in her, I hope?”
Anthony laughed openly this time.
“Interested?”
He shook his head.
“Florence Drake looks more like a fox than a wolf.”
Ingrid raised an eyebrow.
“A fox?”
“She is quiet. Always hiding behind books. She barely speaks.”
“But?”
Anthony sighed.
“But I felt sorry for her.”
Ingrid studied him for a long moment.
“There are wolves born to carry weakness like a brand for their entire lives,” she said quietly.
“And yes,” she added after a pause, “I suppose I feel sorry for her too. Even though I have never met her.”
Anthony looked toward the fireplace.
“I do not think she belongs in that pack.”
Ingrid did not answer that.
Instead she leaned forward and picked up a thin leather folder from the table beside her.
Anthony watched her with suspicion.
“What are you doing?”
She opened the folder slowly.
Inside were photographs.
Six of them.
She placed them on the table between them.
Anthony stared.
“What is this?”
“Your future Luna.”
He blinked.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Choose one.”
Anthony rubbed his face.
“Mother…”
“Anthony.”
Her voice had changed slightly.
It was the voice she used when speaking as Luna.
Not as mother.
The voice of authority.
He picked up the photographs reluctantly.
Each showed a young woman.
Beautiful.
Confident.
Daughters of powerful packs.
He recognized several of the names immediately.
Political alliances.
Strategic marriages.
Typical pack diplomacy.
Anthony examined them one by one.
His expression never changed.
Finally he placed them back on the table.
Ingrid watched him calmly.
“Well?”
Anthony raised one eyebrow.
“None of them are my type.”
She shrugged.
“That is irrelevant.”
Anthony leaned forward.
“You cannot seriously expect me to marry one of these women.”
Her gaze remained steady.
“I expect you to choose a Luna for your pack.”
“I thought you believed in true mates.”
Her expression darkened slightly.
“I did.”
Anthony frowned.
“What changed?”
She looked directly at him.
“Reality.”
The word hung between them.
After a moment she continued.
“Your curse makes the idea of a mate unlikely.”
Anthony clenched his jaw.
He hated that word.
Curse.
He had heard it his entire life.
From elders.
From healers.
From wolves whispering when they thought he could not hear.
Ingrid spoke quietly.
“Because of your curse, hoping for love would be foolish.”
Anthony did not respond.
“The White Hunters Pack needs stability,” she continued.
“A Luna is part of that stability.”
He stared at the photographs again.
Six strangers.
Six futures he did not want.
His mother folded her hands calmly.
“The Alpha and Luna rule together,” she said. “Without a Luna, the pack appears incomplete.”
Anthony sighed.
“You sound like the council.”
“The council is correct.”
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
“You always were ruthless.”
She smiled slightly.
“No.”
Her eyes softened.
“Only practical.”
Anthony stood and walked to the window.
Outside, the forest stretched under the pale moonlight.
The territory of the White Hunters Pack.
His responsibility.
His burden.
Behind him, Ingrid’s voice came softly.
“You cannot carry the pack alone forever.”
Anthony did not turn around.
“I have done it so far.”
“For two years.”
“That is long enough.”
Anthony remained silent.
After a moment he spoke.
“What if I do not want a Luna chosen like this?”
Ingrid answered calmly.
“Then you should have been born without a curse.”
The words were blunt.
But not cruel.
Anthony closed his eyes briefly.
For a moment, an unexpected image crossed his mind.
A quiet girl standing among broken shelves in a ruined library.
Florence Drake.
Small.
Defiant.
A fox among wolves.
He opened his eyes again.
No.
That was impossible.
He turned back toward his mother.
“I will think about it.”
Ingrid nodded.
“That is all I ask.”
Anthony picked up the photographs again.
Six women.
Six alliances.
Six possible futures.
None of them meant anything.
But his mother was right about one thing.
Without a Luna, the White Hunters Pack would appear weak.
And weakness was something their pack had never allowed.
Anthony placed the photographs back on the table.
“Leave them,” Ingrid said quietly.
“You may change your mind.”
Anthony nodded slowly.
But as he left the room, one thought refused to disappear from his mind.
Florence Drake.
The girl who looked like a fox.
And for the first time in years, the Alpha of the White Hunters wondered if fate could still surprise him.
- Writer
