Destined for the Alpha

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Light dribbles through the dense canopy of the forest, casting an eerie luminescence on the clearing where I stand. My heart hammers against my chest, breaths escaping in short, rapid bursts. The wolf before me is a behemoth, fur gleaming like quicksilver in the ghostly light. This isn't just any wolf. I recognize the commanding aura, the way his gaze holds wisdom and an unfathomable depth.

I should be afraid, but as a she-wolf unable to shift, fear has long been replaced by resignation. I am inadequate in the eyes of my pack. Except for Lucas, whose gentle encouragement often feels like the only thread tethering me to a semblance of belonging. But here, now, with this wolf—this intruder—my instincts scream one thing: run.

I pivot on my heel, the soles of my boots digging into the earth as I launch myself forward. I can hear the wolf behind me, its heavy paws thudding against the ground, a rhythm to my racing heartbeat. Trees blur into a collage of green and brown as I dart between them, but no matter how fast I go, I know it's not enough.

Then, suddenly, silence.

My feet stumble to a halt, and I whip around. The massive wolf is gone, replaced by...a boy? No, not just any boy—a young man stands where the beast had been, broad-shouldered and tall with tousled blonde hair that falls carelessly over his forehead. His eyes, a piercing blue, hold mine captive, and he smiles, a disarming curve of lips that shouldn't belong to someone who was just a fearsome creature.

"Grace," he says, his voice a smooth baritone that seems to vibrate through the cool night air. "Don't be scared. I'm not here to harm you."

"Who are you?" I manage to choke out, my voice wavering despite my best efforts to appear composed. The memory of Lucas’ assurance flits through my mind, a stark contrast to the tension that grips me now.

"Jackson," he introduces himself, taking a step closer, hands raised in a show of peace. "I'm the Alpha of the Ghost Moon pack."

The revelation hits me like a physical blow. Jackson—the rival Alpha who, until now, was nothing more than a whispered threat among my pack members. And yet, here he stands, exuding a calmness that belies our packs' strained relationship.

"An Alpha," I repeat, grappling with the shock and the inexplicable sense of curiosity that bubbles up within me. "What do you want with me?"

His smile fades slightly, turning more contemplative. "I've heard about you, Grace. The she-wolf who walks among wolves but cannot become one. You're more than what your pack deems you to be."

My throat tightens at his words; they echo the very thoughts I've tried to suppress—the yearning to prove myself, to shatter the fragile image they have of me. But could this rival Alpha really understand my plight?

"Is that why you're here?" I ask, finding a stubborn edge to my voice. "To pity me?"

"Far from it," Jackson replies, his tone earnest. "But we'll have time to discuss that. For now, just know that I mean you no harm."

The forest around us seems to hold its breath, waiting. His presence is overwhelming, and yet, there's a sincerity in his gaze that makes me want to believe him. Lucas always said I had a good sense of character. Would he say the same now, facing the enigmatic Jackson?

My pulse races, a mixture of fear and something I can't quite name. Jackson's eyes hold mine, and it's like looking into the heart of the forest itself—deep, mysterious, and wild. His features are sharp, sculpted as if by the very hands of nature, his jawline a testament to strength. The light dances across his tousled hair, giving him an ethereal glow that seems at odds with the power I sense rolling off him in waves.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that resonates through the quiet night. It's a simple question, but it's laced with concern, and it does something strange to my stomach, like butterflies taking flight.

I realize I'm staring and shake my head to clear it. "I'm...fine," I reply, though my breathlessness betrays me.

"Good." He steps closer, and I tense, instinctively preparing to run. But there's no threat in his approach, only curiosity and something akin to wonder. "You know, you're nothing like they described you."

"Who?" The word comes out sharper than I intend, defensive.

"Other packs. My pack." He shrugs, and his casual demeanor somehow makes him even more attractive. "They paint you as weak. Fragile. But I see the fire in your eyes, Grace. You're anything but."

His words ignite something within me—a fierce pride, a desire to be seen for who I truly am. And yet, this recognition from a rival Alpha, one whose very presence should send me running, anchors me here instead.

"Thank you," I whisper, surprised by the gratitude swelling in my chest.

"Lucas speaks highly of you, too," he adds, and the mention of Lucas's name sends a pang through me. Lucas, who has always been by my side, who sees me when others look away. My feelings for him are tangled, complex, and until this moment, I thought they were unwavering.

But Jackson is different. He's an enigma, a challenge, a storm to my calm sea. And as he stands before me, a smile playing on his lips, I feel drawn to him in a way that both excites and terrifies me.

"Jackson," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper as I grapple with this unexpected attraction. "Why are you doing this? Why come to me?"

"Because," he says, stepping closer still, his gaze never leaving mine, "sometimes the most interesting stories are hidden behind the most unassuming covers. And I want to read yours, Grace."

The intensity of his stare locks me in place, and I realize then that I'm drowning in a sea of blue—the color of his eyes. My heart pounds against my ribcage, a traitorous drumbeat that sings of possibilities I've never dared to dream. How can this man, this Alpha from a rival pack, stir such feelings within me?

"Be careful, Jackson," I warn, my voice a mix of defiance and desire. "Some stories have teeth."

"Then I'll take my chances," he says, and the promise in his voice wraps around me like a warm blanket on a cold night.

I should pull away, put distance between us. But I don't. Instead, I find myself leaning in, captivated by the danger, the allure, the sheer impossibility of what's unfolding between us. And as the morning holds its breath around us, I wonder if this is how it feels to finally be seen—not as a weakling, not as an orphan, but as Grace.