The Alpha Who Broke Our Bond

Chapter 5 – The Alpha’s House

Crosswind territory smelled different.

The trees were the same old pines and firs, but the under-notes had shifted—more smoke from the forges, more leather, less wild mint, more cold river stone. Pack life hummed under the sound of our boots: distant training calls, the ring of steel, a pup’s shriek of laughter quickly hushed.

The alpha’s house rose above the clustered buildings like it had pushed itself out of the rock by sheer stubbornness. Dark timber and stone, wide terraces, big enough to house half a dozen wolves comfortably and still pretend it wasn’t watching the whole valley.

“Still overcompensating, I see,” I muttered.

Gravik snorted. “You say that like you didn’t once help him design the east balcony.”

A splinter of something sharp twisted under my ribs. “I don’t remember that.”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s the problem.”

He led me up the broad front steps, Orlen peeling away with a last nod. The heavy front door swung open before we reached it.

A young woman leaned in the doorway, shoulder braced against the frame, arms folded. She wore leather trousers, a loose shirt, and the smug, lazy expression of someone who enjoyed poking wounded things with sticks just to see what happened.

“Look what the council dragged in,” Ivara Crosswind drawled. “Thought you’d be taller.”

“I thought you’d be quieter,” I said. “We’re both disappointed.”

Her grin flashed, sharp and delighted. “Oh, I remember this. You insulted me the first time we met, too.”

“I’m consistent,” I said. “You’re welcome.”

Gravik shoved past her with my bag. “Move. Some of us have actual work.”

“Some of us are watching the entertainment,” she shot back, then winked at me. “Come on, Vex. Let me show you your new stage.”

Inside, the house was… annoyingly beautiful.

Wide hall, worn wooden floors, walls hung with simple tapestries—hunting scenes, rivers, not a single self-important portrait. On the left, an archway opened into a big common room with a fireplace big enough to roast a bear in. On the right, a corridor led deeper, smells of ink and paper hinting at an office or war-room.

“Downstairs is common space,” Ivara narrated, waving a hand. “Kitchen, dining hall, arguing chamber, you’ll see. Upstairs, private rooms. Some of them, anyway.”

I caught the faintest trace of him in the air—pine, steel, the particular warmth of his skin. My pulse stuttered, then steadied through sheer spite.

“And where is the great alpha?” I asked. “Busy planning my welcome parade?”

“Busy,” Gravik said. “Period.”

“That means he hasn’t slept in two nights,” Ivara translated. “And he’s going to pretend he’s fine until he falls over in public and embarrasses me personally.”

She bounded up the stairs two at a time. I followed more slowly, fingers grazing the banister. The grain of the wood under my palm kicked up a flash—my hand, younger, trailing there with laughter in my throat, a low voice behind me saying careful, little wolf—

I ripped my hand back.

“Headache?” Ivara asked lightly, glancing over her shoulder.

“Your voice,” I said. “Pierces the skull.”

“Good,” she said. “Keeps you awake.”

The upstairs corridor had three doors on the left, three on the right, one at the far end. I didn’t need anyone to tell me which was his; my wolf pressed hard toward that end door like a compass needle.

Ivara stopped by the second door on the right and swung it open.

“Here,” she said. “Your room.”

It was… bigger than mine at home, smaller than some guest suites I’d seen. A bed against the far wall, a wardrobe, a small table by the window, a braided rug. No frills. No flowers. Clean, quiet, impersonal.

The window overlooked the training yard.

Of course it did.

“Convenient,” I said. “So if I get bored, I can critique his footwork.”

Gravik set my bag just inside the door. “Meals are at dawn, midday, and when we remember. Don’t wander the woods alone until patrol patterns are updated. Don’t go into the cellar without someone from the house. Don’t touch anything in the war-room without asking.”

I arched a brow. “That list just for me?”

“That list is for anyone we like,” he said. “You get a longer one, but I’ll let Aren deliver it. He’s better at rules.”

“Thrilling,” I said.

Ivara leaned against the doorframe, studying me. “You look like you’re waiting for something.”

“My cage,” I said. “Might as well see the bars.”

“Right,” she said. “Well. Bar number one: he insisted your room be across from his.”

My gaze flicked instinctively to the door opposite mine. Closed. The air around it tasted like old storms.

“Of course he did,” I said lightly. “Wouldn’t want to miss any midnight screaming.”

Ivara’s smile thinned. “You’re not the only one who wakes up like that,” she said quietly.

Something in my chest stuttered.

Gravik cleared his throat. “You’ve got an hour to settle in. Then breakfast. Then… logistics.”

“Logistics,” I repeated. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Call it whatever you like,” he said. “Just be at the table when the alpha is.”

They left me alone.

I stood in the center of the unfamiliar room that was supposed to become mine for a year, pulse loud in my ears, the weight of the house pressing down.

Across the hall, behind wood and silence, my not-mate moved like a shadow I couldn’t see.

I set my bag down and exhaled.

“Fine,” I told the walls. “Let’s see who breaks first.”