Chapter 4: The Alpha Everyone Trusted
1305 Words
My chest still hurt when I stepped back into the lodge—like something sharp had been lodged under my ribs and left there on purpose.
I kept my face calm anyway.
That was my specialty. Smiling with my eyes while my insides screamed.
The hallway was packed with bodies and perfume and excitement. Wolves brushed shoulders, laughing too loud. Someone bumped me and didn’t apologize. A couple walked past holding hands like the world had never been cruel to them.
I moved through it like a ghost.
But I could still feel him.
Alpha Rowan.
Not behind me now—somewhere ahead. Somewhere close enough that the air felt tighter.
My arm tingled where his hand had grabbed me in the woods. Not painful. Worse. Like my skin remembered it.
I ducked into the kitchen to breathe.
The noise hit me all over again—pots, voices, and orders being shouted. I grabbed a stack of napkins and started folding like my life depended on perfect corners.
“Hey,” Logan said from the sink, glancing over. “You okay?”
I forced a shrug. “Fine.”
He frowned. “You don’t look fine.”
I almost laughed. When did anyone care what I looked like? The pack had trained itself not to notice me unless I spilled something or embarrassed the group.
“I’m just tired,” I said.
Logan wiped his hands on a towel, lowering his voice. “You shouldn’t have gone into the woods.”
Ice prickled the back of my neck. “How do you—”
“Everyone saw you leave,” he said, flatly. “And everyone saw the Alpha follow.”
My fingers froze on the napkin.
The kitchen noise continued like normal around us, but suddenly I felt like I was standing under a spotlight.
I swallowed. “He didn’t follow me.”
Logan’s mouth tightened. “Elara… Alpha Rowan doesn’t follow people unless he has a reason.”
Before I could answer, the room shifted. A subtle change—like a wave passing through everyone’s bodies. Spines straightened. Voices lowered half a notch.
The Alpha had entered the lodge.
I felt it even in the kitchen. Like gravity had leaned in.
Someone whispered, “He’s here.”
Another voice replied softly, “Of course he’s here.”
I stared at the napkin in my hands, but my heartbeat was loud enough to drown the world. My wolf—my silent wolf—wasn’t silent anymore. Not fully. It paced inside me, restless, like it had been starved and just smelled meat.
I hated it.
Not because it felt wrong.
Because it felt right.
Aunty Mara—head cook, thick arms, sharp eyes—barked, “Elara! Take these trays out. Now.”
She shoved a tray of cups into my hands. I nodded and moved.
I walked out of the kitchen and into the main hall.
The lights were dim and warm, strings of lanterns overhead. People stood in clusters, talking, laughing, and checking their outfits. On the far side, the ceremonial firepit waited—unlit for now, but decorated with white flowers and silver ribbons.
And near the center of everything, Alpha Rowan stood like he’d been built into the room.
Black shirt. Dark hair. Calm face.
His expression was controlled, but the pack’s attention clung to him like a prayer.
He spoke to Elder Grant—an older man with a thick gray beard—and two other elders. They nodded as if Rowan’s words were law even when he spoke quietly.
The Alpha everyone trusted.
That was what they called him.
Not because he was kind.
Because he was steady. Reliable. Strong.
Because he’d fought off a rival pack three winters ago and kept this territory safe. Because he didn’t drink too much, didn’t chase women recklessly, and didn’t embarrass the pack in public.
Rowan Thorn was the kind of Alpha people built their peace on.
And peace, I had learned, was expensive.
Someone bumped my shoulder. I caught the tray before it tipped.
“Watch it,” Sierra’s voice purred.
I stiffened.
She stood beside me in a pale dress that made her look like the kind of girl a photographer would choose for a wedding ad. Her hair was perfect, her smile bright.
Her eyes were not.
She followed my gaze toward Rowan and laughed softly. “Don’t.”
I looked at her. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at him like that,” she said, still smiling. “People will think you’re delusional.”
My throat tightened. “I wasn’t—”
Sierra leaned closer. “I’m doing you a favor, Elara. Rowan needs a Luna who makes the pack proud. Not… a project.”
Her words were syrup-sweet, but they hit like stones.
I tried to step past her. She blocked me with a gentle hand on the tray.
“Relax,” she whispered. “You’re safe as long as you remember your place.”
My fingers tightened until my knuckles whitened. I forced my voice to stay calm. “Move.”
Sierra’s smile sharpened. “Or what? You’ll shift?”
I felt the sting deep in my chest.
My wolf growled, low and angry.
Not out loud.
Inside.
Sierra’s eyes flicked to my throat like she’d sensed something.
For a second, she looked… unsure.
Then she recovered fast, her laugh rising again. “See? Cute. You almost sounded brave.”
She stepped away, letting me pass. “Enjoy the festival, Elara. Or don’t. It’s not like anyone’s saving you a dance.”
I walked away before my face cracked.
But as I moved through the hall, I felt Rowan’s gaze again.
It wasn’t a casual glance.
It was focused.
Like he was tracking the exact second my composure might break.
I looked up.
Rowan was staring at me.
No expression. No smile.
Just those eyes—dark and steady—like he was measuring the distance between us and deciding what it meant.
I froze mid-step.
Elder Grant noticed. His gaze followed Rowan’s. Then it landed on me.
The elder’s brow creased, not in anger.
In concern.
That scared me more than any insult.
Rowan said something low to the elders, then turned and walked toward me.
The crowd parted instinctively.
He didn’t hurry.
That made it worse.
He stopped a few feet away. Close enough that the air between us felt thick.
I forced my voice out. “Alpha.”
Rowan’s eyes flicked over my face. “Elara.”
Hearing my name in his mouth made my heart stutter.
“You shouldn’t have been out there,” he said.
I held his gaze. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”
A pause.
Not a dramatic pause.
A dangerous one.
Rowan’s jaw tightened, like my words had hit a nerve he didn’t want touched.
“Do you know what’s in those woods?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I admitted. “But I know what’s in this pack.”
His eyes darkened. “Careful.”
I lifted my chin. “I’m always careful. It hasn’t helped.”
Rowan stared at me for a long moment. Then his voice dropped, rougher. “Stay near the lodge tonight.”
I almost laughed. “Why? So I can be humiliated in public instead of private?”
His eyes flickered—something sharp, something like guilt.
Before he could answer, Elder Grant called, “Rowan.”
Rowan didn’t look away from me. “Stay close,” he repeated, softer this time.
Then he turned and walked back toward the elders.
I stood there, tray shaking slightly, my pulse pounding.
Because he hadn’t said it like an order.
He’d said it like a warning.
Like he knew something was coming.
And like it had my name on it.
- Writer
