The Alpha's Hidden Flame

Chapter Four

LUKA

The concrete mixer screams like something dying. Fourth load today, and the sun's barely kissed noon. Every wolf not on patrol hauls rebar, stacks blocks, digs post holes deep enough to discourage anything short of dynamite.

Cascade won't wait long. Richard Henley's got that particular strain of wounded pride that metastasizes into violence.

"Boss, we're gonna need more steel." Harvey drops another bundle, sweat turning his shirt transparent. "This rate, we'll burn through reserves by dark."

"Already ordered. Park's running escort." I check the tree line. Nothing moves but wind. "Double-time the east wall. That's where they'll hit first."

Vivi stands twenty feet away, tablet out, documenting our desperation with clinical precision. Short-sleeve button-down the color of old bones, khaki pants that actually fit instead of hanging like a sack. Someone's been shopping. The boots are sensible—steel-toed, broken in. She's learning.

Her hair's different today. Usually it's scraped into a bun tight enough to give me a headache. Now it hangs in a braid thick as my wrist, black silk catching light when she moves. Makes her look younger. Softer. Makes me want things I've got no business wanting.

"Mix is off." She says it quiet, like she's talking to herself. "Consistency's wrong for load-bearing."

Javier stops mid-pour. "What?"

Her shoulders tense. That careful blankness slides over her face—the one she wears when she's said too much. "Nothing. Continue."

But Javier's already examining the slurry. "s**t. She's right. Too much water."

"You know concrete?" I move closer. She steps back, maintaining that careful distance she keeps between her skin and the world.

"I observe." Flat as week-old beer. "That's my function."

"Observing concrete ratios?"

Something flickers behind her eyes. "Structural integrity impacts defensive capabilities. Worth noting."

Bullshit. But she's already retreating into herself, fingers flying over her tablet like she can disappear into data. I let it go. For now.

The work continues. Rosie runs the excavator, digging trenches for the footer. Tom and Sarah haul water, keeping workers hydrated. The cubs help where they can—Jamie sorting bolts with hands that still shake, Maya painting protection symbols on posts with more enthusiasm than skill.

"Never thought I'd be building walls on my grandmother's land." Sarah passes me water. I drain it, watching Vivi catalog our defenses. "She left me this place to be sanctuary. Guess walls are part of that now."

"One-twenty acres of sanctuary. Your grandmother had vision."

"She had wolves for neighbors. Learned to love what others feared." Sarah's smile turns knife-sharp. "Also learned to build really good fences."

Ernie stumbles past, carrying rebar that weighs more than he does. Kid's barely sixteen, stuck between forms—can't fully shift, can't fully human. Most packs would've culled him at birth. We're teaching him to use what he's got.

"Let me help." Vivi appears beside him, reaching for the steel.

"I got it." He jerks away, metal swinging wild. Would've brained her if she hadn't moved. Fast. Faster than anyone swimming in suppressants should be.

"My apologies." Back to robot voice. "I didn't mean to interfere."

But she's rubbing her arm where she dodged, and I catch it—the faintest web of scars disappearing under her sleeve. Precise. Deliberate. Medical.

She catches me looking, tugs the fabric down. Returns to her tablet like nothing happened.

"Could use more hands on the mixer." Diego's come to play foreman, aproned despite the construction work. "Since our observer's so interested in concrete consistency."

Her spine goes steel-straight. "I'm not permitted to provide physical assistance. Council regulations clearly state—"

"What's your PhD about?" The question ambushes us both. But I need to derail whatever regulation she's about to quote.

She blinks. "Lycanthropic Social Structures in Post-Integration California."

"Fancy way of saying wolf politics."

"Fancy way of saying survival patterns in hostile environments." Her chin lifts, and for a second she forgets to be empty. "How packs adapt when traditional structures collapse. How they rebuild. What they become."

"And we're what—field research?"

"You're data points." But there's something under the clinical words. Heat. Hurt. Hard to tell. "Anomalies worth investigating."

"That what we are? Anomalies?"

She meets my eyes straight on. "A pack that takes in halflings, humans, and rejects. Led by an alpha who faces down sixty wolves alone for a kid who isn't his. Yes. You're anomalies."

"Maybe the rest are just doing it wrong."

"Maybe." She turns back to her tablet. "Wouldn't matter either way. I just document. Others decide."

Javier curses. The latest batch of concrete looks wrong even to my untrained eye. Too thin. Won't hold worth s**t.

"You need plasticizers." Vivi speaks without looking up. "Fly ash if you have it. Three-quarter cup per batch that size. Reduces water requirement, increases strength."

Everyone stops. She freezes like prey caught in headlights.

"How the f**k do you know that?" Javier demands.

Her fingers white-knuckle the tablet. "General knowledge."

"That's specific as hell knowledge."

She's already backing away. That panic-rabbit pulse jumping in her throat. "I should—I have interviews scheduled—"

"Used to build houses." The words come quiet. Forced. Like each one costs her blood. "In Mexico. Volunteer work. Wolves who couldn't afford proper homes."

The silence stretches. Nobody mentions that Council princess volunteering in Mexico doesn't fit the picture she's painted. Nobody mentions that her hands—soft-looking as they are—know work.

"Three-quarter cup?" Javier finally asks.

She nods once. Flees like we're contagious.

"Interesting girl." Diego watches her go. "Lot of layers under all that nothing."

Too many layers. But we've got walls to build, and mysteries can wait.

The plasticizer works. Concrete sets smooth and strong, and Javier looks like he's swallowed something sour about taking advice from a Council observer. We pour footers, sink posts, start threading rebar into metal webs that might buy us time when Cascade comes calling.

Park arrives at three with a truck full of steel and bad news.

"Cascade's recruiting. Pulling wolves from Timber Ridge, Red Mountain. Richard's calling in debts." She spits tobacco juice, eyes hard as the concrete we're pouring. "Heard he's offering bounties."

"For Jamie?"

"For all of us. Hundred grand for you. Fifty for anyone harboring rogues. Twenty for locations on the halflings."

Ernie drops his shovel. Kid's worth twenty grand dead, nothing alive. The mathematics of hatred, worked out in dollar signs.

"Double the patrols. Nobody travels alone." I catch his shoulder before he rabbits. "You're worth more than their blood money. Remember that."

He nods, but his eyes stay wolf-wild. Tom steers him back to work, steady presence until the shaking stops.

Vivi reappears as the sun tilts toward evening. She's ditched the tablet, stands at the edge of our construction zone like she's fighting herself. That braid's coming loose, wisps of black silk framing her face. Makes her look real. Touchable.

Dangerous thought.

"Need something?" I keep working, threading rebar through forms.

"Observing shift patterns. How crisis impacts pack dynamics."

"That's not what you're doing."

She's quiet long enough I think she's gone. Then: "The footer depth is insufficient for the soil type. Should be eighteen inches, not twelve. Clay shifts in spring rains."

I turn. She's staring at the ground like it personally offends her.

"Speaking from experience?"

"Speaking from observation." But her hand's already reaching for a post, checking plumb without thinking. "The volunteer houses. We built in flood zones. Had to learn soil mechanics. Drainage. How to make things last when everything wants them to fall."

"Why'd you stop?"

Her hand jerks back like the wood burned her. "I graduated. Moved on to more... appropriate work."

"Council approved work."

"Yes."

But there's a world of grief in that single word. Girl's got ghosts, and they're not all pharmaceutical.

"Could use an extra pair of eyes on the north corner. If you're just observing."

She follows, careful to maintain distance. I've seen her dodge three accidental touches today. Steps back when anyone gets close. Flinches when Maya runs past, even though the kid's nowhere near her.

"There." She points to where we've set posts. "Water runs downhill from the tree line. First good rain, you'll have washout. Need French drains. Gravel. Perforate some PVC."

"You telling me how to fortify my own land?"

"I'm observing that your fortifications have a critical weakness." Back to robot voice, but her eyes stay on that corner like she's already seeing it fail. "What you do with that observation is your choice."

"What else are you observing?"

She's quiet so long I figure she's done talking. Then: "That you're building for siege, not skirmish. That every wolf here would die before letting Cascade take one of yours. That Sarah Chen gave you her inheritance because she believes in what you're building." Her voice drops. "That you're going to lose people when they come. Good people. And I'll have to watch. Document. Do nothing."

"That bother you? Doing nothing?"

"My feelings are irrelevant. I'm here to—"

"If you say observe one more time, I'm putting you to work on principle."

Her mouth snaps shut. I catch the ghost of what might be a smile before she kills it.

"Show me where you want the drains."

We work in almost-comfortable silence. She knows her s**t—angles, depths, water tables. Corrects my calculations twice, goes pink when she realizes she's touched my plans. Not me. Just paper I've touched. Still too much contact for whatever's broken inside her.

"Boss." Tom appears, face grim. "Scouts. West ridge."

I follow his point. Three wolves, too far to identify. Just watching. Making sure we see them watching.

"Let them look." I turn back to the work. "We'll be ready."

But Vivi's gone still beside me. Tablet out, documenting the scouts with shaking hands.

"You good?"

"Fine." Automatic response. "Simply noting the escalation pattern."

But she's not fine. That rabbit pulse is back, and she's pale under the construction dust. Girl recognizes someone. Or someone recognizes her.

"Get inside. Sun's setting anyway."

"I don't take orders from—"

"Inside. Now."

She goes, but not before I catch her looking back at those scouts. Fear or fury—can't tell which. Maybe both.

Dinner's subdued. Everyone knows we're being watched. Knows what's coming. But the cubs still need feeding, still need normal, so we pretend. Pass potatoes. Pour water. Act like we're not counting faces that might not be here tomorrow.

Vivi sits in her usual corner, picking at food she barely tastes. That braid's completely undone now, hair falling like ink around her shoulders. Makes her look younger. Vulnerable. Makes my wolf pace.

Jamie brings her bread, mumbles something that makes her almost-smile. Kid's got a gift for coaxing reactions from robots. She takes a small bite, chews like she's remembering how food works.

"Tomorrow we start weapons training." I pitch my voice to carry. "Everyone participates. Even the cubs. Cascade wants a war, they get one."

Murmurs of agreement. Rosie already planning scenarios. Park checking ammunition counts. My pack, preparing to bleed for each other.

"I should inform you that Council regulations prohibit observers from weapons training." Vivi doesn't look up from her plate. "I'll need to maintain distance."

"Noted." I stand. "Maintain all the distance you want. Long as you're breathing at the end."

She finally meets my eyes. Something flickers there—heat or challenge or just the light. "I'm harder to kill than I look."

"Good. We'll need hard to kill."

I leave her to her cold dinner and careful distance. Got rounds to make, defenses to check, wolves to reassure. But I feel her eyes follow me out, and that's a different kind of dangerous.

Outside, those scouts still watch from the ridge. Let them. Let them count our walls and weapons. Let them think they know what we're capable of.

They've never seen us bleed for each other. Never seen what love looks like with teeth.

They will.