Claimed by the Scarred Alpha

The freezing mist clung to Rowena’s skin like a shroud as she moved through the ancient forest. Mud sucked at her iron boots with every step, but she didn’t slow down. Behind her, the clank of Corin’s shield against his backplate echoed like a damn bell. “Stop making noise,” she hissed, voice low and sharp. Her gloved hand tightened around the hilt of her sword. The leather was slick with fog. Above them, the full moon bathed the dead leaves in silver light, turning the woods into a graveyard of shadows. A heavy branch snapped to their right. Rowena froze. In one fluid motion, she drew her blade. The sharp ring of steel cut through the silence. Brant and Corin instantly raised their spears, backs pressed together. A blur of dark fur exploded from the bushes. It slammed into Corin with brutal force, sending him crashing backward into the mud with a strangled yell. A massive brown wolf stood over him, jaws clamped around the iron shoulder plate. Metal screeched against fangs as the beast shook its head violently. Rowena lunged forward without hesitation. Her sword sliced through the air, aimed straight for the wolf’s neck. The creature leaped back at the last second, dodging the deadly arc. It bared its blood-stained teeth at her, eyes glowing with feral rage. Then three more wolves emerged from the trees, silently cutting off their path back to camp. Rowena’s breath caught as the bushes directly in front of her parted. A monstrous black wolf stepped into the moonlight. He was enormous — the size of a warhorse — with thick, battle-scarred fur. Deep scars carved across his snout and over his left eye. Power and dominance rolled off him in waves. Rhydian Black. The Alpha they had been hunting for weeks. Their eyes locked. Time seemed to stop. A sudden, vicious heat exploded in Rowena’s chest, burning straight through her steel breastplate. Her heart slammed against her ribs as if trying to break free. She gripped her sword so tightly her knuckles turned bone-white, yet her hands still trembled. The cold night air bit at her face, but her skin felt like it was on fire. Rhydian took one slow step closer. He didn’t growl. He didn’t bare his teeth. He simply stared at her. His golden eyes weren’t wild like the others. They burned with raw anger… and something deeper. Something darker. He lowered his massive head slightly and inhaled, scenting the air between them. Rowena couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. That strange, scorching heat pulsed hotter under her ribs, spreading through her veins like liquid flame. In the distance, a hunting horn blared — the main patrol was closing in. Rhydian’s ears flicked. His gaze dropped to the sword in her shaking hands, then back to her face one last time. Without warning, he spun around and vanished into the darkness. The rest of the pack followed like shadows, swallowed by the night. Rowena stood frozen, sword still raised. “They ran,” Brant muttered, helping a groaning Corin back to his feet. “Cowards.” Rowena didn’t answer. She pressed a gloved hand to her chest plate. Even through the cold steel, she could still feel it — that unnatural, angry fire burning inside her. Meanwhile, deep in the woods…  Rhydian’s powerful paws pounded against the wet earth as he raced through the trees. Garek and the others ran close behind. They didn’t stop until they reached the safety of the old gorge, where the river roared far below. He leaped over a fallen pine and slipped behind a large gray boulder. Bones cracked and muscles tore as he forced the shift. The pain was familiar, but tonight it felt sharper. When he rose on two human legs, the freezing air stung his bare, scarred skin. He grabbed the rough wool pants hidden in the rock crevice and yanked them on. Garek shifted beside him, spitting out a pine needle. “Why the hell did we run? There were only three of them. We could’ve torn them apart before the patrol even arrived.” Rhydian didn’t answer. He pressed a hand to his chest, jaw clenched. A strange, scorching heat still burned behind his ribs, like a brand pressed against his lungs. He couldn’t stop smelling her — cold iron, sharp winter wind, and something dangerously addictive. “No,” he finally growled, voice low and rough. “The main patrol was too close. I won’t risk the pack for three dead knights.” “She tried to take my head off!” Garek snarled, pointing at the fresh scratch on his shoulder. “You attacked first,” Rhydian said coldly. “I told you to wait.” He brushed past Garek and climbed down the rocky path toward their hidden camp. The scent of smoke and roasted meat greeted him as he entered the cave system. Torv, the old one-armed warrior, sat near the entrance. “You smell… strange,” the elder muttered as Rhydian walked by. Rhydian stopped. His claws itched to burst free. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and kept walking until he reached the back of the cave, where a small pool of water dripped from the ceiling. He knelt and splashed the icy water over his face and scarred neck. It did nothing to cool the fire raging inside him. The moment he closed his eyes, he saw her again — that fierce female knight with white knuckles gripping her sword, moonlight glinting off her breastplate, defiance burning in her eyes. His wolf snarled and paced restlessly beneath his skin, desperate to break free. Rhydian slammed his fist into the stone wall. Blood trickled down his knuckles. He needed to stay away from the border. He needed to stay away from her.