The Wolf Girl with Two Alpha Mates

Chapter 2 – Paper Walls

By the time the sun clawed its way over the river, the blood was gone.

Pressure washers had scoured the concrete. City crews in orange vests had hauled away the ruined fence panel. To human eyes, the lot looked like any other tired stretch of industrial riverfront.

To Lupa, standing in Alder’s office with damp hair and yesterday’s clothes, it still smelled like fear.

Mirel clicked through photos on the wall screen. Under harsh digital light the wounds looked even worse. Kess lounged in a chair with a mug of coffee, pretending not to stare at Lupa’s tight jaw.

“Victim’s ID came through,” Mirel said. “Daniel Urich. Human. Night shift guard at the warehouse across the street. No criminal record. No known wolf ties.”

“So why here?” Kess asked. “Why now?”

“Because the thing that did it likes our side of the river,” Jorin grunted from his post by the wall. He’d come straight from the training yard; sweat still clung to his neck. “And because it’s getting braver.”

Alder, behind his desk, said nothing. He watched the screen, hands steepled, expression carved from something colder than stone.

Lupa crossed her arms, fingertips pressing into the bruises that brewed beneath her ribs from crouching too long on wet concrete. “Humans will notice,” she said. “We can’t scrub every crime scene this clean. Not if they keep coming this close.”

“We talked to the warehouse manager,” Mirel said. “Our ‘security company’ is offering additional patrols for a discount. He’s thrilled. He didn’t ask why the cops were so fast to hand the body over or why we were allowed past the tape.”

Lupa snorted. “Paper and smiles.”

“Paper and smiles keep our people out of human jails,” Kess pointed out.

Lupa didn’t argue. Couldn’t. The truth sat sour on her tongue.

Alder finally lifted his gaze from the photos to her. “You caught anything new?” he asked. Not alpha‑to‑beta. Just quietly, like he was asking if her ribs still hurt.

She knew what he meant: the echoes. The way her strange, unwanted sense sometimes snagged on the emotional residue of a scene and wouldn’t let go.

She shook her head. “Whatever was there faded. I’ve just got a headache now.”

He studied her a heartbeat too long. “Lupa.”

“I’m not hiding anything.” The lie tasted almost as bad as last night’s. She looked away. “If it comes back, you’ll be the first to know.”

The room’s air shifted, heavier. Mirel glanced between them, sharp eyes narrowing. Jorin’s brows pulled down, but he stayed wisely silent.

“Right now,” Alder said, voice smoothing over the tension, “we focus on what we can control. Mirel?”

She tapped to a map. Three red pins flared along the river and forest edge. “Three confirmed kills in two weeks, plus one survivor. All near border zones. Human and wolf victims both. Whatever this is, it’s not hunting by scent alone. It’s following… patterns.”

“Territory markers?” Jorin suggested.

“Old rifts,” Lupa said, before she could stop herself.

They all looked at her.

She swallowed. “The first body was near the old sawmill. That’s where Riverside and Everwood nearly tore each other apart over hunting rights ten years ago.”

Mirel frowned, pulling up records. “The second was near the decommissioned bridge. Northbridge dispute site. Third…” She grimaced. “Old rogue incursion.”

“So it’s following our worst memories?” Kess asked. “Great. We’re being haunted by a very large, very bitey therapist.”

“Enough,” Alder said mildly, but his fingers flexed once on the desk. “We’ll map historic conflict points and adjust patrols accordingly. Mixed teams where possible.”

“Mixed teams,” Jorin echoed. “Everwood isn’t going to love that.”

“They don’t have to love it,” Alder said. “They just have to show up.”

The mention of the forest pack sent a cold shiver down Lupa’s spine. Before she could shove the thought away, Mirel’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen, then lifted her head, face gone carefully blank.

“The elders answered your request,” she told Alder. “Everwood is sending a security delegation to cooperate on the investigation.”

Kess let out a low whistle. “Forest royalty, coming to our muddy little river. Must be serious.”

Lupa’s pulse tripped, then pounded. Her wolf pressed hard against her ribs, restless.

“Who’s leading?” Alder asked, though Lupa knew he already suspected. She could hear it in the tension sliding back into his shoulders.

Mirel’s eyes flicked to Lupa, just for a second.

“Alpha Erynd Varro,” she said.

The name hit like a fist under Lupa’s breastbone. For a heartbeat, the office flickered — not with fluorescent light, but with memory: green canopy, the sharp scent of pine and cold earth, a hand closing around hers as a younger, softer voice promised, I would never choose anything over you.

He had.

Her vision snapped back into focus. Alder was watching her again, unreadable. Jorin looked suddenly fascinated by a spot on the wall. Kess mouthed, s**t behind her mug.

Lupa exhaled slowly, controlling the shake in it.

“When?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” Mirel said. “They’ll cross into the city at dusk.”

Something in Lupa, deep and scarred, flinched. The echoes of last night’s terror brushed along her nerves, tangled now with the ghost of an old bond she’d thought she’d buried.

Not dead. Just waiting.

“Then we’d better be ready,” she said, and pretended her voice didn’t crack on the last word.