Chapter 6: Who are you
951 Words
Kieran’s POV —
Driving into the pack compound, Ragnar practically vibrates beneath my skin.
Now this is what you call a pack, he growls in approval.
I step out of the SUV just as the first wave of trucks rolls in—each one packed with newly recruited wolves from across the territory. My army is complete. The next phase of the war can finally begin.
As I make my way toward the packhouse, my steps falter outside her door.
“Just a peep,” Ragnar begs.
My wolf, begging. That’s new. And deeply unsettling.
I push the door open and step inside quietly, settling onto the couch across from the bed before I realize I’ve even made the decision. She’s curled up in the sheets, breathing softly.
Feelings I thought I'd buried begin to rise like bile in my throat.
Not now. Not again.
“But she’s different,” Ragnar murmurs. What the hell is happening to him?
I’m about to leave—this is a mistake—when she suddenly bolts upright, falling to her knees, head bowed low. No one told her I was here. She sensed it.
Everything in me screams to leave before she realizes I’ve been watching, but I stay—frozen. Fascinated.
She glances back, fingers brushing the sweats I laid out for her. Her eyes lift to mine—and I forget to breathe.
“You move like a whipped dog,” I blurt, voice cold. “Is that what you are?”
A flicker of pain flashes across her face, and she flinches. I clamp down on my emotions. Show nothing. Feel nothing.
“N-no,” she stammers, and Ragnar lets out a low, aching sound. “I... I’m Zoey.”
“That’s a name. Not an answer.”
“I’m the pack omega,” she says, fists clenched.
Not exactly omega behavior.
“You were born of Alpha blood... yet you crawl like you’re nothing,” I mutter, stepping closer. Her silver hair is tangled, dull. Her body frail. Hollow blue eyes meet mine with a spark of something that doesn’t belong in someone this broken.
Could this husk of a girl really be the one?
Wouldn’t be the first time the Moon Goddess got it wrong.
“She’s the one,” Ragnar whispers, certain.
That’s a problem for later. For now, I need distance. Still, I find myself drawn to her, stepping closer. She doesn’t lift her eyes, doesn’t notice the confusion twisting my features.
“You reek of fear,” I murmur, almost amused. “But not weakness. What are you hiding?”
“I don’t—” she starts, but her voice breaks.
My hand moves before I can stop it, brushing her cheek. Her skin is warm. Too warm.
I jerk away as if burned and turn sharply. Control. I need control.
“Get up,” I command. “You’re not a prisoner. But you are mine now.”
“Yours?” she whispers.
“You were part of the enemy,” I say. “Now you’re under my rule. That makes you mine. To use. Or destroy.”
I walk out before she can answer. Space. I just need space.
But then I hear her footsteps behind me.
She’s following.
I keep walking, ignoring the strange warmth blooming in my chest. But then come the whispers:
“The broken omega.”
“She’s the Alpha’s pet now?”
“Should’ve died with her pack.”
My jaw clenches. My hands curl into fists. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care.
“They think you’re weak,” I say without turning. My eyes glow, voice low and sharp. “You going to prove them right?”
No reply. Just a sudden, blistering energy behind me.
I turn.
She’s trembling. Screaming.
Her knees hit the ground, and soldiers rush to intercept.
“What’s happening?” I bark, grabbing her arm. “Zoey!”
She shakes violently, breath hitching.
“I—I don’t know,” she gasps. “It’s never happened before—”
Liar.
“I saw it happen. Back at Arrow Heart. You’re lying!” I roar.
“I’m not!”
“You’re hiding something,” I hiss, gripping her by the chin, forcing her to look at me. “And I’ll rip it out of you if I have to.”
Then—
A howl splits the air.
Every head turns.
Another follows. Closer. Angrier.
Rogues.
“Something is coming. And it’s coming for you,” I whisper, “who are you?”
My instincts ignite. I release her and turn to my warriors.
“Form up! Defend the compound!”
Ragnar explodes forward, shifting us into battle form. I let him take over—ripping through rogue after rogue with savage precision. Blood. Bone. Fury. For five minutes, all I see is red.
When the last body hits the ground, I shift back, breathing hard.
And then a voice slithers into my ear.
“Kieran.”
My blood chills.
I turn toward the woods.
She stands there. Smiling. Mocking.
“Aubrey.”
The name tastes like venom on my tongue.
“I killed you.”
“Clearly not hard enough,” she smirks, twirling her brown hair. “Miss me?”
“Why are you here?”
“To watch the show,” she says with a laugh. “And maybe... steal the ending.”
“This show ends with your army in flames.”
“Don’t be so sure, KieKie,” she taunts, her old nickname like acid in my ears. “With war... anything is possible.”
And then she’s gone, her words echoing louder than the aftermath of battle.
Anything is possible.
- Writer
