Chosen by the Alpha Who Destroyed My Pack

Chapter 3 – Crossing the Line

The city thinned out by inches.

Streetlights fell behind them, replaced by the occasional distant farmhouse glow. Asphalt narrowed, then turned to the rougher, patched road that hugged the dark bulk of the hills. The clock on the dash blinked 2:14 a.m. in faint blue digits.

Sylvi sat in the front passenger seat, hands folded a little too tightly in her lap. Behind them, Jorek’s breathing rasped steady and slow, the IV line whispering with every bump.

The SUV smelled like leather, wet earth, and wolves. Too many wolves.

“Relax,” the man driving said without taking his eyes off the road.

She stared at the blur of trees in the headlights. “I am relaxed.”

“Your heart says otherwise.”

Of course he could hear it. Of course.

“You don’t get to eavesdrop on my cardiovascular system,” she muttered.

From the back, the beta—Maerin, if she’d caught the quiet introduction right—snorted. “You told an alpha he can’t listen to your heart. We’re all going to die.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Sylvi said.

Corren’s mouth twitched, barely. “He’s exaggerating.”

“He’s not,” Maerin replied. “You are notoriously bad at not making problems worse.”

“I brought you in,” Corren said, still calm. “That improves our odds.”

Sylvi glanced at him then, sharp. “You keep saying ‘our.’ Is this a pack thing or a region thing?”

“Both,” Maerin answered. “If this spreads, nobody’s borders will matter.”

The casual “if this spreads” rubbed her nerves raw. Her wolf pressed closer to her skin as the scents outside shifted—less exhaust, more damp soil and moss.

“How far?” she asked.

“Half an hour to the boundary,” Corren said. “Another twenty inside.”

“The boundary of what, exactly?” she said lightly. “Your rustic murder commune?”

Maerin huffed a laugh. “She’s charming. I see why you like her.”

Corren’s fingers tightened on the wheel for a fraction of a second. “My territory,” he said. “My pack. Forest, housing, training grounds. And a healer’s wing that’s about to become your problem as well as mine.”

She let that “my” roll around in her head, testing for hooks. It didn’t catch. Not yet.

“How many did you say are sick?” she asked.

“Two confirmed,” Maerin said. “Jorek and Kalen. One suspected case in a neighboring pack—reports of a bond going… quiet.”

Quiet. Not broken. Not yet.

“Bonds don’t just go quiet,” Sylvi said, the words coming out sharper than she meant. “Not without death. Or deliberate interference.”

Silence pooled for a few beats.

“You’ve seen interference before,” Corren said.

It was not a question. He watched the road, but she felt the weight of his attention like a hand between her shoulder blades.

Sylvi looked back at Jorek instead. “Once,” she said. “Years ago. It didn’t look exactly like this.”

“And?” Maerin prompted.

“And I’m not here to give you a full case history of every wolf I’ve ever touched.” She kept her tone even. “You hired me to look at yours. I’ll start there.”

“Hired,” Maerin repeated dryly. “Is that what we’re calling abduction with plausible deniability now?”

“If I wanted to abduct her,” Corren said, “she wouldn’t be sitting up front making jokes.”

“You sure about that?” Sylvi said. “Maybe abduction brings out my best material.”

The corner of his mouth did that almost-smile again. It would have been easier to handle if he were a complete humorless bastard.

The road dipped, then rose. Trees closed in, black walls crowding the shoulders. Up ahead, something thrummed low in the air—so subtle a human would have missed it.

Sylvi’s wolf went on high alert.

We’re close.

Corren slowed. The headlights picked out a line of stones half-buried in moss on either side of the road, etched with faint symbols that glimmered when the beams hit them just right.

A border.

Power brushed over her like cool water as they crossed—old, layered, recognizing pack and rank, testing stranger.

Sylvi’s skin prickled. The magic slid against her, curious, then recoiled, confused. Not part of any pack. Not claimed. Not unclaimed, either.

“You feel that?” Maerin asked.

“She’s not blind,” Corren said quietly.

Sylvi set her jaw as they passed deeper between the trees. The air grew thicker with scent—smoke, fur, damp leaves, the faint tang of cooking from somewhere out of sight. Her chest ached with a hurt so old it felt like it belonged to someone else.

Don’t, her wolf warned. Don’t remember.

Too late.

For a heartbeat, another forest pressed up against this one in her mind’s eye: snow-laden pines, the smell of her mother’s stew, pups tumbling in frost. Then the memory lurched, red washing over white.

She dragged herself back to the present, fingers digging into her own knees.

“Breathe, Arkett,” Maerin said quietly from the back. “We don’t need you passing out over the welcome mat.”

“I’m fine.”

Corren’s head turned just enough that she caught his profile in the dashboard glow. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Then you can rest.”

She didn’t want to rest. Rest meant dreams, and dreams meant she couldn’t keep the past out.

Lights appeared ahead between the trees—warm yellow squares, not harsh like the clinic’s fluorescents. Low buildings clustered around a central clearing, shapes moving between them. The SUV rolled out of the tunnel of forest onto packed dirt and stopping dust.

A dozen wolves lifted their heads as they pulled in. Not just wolves—people, too, in loose clothes and bare feet, some shifting between shapes as easily as breathing.

Home, her wolf whispered, aching.

No. Not ours, Sylvi answered, forcing steel into the thought. Never again.

Corren killed the engine. For a moment no one moved.

Then he said, not to Maerin this time, but to her, “Welcome to Vael territory, Sylvi. For the next forty-eight hours, at least.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt with fingers that only shook a little.

“Let’s make it worth the drive,” she said, and stepped out into the heart of a pack she’d sworn she’d never belong to.