The Alpha Return

FIFTEEN: The Summit of Lies

Knox's POV

The Riftlands stretched before me like a scar across the earth.

Barren, rocky, and windswept, the neutral territory bore the marks of countless battles. Ancient stones marked the boundaries where Alphas had once met to negotiate peace or declare war. The wind carried the scent of dust and old blood, a reminder that nothing here was permanent.

I stood at the edge of the summit grounds, my hand pressed against my chest. The shard pulsed beneath my skin, cold and hungry. It knew we were surrounded by enemies. It wanted to feed.

"Are you sure about this?" Valerie stood beside me, her hand hovering near my arm. She wouldn't touch me—couldn't, without triggering the shard's defenses. But she was close. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of her presence.

"I have to be seen," I said. "If I hide, they'll think I'm weak. Or worse, that I'm something they need to destroy."

"You're not weak."

"I know." I managed a small smile. "But they don't know that. And that's what I need to prove."

The summit grounds were crowded with representatives from every major pack in the northern territories. Banners flapped in the wind, the silver wolf of Frostfang, the iron claw of Ironclaw Valley, the shadowed crest of Shadowmere. And in the center, waiting for me, were the Alphas who had come to judge me.

Helena of Frostfang sat on a carved stone throne, her silver hair blowing in the wind. Soren of Ironclaw stood beside her, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. And Dante Vex sat in the shadows, his eyes fixed on me like a predator watching its prey.

I walked to the center of the gathering, my boots crunching on the rocky ground. Every eye was on me. Every wolf was weighing my strength, my weakness, my worth.

"Alpha Knox Valor." Helena's voice carried across the crowd. "You have returned from the dead. Or so they say. But in times like these, we must be certain. We must verify."

"Verify what?" I asked, my voice steady. "That I am who I say I am?"

"That you are not a weapon," Dante said, his voice smooth as poison. "That you are not a construct sent by our enemies. That the wolf standing before us is still one of us."

The crowd murmured. I felt their suspicion, their fear. They had heard the rumors—the shard, the corruption, the dark magic that pulsed in my chest. They had come to see if I was a threat.

"Dante speaks wisely," Helena said. "We must be certain. And the only way to be certain is the Blood Oath."

The Blood Oath. I had heard of it, an ancient ritual that compelled absolute truth from a wolf's own blood. It was dangerous, painful, and impossible to deceive. No wolf could lie under its power.

"Are you willing?" Soren asked, his voice sharp. "Or do you have something to hide?"

I looked at Valerie. She was pale, her hands clenched at her sides. She knew what I was about to do. She knew the cost.

I turned back to the Alphas. "I agree."

The ritual was prepared quickly. A stone altar was brought forward, its surface carved with ancient runes. A healer from the neutral territories stepped forward, carrying a ceremonial blade of obsidian.

I approached the altar and knelt. The healer took my hand, pressing the blade against my palm. I felt the sting of the cut, the warmth of blood pooling in my hand.

Then the healer spoke, her voice echoing across the silent grounds: "By the blood of the wolf, by the bond of the pack, by the truth that cannot be denied, speak what is written in your soul."

The runes on the altar flared. I felt the magic take hold, pulling the truth from my blood, from my bones, from the deepest part of me.

"I am Knox Valor," I said, the words torn from my throat. "I was held in the Hollow for five years. I bear a shard of corrupted magic in my chest."

The magic flared, demanding more.

"I still love Valerie."

The crowd gasped. I saw Valerie's face, pale and stricken. I heard the whispers spreading through the Alphas.

But the ritual wasn't finished.

The magic pulled deeper, reaching for something I didn't know was there. I felt the shard respond, pulsing with dark energy. And then the truth came out, raw and terrible:

"The shard is growing. When it reaches my heart, I won't just die. I'll become the Warden's puppet. A weapon aimed at everything I love."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

The summit erupted in chaos. Alphas shouted over each other, their voices rising in panic and fury. Some demanded my immediate execution. Others argued for containment, isolation, anything to keep the threat contained.

"Kill him now!" Soren shouted, his hand on his sword. "He's a bomb waiting to detonate!"

"Or we could destroy the Hollow," Helena countered. "Remove the source of the corruption. End this before it spreads."

Dante rose from his seat, his expression calm and measured. "We should deliberate. The Alpha has been truthful. We owe him that much."

I looked at Dante, and something in his eyes made my blood run cold. He was too calm. Too controlled. Like a wolf who had already made his move. But I knew, deep in my gut, that I couldn't trust him.

The summit continued, the Alphas arguing among themselves. I stood alone in the center of the chaos, my bleeding hand pressed against my chest.

And somewhere in the shadows, I felt a presence watching me. Cold. Familiar. Hungry.

The Warden's spy. Recording everything.