The First Seed
798 Words
Bethany
I see her first.
Reza bursts out of the supply room like she’s been set on fire, hair messy, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and unmistakably bruised. Her eyes are bright, unfocused, her breath uneven like she’s just run too far, too fast.
Or like she’s been kissed within an inch of her senses.
I still.
The hallway hums with normal pack noise, footsteps, voices, the low rhythm of routine, but Reza fractures it. She doesn’t look left or right. She doesn’t look ashamed.
She looks undone.
My jaw tightens while I watch her.
She disappears around the corner, moving too quickly, shoulders hunched like she’s bracing for impact. I don’t follow. I don’t need to.
Because seconds later, the supply room door opens again.
And Aaron steps out.
The sight of him hits harder than I expect.
Want is written all over his face, raw, unguarded, almost violent in its intensity. His control, the thing everyone reveres him for, is cracked wide open. His eyes are dark, unfocused. His posture is tight, like he’s physically holding himself together by force of will alone.
He doesn’t scent the hallway. Doesn’t register me standing there.
He looks like a man interrupted mid-fall.
Cold fury spreads through my chest, slow and precise.
She touched him.
No, worse.
She affected him.
I’ve shared his bed. I know what he looks like after. I know the difference between release and denial.
This is denial.
This is hunger.
My fingers curl at my sides.
Reza didn’t just cross a line. She doesn’t even know the line exists. She came in soft and new, wide-eyed, pretending she didn’t see the way the pack watched her. Pretending she didn’t understand what it means to draw an Alpha’s attention.
Pretending she didn’t know who he is.
I step forward just as Aaron finally blinks, awareness snapping back into place. His gaze flicks to me, and something flashes there, guilt, maybe. Or irritation.
It doesn’t matter.
I smile anyway.
“Rough meeting?” I ask lightly.
He stiffens. “Bethany. I didn’t..”
I wave it off, closing the distance with practiced ease. My hand brushes his arm, familiar, grounding. “You don’t have to explain. I just wanted to make sure everything was… handled.”
The word lands.
His jaw tightens.
Handled.
I note that reaction carefully and tuck it away.
This conversation isn’t for now.
For now, I watch Reza through the front windows as she leaves the building, moving too fast, like the ground beneath her might give way.
Marked without permission. Claimed without understanding. Dangerous without even trying.
Fine.
I turn back to Aaron, soften my voice, lower it just enough to feel intimate. “She’s overwhelmed,” I say gently. “Anyone would be. New pack. New rules. New… expectations.”
He doesn’t answer.
“But that’s exactly why someone needs to keep an eye on her,” I continue smoothly. “Before she gets hurt. Or hurts someone else.”
This time, his gaze sharpens.
Good.
The first seed is planted.
That night, I move carefully.
I don’t rage.
I don’t confront.
I coordinate.
Action one: I speak to Mara and Kellen separately, senior pack members, respected, steady. I don’t accuse. I don’t speculate.
I express concern.
“She’s very intense,” I murmur, keeping my tone low and thoughtful. “I just don’t want her misinterpreting things. Alphas have responsibilities. And new wolves don’t always understand boundaries.”
Mara frowns slightly. Kellen nods.
Concern spreads faster than suspicion ever could.
Action two: I suggest adjusted duty rotations. Nothing punitive. Nothing obvious. Extra training shifts. Late patrols. Pairings that keep Reza occupied, observed, accountable.
Protected, if anyone asks.
Watched, in truth.
And action three: I make sure the narrative is set before Reza has a chance to speak for herself.
“She’s been through a lot,” I tell the inner circle quietly. “Emotional volatility after bonding trauma isn’t uncommon. We should be cautious.”
No lies.
Just framing.
By the time the moon rises and the pack gathers, the groundwork is already laid.
I take my place at Aaron’s side, not clinging, not possessive.
Present.
Proven.
When Reza enters the clearing, late and pale, I feel the shift immediately. The way Aaron’s attention flickers despite himself. The way his posture changes without permission.
He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
Good.
Let him see what he risks.
Let her see what she’s up against.
I don’t glare. I don’t smirk. I don’t acknowledge her at all.
I simply belong where I am.
If Reza thinks this was just a kiss..
She’s already lost.
And if she thinks I’ll step aside for someone who doesn’t even understand the game she’s playing?
I smile faintly into the moonlight.
I’m already moving.
- Writer
