Seris’s Rejection

Chapter3

The presence of the three wolves at the lake had sealed the fate of the Nighthorn Pack.

Two days before the attack had begun like any other day within the pack.

Seris returned from training bone-tired and bruised. Caspian had shown her no mercy. Every strike felt deliberate, calculated—too close to lethal for comfort. Though he ranked lower than her, he handled her like a rag doll, his strength overwhelming, his movements ruthless. More than once, she had the terrifying sense that he was only seconds away from going for the kill.

The purpose of the training had been clear: teach her how to force another wolf into submission as a Beta should. And she had failed—poorly. If this had been a real fight, she would already be dead.

She stumbled into the bathroom and froze when she saw her reflection.

The woman staring back at her looked nothing like herself. Her short, curly black hair was tangled and matted. Her emerald-green eyes—once sharp and commanding—were dull, like a rainy day deep within Nighthorn Forest. Her nose sat crooked on her face, already swelling.

“Damn it,” she muttered.

Caspian had nearly ended her—but she knew he had been teaching her a lesson. In the real world, mercy did not exist. For that, she supposed she owed him her life.

She ran a hot bath and sank into it, letting the water ease her knotted muscles and aching bones. Nearly an hour passed before she finally emerged. When she looked in the mirror again, she barely recognized the damage Caspian had wrecked . Thanks to her werewolf healing and her youth, the damage had already begun to fade.

She was twenty-two. A Beta. A leader. A defender of the pack.

Young, yes—but she had been raised to endure pain. To be bruised. To stand.

As sleep crept in, her thoughts drifted to the newly turned pups. Something about it unsettled her. Only a week earlier, several wolves had shifted for the first time—too many, and too young. Wolves were meant to turn on their eighteenth birthday. Yet this year, she had witnessed seventeen-year-olds—and even a few sixteen-year-olds—change.

She pushed the thought away.

New wolves meant training. Training meant more soldiers. And strength was exactly what the pack needed—for her, and for Kael, the soon-to-be Alpha.

Sleep had barely claimed her when the summons came.

The pack link flared sharply in her mind, insistent and unmistakable.

Alpha Aeden.

Old. Frail. And stubborn beyond reason.

She considered ignoring the call—her body screamed for rest—but Aeden did not summon without cause, and he never accepted refusal.

With a sigh, she rose and dressed. She glanced toward the wall clock, then deliberately looked away. Knowing the hour would only irritate her, and she refused to arrive in a sour mood.

She shifted.

Her wolf surged forward, larger than it had once been—stronger since her coronation as Beta. A brief flicker of sadness passed through her before instinct took control. The wolf ran, guided by the pull of the bond. This was the Beta’s nature. The land itself would lead her.

She arrived within twenty minutes.

Alpha Aeden stood waiting in a forest clearing, his staff planted firmly in the earth. Once a towering giant, age had bent his frame, though his presence remained undeniable. His hair, still thick thanks to werewolf blood, had turned white at the temples. His ocean-blue eyes shone bright and sharp, proof that his mind remained intact and far from senile—despite the midnight summons.

Beside him stood Kael, his son.

The future Alpha.

Seris shifted back behind a tree, the bark cold against her spine as she pulled on her clothes. Her thoughts wandered—briefly, dangerously—to Alpha Aeden.

Why hadn’t he stepped down yet? Why cling to power when Kael was ready?

She shut the thought down immediately.

Questions like that were not why she stood in this clearing at such an ungodly hour. And the sooner this meeting ended, the sooner she could return to her warm sheets. The thought of her bed sent a sharp shiver through her. She finished dressing quickly and stepped forward.

“Good morning, Seris,” Aeden greeted.

Morning?

She resisted the urge to glance at the sky. If dawn was near, she might actually scream.

She inclined her head respectfully. “Alpha.”

“This meeting,” Aeden began, his voice steady, “marks the beginning of many nights like this for you both. Matters of the pack are not discussed behind walls with ears. This is how it has always been done.”

He gestured between her and Kael.

“I want to establish this pattern before Kael’s coronation. It will take place in a few weeks—once his mother and the council agree on a date.” His gaze returned to Seris. “You are an honorary member of that council as Beta. Your presence will be required.”

Oh, Goddess. Why me?

She remembered her father coming home from council meetings—head pounding, patience shredded, muttering about how impossible it was to reason with seasoned wolves who thought they knew everything. She swallowed, already bracing herself for future headaches.

“After Kael’s coronation,” Aeden continued, “you may choose to appoint a new council. But I advise against haste. These elders are well-seasoned in their roles. They served me—and your father—faithfully.”

Seris wondered if he had somehow heard her thoughts.

Then his expression hardened.

“I have received reports of young wolves running freely through my forest,” he said. “That alone tells me unsettling times are ahead. I assume, as acting Beta and soon-to-be Alpha, you already have a plan.”

His gaze flicked between them.

They did.

Kael straightened. “We’ve noticed the same. Our plan involves using the newly turned wolves for border patrol and security.”

Silence fell.

Aeden’s brow lifted slowly. “Untrained pups?”

That… had gone very wrong, very fast.

“We intended to train them,” Kael said.

“When?” Aeden asked calmly. “After they’re dead?”

Seris winced.

“They would learn on the job,” Kael added.

Aeden scoffed.

Seris stepped in quickly. “A wolf can defend themselves when danger arises. Those youths are smart enough not to get themselves killed.”

Aeden looked at her then—unimpressed, and worse, disappointed.

“I’ll be very clear,” he said. “That is a terrible idea.” His staff pressed harder into the earth. “And this is precisely why you need a council. Had Fabian been present”—he referred to the defense specialist—“he would have told you that condemning the next generation to die is not strategy.”

Seris inhaled. “We considered that,” she said. “But we needed something efficient. Tighten the borders. Increase scouts. With tensions rising, vigilance isn’t optional.”

Aeden raised a brow, waiting.

They explained how the growing number of newly turned wolves could serve as scouts, while seasoned wolves remained soldiers.

“No,” Aeden said at once.

His voice was firm. Unyielding.

“They are untrained. Instinct alone will not save them. Without combat training, they won’t escape intruders. Speed means nothing without tactics.” He paused. “Scouts are always the first to fall.”

Seris thought of chess.

Pawns always died first.

An image flashed unbidden—teenage wolves sprawled across a blood-soaked battlefield. Her stomach twisted, and she shivered without realizing it.

Kael argued back. “The early shifts are a sign of war. Something is coming fast. The pack is already preparing—biologically. Our hands are tied.”

“Instincts are sharp,” Seris added softly. “Their youth makes them adaptable. They could flee if danger arose.”

Aeden did not bend.

“The pack must be protected,” he said. “But not at the cost of its future.”

Then he offered a compromise.

“Withdraw some mature wolves from the borders,” Aeden said. “Have them train the pups—properly. Yes, our defenses will weaken temporarily. But once the young ones receive basic combat training, they may serve. Slower. Smarter.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like it.

But it was an order.

“As you wish, Alpha,” he said at last.

The meeting ended in uneasy agreement.

None of them knew that fate had already begun to move.