CHAPTER FIVE
1135 Words
Liora had never been summoned before.
Not like this.
When the message reached her—quietly delivered by a warrior who would not meet her eyes—her first instinct was fear. Her second was shame. Those two feelings had followed her so faithfully over the years that she no longer questioned their presence.
“The Alpha from Ashen Ridge requests to speak with you,” the warrior said stiffly. “Privately.”
Privately.
That word echoed as Liora followed him across the clearing, her steps slow, her heartbeat loud enough she was certain others could hear it. Eyes tracked her movement. Whispers followed like shadows.
She kept her gaze down.
Kael waited near the edge of the forest, far enough from the pack house to avoid an audience, close enough to avoid insult. He stood with his arms relaxed at his sides, posture controlled, presence steady.
Not threatening.
Not gentle either.
Just… contained.
When Liora stopped a few paces away, unsure how close was acceptable, he turned fully toward her.
And for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Kael studied her openly now, without the distance of a crowd or the tension of elders watching his every move. Up close, she looked even younger than he’d thought—not in age, but in the way people looked when they had learned to expect very little from the world.
Her shoulders were drawn inward. Her hands were clenched tightly in front of her, knuckles pale.
She was bracing for something.
Kael felt the echo in his chest stir—not violently this time, but with a low, steady ache.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said at last.
Liora flinched.
“I’m not,” she replied quickly.
It was reflex. Automatic. A shield she had learned to raise before others could decide she was weak.
Kael didn’t call her out on it.
Instead, he nodded once. “Then we’ll speak as equals.”
Her eyes flicked up to his, startled.
“Do you know why I asked to see you?” he asked.
She swallowed. “No, Alpha.”
Kael noticed the way she used the title like armor—formal, distant. He allowed it.
“Two nights ago,” he said carefully, “something reached across territory lines. Something strong enough to disrupt my pack.”
Liora’s breath caught.
“I need to know,” Kael continued, “if you felt anything unusual that night.”
The forest held its breath.
Liora stared at the ground, her thoughts racing. She remembered Elder Moru’s eyes. Mira’s words. The way fear had turned sharp the moment others sensed she was different.
If she told the truth—
They would blame her.
They always did.
“I felt sick,” she said quietly. “I collapsed in the forest. That’s all.”
Kael watched her closely.
She wasn’t lying.
Not fully.
But she wasn’t telling him the truth either.
“Look at me,” he said gently.
The softness in his voice surprised them both.
Liora hesitated—then raised her head.
Their eyes met again, and the pull tightened instantly, like a thread drawn too close to snapping.
Kael inhaled slowly.
“Whatever happened to you,” he said, “you didn’t choose it.”
Her chest burned.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
“I believe you,” Kael said.
That broke something.
Liora’s breath shook. She turned her face away quickly, blinking hard. No one ever believed her. Not without conditions. Not without suspicion.
“Why are you really here?” she asked, voice barely steady.
Kael didn’t answer immediately.
Because the truth was complicated.
Because admitting that he had followed a feeling—a connection he didn’t believe in—would give her power he wasn’t ready to hand over.
“I’m here,” he said instead, “because something in this territory is being mishandled.”
Liora laughed softly, bitterly. “That’s one way to say it.”
Kael glanced at her sharply. “You don’t speak like someone who feels protected.”
She shrugged. “Protection is earned.”
Kael frowned. “That’s not how packs are meant to work.”
“That’s how this one does,” she replied.
Silence fell again.
This time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was heavy.
Kael took a step back, giving her space. “I won’t force answers from you,” he said. “But I will be staying.”
Her eyes widened. “Staying?”
“As a guest,” he clarified. “Under observation. And yes—observation goes both ways.”
She understood instantly.
He would be watching the pack.
Watching the elders.
Watching how they treated her.
Fear coiled in her stomach. “That will make things worse.”
“For you?” Kael asked.
“For me,” she said honestly. “They don’t like attention. Especially not the kind that asks questions.”
Kael’s jaw tightened.
“Then they should have behaved better,” he said quietly.
Word spread fast.
By nightfall, Blackridge was restless.
Elder Moru summoned Kael to the council fire, his expression tight with barely concealed irritation.
“You overstep,” Moru said once they were seated. “Speaking to her alone.”
“She is not property,” Kael replied evenly.
“She is a problem,” Moru snapped. “One we have managed for years.”
“By isolating her?” Kael asked. “By treating her like a stain?”
Moru’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know her history.”
“Then tell me,” Kael said.
Moru hesitated.
Just long enough.
“That girl arrived with blood on her hands,” Moru said. “The night she was found, two of our border guards were killed by rogues. We believe she was involved.”
Kael’s gaze hardened. “She was five.”
“Children can be weapons,” Moru said coldly.
Kael stood abruptly. “Or scapegoats.”
The fire crackled between them.
“If anything happens to her,” Kael said quietly, “I will hold this pack accountable.”
Moru rose as well. “You threaten us?”
“I warn you,” Kael replied. “There is a difference.”
Liora lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling.
The pack felt different.
Tighter.
Sharper.
She knew eyes were on her even now.
And worse—
She could feel him.
Not his presence exactly. His awareness. Like a steady warmth at the edge of her thoughts.
She pressed her hand to her chest, confused and afraid.
“Why you?” she whispered into the dark.
Miles away in the guest chamber, Kael asked himself the same question.
And for the first time since he’d become Alpha, he didn’t know the answer.
- Writer
