Chapter 9: The Name That Shouldn’t Exist
1478 Words
The first thing Hadassah noticed was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind that settled after a storm—but the kind that crept in before something broke. The pack grounds were too still that morning. Conversations hushed when she passed. Warriors lingered longer at their posts. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, as though the territory itself was holding its breath.
Something had changed.
She felt it in her bones.
Eliakim had not summoned her since the council’s verdict. No orders. No reprimands. No guarded conversations that ended the moment she entered a room. The absence pressed heavier than his presence ever had.
Her wolf paced restlessly.
He is waiting, it murmured.
“For what?” Hadassah whispered.
The answer came sooner than she expected.
A horn sounded from the outer watchtower—sharp, urgent, unmistakable.
Intruders.
Hadassah turned just as warriors began moving, their disciplined formation breaking into swift precision. Eliakim emerged from the council hall moments later, already armored, his expression carved from stone.
Their eyes met.
Something unspoken passed between them—not comfort, not reassurance, but readiness. Whatever was coming, it would not be gentle.
“Stay inside,” he ordered, voice low but absolute.
Hadassah stiffened. “I can help.”
“This isn’t a debate.”
Before she could respond, a scout rushed forward, bow still in hand, breath ragged. “Alpha—there’s a group requesting audience. They’re not rogues. They bear markings from the Eastern Ridge pack.”
A ripple moved through the gathered wolves.
Eastern Ridge.
Hadassah’s chest tightened.
That pack was neutral territory—strategic, secretive, known for political games rather than brute force. They did not cross borders without reason.
Eliakim’s jaw tightened. “How many?”
“Three. One woman. Two guards.”
A woman.
Hadassah felt it then—a sharp, sudden pull behind her ribs. Not pain. Not the broken echo of a bond.
Recognition.
Her wolf froze.
No… it whispered.
Eliakim noticed the shift in her posture. His gaze flicked to her face, sharp and searching. “Do you know them?”
“I—” Hadassah swallowed. “I don’t know. But… something feels wrong.”
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded once. “Bring them to the outer hall. All guards present.”
The Eastern Ridge delegation arrived minutes later.
They walked calmly, as though stepping into a den of armed wolves was nothing more than a formality. The two male guards stayed back, heads lowered in respect.
The woman stepped forward alone.
She was tall. Elegant. Wrapped in deep blue silk trimmed with silver thread. Her dark hair was braided intricately down her back, adorned with bone charms that marked rank and lineage.
When her eyes lifted, Hadassah’s breath left her lungs.
No.
It couldn’t be.
The woman smiled.
“Hadassah,” she said smoothly. “You look… thinner.”
The world tilted.
Miriam.
The name slammed into Hadassah like a physical blow. Her heart began to race, blood roaring in her ears as memories she’d buried clawed their way to the surface.
The clearing.
The red dress.
The bond snapping like a bone under pressure.
Eliakim stepped forward instantly, positioning himself half a step in front of Hadassah—subtle, instinctive, unmistakable.
“You stand before Alpha territory,” he said coldly. “State your purpose.”
Miriam’s gaze flicked to him, assessing, curious. “So this is the Alpha,” she murmured. “I expected someone older.”
A low growl rippled through the guards.
Miriam smiled wider, then inclined her head. “I am Miriam of the Eastern Ridge pack. I come bearing news… and a request.”
Hadassah found her voice at last. “You have no right to be here.”
Miriam’s eyes returned to her, sharp as blades. “On the contrary, sister. I have every right.”
“Sister,” Hadassah spat. “You lost that title the night you betrayed me.”
A hush fell over the hall.
Eliakim’s shoulders tensed.
Miriam’s smile softened, feigning sorrow. “Still holding onto the past, I see.”
“You broke the bond,” Hadassah said, stepping forward despite the warning pressure of Eliakim’s presence. “You destroyed my life.”
Miriam’s gaze flicked between them now, something calculating settling behind her eyes. “Is that what he told you?” she asked lightly.
Eliakim’s eyes darkened. “Speak plainly. Why are you here?”
Miriam sighed theatrically. “Very well. I came to inform you that Abner has been named provisional Alpha of Hadassah’s former pack.”
The words hit like poison.
Hadassah’s vision swam.
Abner. Alpha.
Her wolf snarled.
“That’s impossible,” Hadassah said hoarsely. “He violated sacred law.”
“And yet,” Miriam replied, “power has a way of forgiving sins when it’s convenient.”
Eliakim’s expression turned lethal. “Get to the point.”
“The point,” Miriam said, stepping closer, “is that Abner wants her back.”
Silence exploded.
Hadassah stared at her, disbelief curdling into fury. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.” Miriam tilted her head. “But broken bonds have consequences. Political ones. He fears retaliation. Rebellion. And you—” her gaze slid to Eliakim again, lingering, “—are inconveniently alive.”
Eliakim moved fully in front of Hadassah now. “She is under my protection.”
Miriam arched a brow. “Protection?” Then she laughed softly. “Oh, Alpha… do you know what she is to you yet?”
The air snapped.
Hadassah felt it too—a sudden, violent pull between her and Eliakim, sharper than before, burning hot beneath her skin.
Eliakim stiffened.
His wolf surged forward, furious.
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
Miriam’s eyes glittered with satisfaction. “The bond you feel—it’s not a mistake. It never was.”
Hadassah’s heart thundered.
“She is your mate,” Miriam said softly. “Your true one.”
The hall erupted.
The elders rose from their seats almost as one.
Shock rippled through them—not the kind born of rumor, but of truth spoken too bluntly, too publicly. Bonds were sacred. To expose one like this, in front of warriors and guards, was a declaration of war in itself.
“This is a grave accusation,” Elder Malachi said sharply, slamming his staff against the stone floor. “You dare stand in another Alpha’s hall and speak of fate so carelessly?”
Miriam turned to him with a calm smile. “Fate does not care about halls or borders, Elder. It only reveals itself when it chooses.”
Hadassah swayed.
Her knees weakened, the weight of Miriam’s words crashing over her like a second betrayal. Not Abner. Not the pack she lost.
Him.
Eliakim.
The Alpha she had planned to use. Manipulate. Destroy from the inside.
Her mate.
Her wolf recoiled in shock, then surged forward, furious and confused. The pull between them sharpened, no longer ignorable, no longer distant. It roared to life, demanding recognition.
“No,” Hadassah whispered, clutching the front of her cloak. “That’s not possible.”
Eliakim’s breathing had turned uneven. His fists clenched slowly at his sides, every muscle in his body drawn tight as if holding back a force that threatened to tear him apart.
He had felt it for weeks.
The pull.
The restraint it took not to touch her.
The instinct to protect her at all costs.
His wolf snarled, loud and unrestrained.
Mine.
“Enough,” Eliakim said at last, his voice low but shaking with restrained violence. “You do not come here to expose bonds and provoke chaos without consequence.”
Miriam inclined her head slightly. “I came to deliver truth. What you do with it is no longer my concern.”
She stepped back, signaling her guards.
“But know this,” she added, eyes locking onto Hadassah. “Abner will not accept losing her twice. And he will use pack law to force your hand.”
Hadassah’s blood ran cold.
A formal challenge meant bloodshed. It meant dominance trials. It meant death—or submission.
Eliakim looked at her then, really looked at her, and the war inside his eyes was unmistakable.
This was no longer about revenge.
This was about survival.
And fate had already chosen its battlefield.
Growls. Gasps. Shocked murmurs.
Eliakim stood frozen.
Hadassah couldn’t breathe.
Miriam smiled like a victor. “Which makes this… awkward. Because Abner plans to challenge you for her.”
The words echoed like a death sentence.
Eliakim slowly turned to Hadassah, his eyes dark, conflicted, burning with something he could no longer deny.
A challenge meant war.
And the prize—
Was her.
Hadassah’s wolf howled.
And in that moment, she realized—
Running had never been an option.
- Writer
