The Alpha Betrayed Mate

CHAPTER 5: FINDING THE BEAST.

Five Years Ago

The council chamber had not felt this tense in years.

Clay stood at the centre of the circle, shoulders squared, jaw set. Clay, as usual, looked cold, as if the events of Silver Crest did not affect him. Around him sat the council elders, men and women whose fur had long since silvered, whose voices carried the weight of tradition and law. Warriors lined the edges of the chamber, silent but alert, hands never straying far from their weapons.

Elder Karl struck his staff against the stone floor once.

“The beast attacked within our walls,” he said. “Inside the royal chambers. That alone is an insult we cannot ignore.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.

“It fled into the forest,” he added. “If we do nothing, it will return. Or worse, others like it will follow.”

Clay took a step forward. “Sending warriors blindly into the forest is not wisdom. It’s pride.”

Several elders turned sharply toward him.

“The forest you speak of is not empty land,” Clay continued, his voice steady but edged with warning. “Shadow Valley Clan borders it. Most of it is the Dark Breed territory. If our warriors cross those lines armed and hunting, it will be seen as provocation.”

Elder Torin scoffed. “You fear Dark Breeds now?”

“I respect them,” Clay replied. “There’s a difference.”

Karl’s eyes narrowed. “The Dark Breeds are monsters who rejected the Moon Goddess.”

I looked up at the elders. “That’s not why they are called Dark Breeds. They are full of Dark Margic and are half beast - half men.

“I see that our princess has been reading,” elder Torin replied.

“They are not wolves. Yes, they chose a different path,” Clay said. “And they defend their lands fiercely.”

A low growl rose from one of the younger council members. “Are you suggesting we do nothing while a beast stalks our people?”

“I’m suggesting we learn first,” Clay answered. “Tracks. Signs. Patterns. This creature did not behave like a lone animal. It attacked with purpose. With intelligence. Let's defend our territory.”

Torin leaned forward. “And while we ‘learn,’ another wolf could be killed. Another home violated.”

Clay clenched his fists. “Charging into unknown territory will start a war we are not prepared for.”

Elder Karl rose slowly from his seat. “You speak boldly for someone who has not yet been named Alpha.”

Clay felt the words like a blade pressing against his throat. He lifted his chin anyway. “I speak as the wolf who will bear the consequences.”

Karl’s gaze hardened. “You speak as though the title is already yours.”

Clay shook his head. Several elders nodded, their expressions sharp, almost pleased to see Clay challenged.

“You forget yourself,” Torin added. “Until the Moon Goddess herself seals the bond and the rites are completed, you are not Alpha. You do not overrule this council.”

Clay’s eyes flickered, something dark and restrained moving behind them. “And you forget that leadership is not a title. It’s a responsibility.”

A murmur of disapproval spread through the elders as Karl struck his staff again, louder this time. “Enough. The decision is not yours to make.”

Clay turned slowly, scanning the circle. “Then hear this. If you send warriors into that forest, they may not come back.”

Torin’s voice was cold. “Are you threatening us?”

“No,” Clay said. “I’m warning you.”

Karl straightened. “Silvercrest has never hidden behind fear.”

“And Silvercrest has never faced an enemy like this,” Clay shot back. “This beast broke wards. It bypassed guards. That alone tells us it may not be acting alone.”

Torin waved a dismissive hand. “Speculation.”

“Survival,” Clay corrected.

Another elder spoke up, her voice thin but sharp. “We will not have our authority undermined by a man who has not yet earned his place.”

Clay stiffened. “If you mean I haven’t earned it, then ask the warriors who follow me. Ask the pack who already listens when I speak.”

Karl’s eyes flashed. “This council does not answer to popularity.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating.

Finally, Karl turned to the gathered warriors. “At first light, a hunting party will enter the forest. You will track the beast and destroy it. Any resistance will be met with force.”

Clay stepped forward sharply. “You’re making a mistake.”

Karl did not look at him. “Your warning has been noted.”

Torin added, almost casually, “You may observe if you wish. But you will not command.”

The words stung more than Clay expected. He looked around the chamber one last time, at the elders who clung to old victories and fading power, at the warriors whose loyalty was being tested without their consent.

Then he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “If this ends in blood, remember that I tried to stop it.”

Karl finally met his gaze. “And if it succeeds, remember your place.”

The council chamber was already heavy with tension when the doors burst open. The echo of hurried footsteps and a father’s panicked voice shattered the fragile calm that had hung after Clay’s last warning.

A man stumbled in, clutching a limp boy in his arms. Blood streaked the child’s face and chest, soaking through his tunic. The father’s eyes were wild, desperate.

“My son!” he cried, dropping to his knees before the elders’ circle. “The beast, it attacked him near the lower ridge!”

A shocked murmur spread through the chamber. Torches flickered as if recoiling from the sight.

Elder Karl rose immediately, his expression carved in dread. “Bring him forward!” she ordered.

The man laid his son on the floor, trembling. “Please, you must avenge this. He barely escaped with his life!”

Elder Karl slammed his staff against the floor. “Enough debate! The beast has struck again. The council’s decision is final. Warriors will ride tonight.”

The chamber buzzed with approval.

But Clay didn’t move. He was watching the boy. The child couldn’t have been more than eight, his skin pale under the torchlight, his small hands trembling. The cuts looked shallow, not like those from claws. Clay’s eyes narrowed. He crouched beside him, his voice steady but gentle.

“Easy now,” Clay said, brushing hair from the boy’s forehead. “Tell me what happened, little one.”

The boy’s lips quivered. “I — I was in the woods.”

“With your father?” Clay asked.

The boy shook his head slowly. “No… I went to find my ball.”

The father shifted uneasily but said nothing.

Clay leaned closer, ignoring the elders’ disapproving glances. “And then?”

The boy swallowed hard, eyes darting to his father and then back to Clay. “I heard growling,” he whispered. “So I ran.”

“From the beast?”

“No,” the boy said, barely audible now. “I think from wolves.”

The murmurs in the room dimmed.

“Go on,” Clay encouraged softly.

“I tripped on a root and hit my head on a stone,” the boy admitted. “When I saw the blood, I screamed. I thought—” He looked toward his father, guilt clouding his small face. “I thought he’d be angry, so I said it was the beast. I didn’t mean to lie.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Elder Karl’s expression hardened, though his hand trembled faintly on his staff. The father’s face went pale as realization sank in. He knelt beside his son, voice cracking. “You—You said—”

The boy began to cry. “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean it. I was scared.”

Clay rose to his full height, turning to face the elders. “You see? There was no beast this time. Just fear.”

A tense silence filled the hall, but Clay pressed on.

“Fear is what drives these false alarms,” he said firmly. “Fear, not truth. If we keep chasing shadows, we’ll make enemies of our own allies and start a war we cannot finish.”

Torin looked uncertain for the first time. “But the earlier attack—”

“I don’t deny it happened,” Clay said. “But this,” he gestured to the boy, “proves that we have to be careful and strengthen our defences. If we send warriors into the forest tonight, we’ll be hunting ghosts.”

Karl’s face darkened, and he felt his pride stung before the council and his authority bruised in front of his peers.

“You presume much for a man who has not yet been chosen,” he said, his voice rising with contempt. “Do not mistake pity for leadership.”

Clay didn’t flinch. “And do not mistake stubbornness for wisdom.”

A few of the younger warriors exchanged uneasy glances. It was dangerous to challenge Karl, the eldest among them, but Clay spoke with a conviction that made it impossible not to listen.

Karl stepped closer, staff pressing against the floor with a sharp c***k. “You dare challenge this council again?”

“I challenge blindness,” Clay replied. “If leadership means sending men to die on a rumour, then maybe Silvercrest deserves its fate.”

Karl’s face went red. “Enough!” he thundered. “You will not speak another word!”

The old man’s fury filled the hall, but Clay stood unmoved. The boy’s quiet sobs echoed faintly between them.

“Take the child to the healers,” Clay said, ignoring Karl’s rage. Two guards obeyed before the elders could stop them, carrying the boy and his father away.

When the doors closed, Karl turned back to Clay, his tone seething with barely contained wrath. “You have embarrassed this council in front of witnesses. You forget your station.”

Clay met his gaze evenly. “And you forget that truth does not bend to titles.”

“Still, you are no Alpha,” Karl spat.

Clay’s voice dropped, low and calm. “Maybe not yet.”

The torches flickered violently, throwing their shadows across the ancient stone walls. Something shifted in the air, something primal. The warriors were tense.

Karl leaned forward. “Is that a threat?”

Clay didn’t answer immediately. He looked around the hall, the carved symbols of their ancestors, the silent witnesses of their pride and then back at the elders who clung to power out of fear.

“Now, why would I threaten the great Karl?”

Then, somewhere far beyond the chamber, a howl split the night. It was deep, long, and filled with a resonance that no ordinary beast could make. The torches flared, and every head turned toward the sound.

Clay’s eyes lifted toward the high windows, his instincts sharpening.

That was no ordinary wolf.

Karl opened his mouth to speak, but another howl followed, the answer of something darker, more powerful.

The council froze.

Clay’s voice was the only sound that broke the silence.

“You wanted to hunt the beast?” he said, eyes narrowing toward the night beyond. “It may have just found us first.”

I just watched Clay as he stood unwavered while my heart could not stop drumming. “Not this damn Beast,” I mummured.