The Alpha and Teresa

Chapter 10: Secrets of the Pack

The moonlight was soft and silvery, casting long shadows over the estate nestled deep within the forested hills. The SilverMist Pack compound was alive with movement—guards patrolling the outer perimeter, young wolves training silently in the clearing, and elders exchanging low conversations in the central hall. To the outside world, it looked like nothing more than a secluded private estate, but for those within, it was home. A stronghold. A legacy.

Inside the main manor, Kael stood alone on the second-floor balcony, staring at the night sky as the breeze played with his dark hair. His jaw was tight, his posture rigid. He had spent the day in his private study room, poring over ancient pack medical scrolls and modern textbooks on lycan anatomy and healing practices. Though he avoided the limelight, Kael wasn’t idle. He was preparing—mentally, physically, spiritually. As the rightful alpha, his responsibilities ran deeper than politics or command. He needed to understand the very biology of his people, to protect and heal them when danger came.

Behind him, the balcony doors creaked open.

“You’ve been out here too long,” Smith said as he stepped out beside him, the sound of a bottle cap popping echoing softly. He handed Kael a chilled drink. “You need to get out of your head once in a while.”

Kael didn’t respond at first. “Do they still whisper about me?” he asked finally, his voice low and unreadable.

Smith leaned against the rail. “They do. But they’re used to it. The myth of the ghost alpha suits them. Keeps order. Keeps fear.”

Kael chuckled bitterly. “Fear. That’s all I am to them.”

“You’re more than that, Kael. You’re the backbone of this pack. They don’t know it, but I do. You’re the reason we’re still stable after what happened years ago.”

Kael turned slightly. “And you? How long will you keep wearing the crown for me?”

Smith shrugged. “Until you’re ready. Or until you kick me out of the throne room.”

There was silence between them, but it was comfortable. Bonded by brotherhood, trust, and a dark past.

Smith looked out at the forest, the lights of the pack house glimmering through the trees. “You know Daisy’s been asking about you again.”

Kael rolled his eyes. “Let her ask. I have no interest in entertaining her games.”

“She’s persistent,” Smith muttered. “And not just about you.”

Kael glanced sideways. “You?”

Smith’s jaw ticked. “She’s relentless. Pretty, smart, yes—but the possessiveness... it’s suffocating. I’ve told her time and again I’m not interested, but she’s not used to rejection.”

Kael gave him a wry smile. “The mighty Smith, chased by the princess of pride.”

Smith chuckled. “That’s what you get when your father was a legend and your mother descended from the Midnight Claw lineage. People expect greatness—and they throw women at you like it’s a sport.”

Kael sobered. “And still no mate?”

Smith’s expression dimmed. “Still none. Just shadows and dreams. I’ve even started hoping the Moon Goddess skipped me.”

Kael didn’t respond. He thought of his own dreams—visions of a pair of amber eyes that called to something primal inside him. But every time he tried to grasp the face, it vanished into mist.

He shook it off.

**

Daisy stood in the private lounge of the school bearing her name—*Daisy's School*, the pride of her lineage. Her lips were painted crimson, her hair tumbling in perfectly styled waves. She watched the courtyard from the window, eyes trailing after Smith as he crossed the open grounds.

Mine.

The word echoed in her chest, loud and persistent. He *had* to be hers. He was the strongest wolf of their generation—second only to Kael, and far more visible. Her influence was unmatched in the school, but it meant little if she couldn’t have him at her side. She imagined the world they’d rule together—her, the fierce she-wolf with a name carved into history, and Smith, the dignified and powerful alpha.

But he was distant. Always so composed. So infuriatingly indifferent.

And recently… too distracted.

Daisy narrowed her eyes as she noticed a few human girls near the library giggling when Smith passed. *Pathetic.* They didn’t understand him. He wasn’t just some crush. He was *hers.*

She turned sharply, her heels clicking as she headed for the head office. If charm wouldn't work, maybe influence would. Her family had founded this school. Her grandfather’s mate had adored daisies, and he’d named the school after both the flower and her.

Daisy wasn’t just a name.

She was legacy.

Later that evening, Kael returned to the SilverMist compound’s archives—a subterranean vault of scrolls, digital files, and relics. He wasn't just looking to heal the pack. He was trying to find clues… about his past. About the death of a certain moon lady. About the mark etched into his father’s wrist.

He didn’t want to believe what his heart whispered.

That her death… wasn't a casualty of war.

He pulled a scroll from the shelf—*The Lost History of the Moon Clans.* As he read, a distant scent touched his senses. Faint but… soothing. Something floral, earthy, like wild gardenia and the forest after rain.

Kael closed his eyes. That scent again. He had dreamt of it.

A whisper from the Moon Goddess?

**

Elsewhere in the town, miles away, Teresa was staring at her reflection in the mirror of her modest room, unaware of the storm that fate was preparing to hurl her into. Rosa had given her a beautiful blue dress for the college orientation, and Miguel had fixed up the bicycle she'd be using for her commute. She didn’t know the name Kael. She’d never heard of Smith. But she’d been dreaming—of golden eyes, of trees whispering her name, and a pain so old, it pulsed like a wound.

Her world was about to change.

But for now, she tucked her dream deep into her chest and went to sleep under the same moon that watched over Kael.

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