Chapter 2 Alpha Ryan Carson
1355 Words
Ryan Pov~
The car rolled to a stop before the Wolfsburg estate.
The silence inside the vehicle felt heavier than the smoke I’d been holding in my lungs. My driver glanced at me through the rear view mirror, waiting for me to give the word, but I stayed still, watching the iron gates open with a shriek that echoed through the air.
The Wolfsburgs had tried to polish their estate for my arrival, I could tell. The painting looked fresh, they had lined up guards and the servants bowed low as if they were worshiping the ground I’d walk on. It all smelled like desperation.
I didn’t come here for beauty or manners. I came because my father’s company was bleeding from bad press and the Council was whispering.
Someone had to put a clean face on our family’s name and marriage was supposed to be the cure, find a wife, stage the perfect union, keep the stocks from dropping.
I wasn't going in for love, it was damage control.
Katerina had made her list for me, the girl had to be charming, proper, useful to our image, and I was expected to smile, choose, and pretend she hadn’t been the reason I’d stopped believing in affection in the first place.
The butler opened my door. I stepped out into the damp air. “Alpha Ryan Carson,” someone announced, as though the world didn’t already know.
The Wolfsburg Alpha, Edward, strode forward. Smiling with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His grin looked like ambition and rot. His daughters stood behind him like a line of porcelain dolls painted, postured and pretending.
“Mabel, my first,” he said proudly, gesturing to the tall, golden-haired one who smiled as though she’d already won. “Zoey, my second, and Molly, our star.”
They all dipped their heads in perfect synchronization.
I nodded, scanning them the way a person might examine furniture before purchasing. Mabel had the kind of beauty that knew it was beautiful. Her elegance was trained, and she had a smile that had practiced in mirrors.
Zoey’s nervous hands betrayed her, clutching her skirt. Molly met my gaze too quickly with confidence that reeked of hunger.
None of them moved me.
They were what I expected– predictable.
Dinner was immediately arranged in their gilded hall.
During the dinner, I noticed more of a few things. Edward talked too much, his wife Flora laughed too hard, they thought they were charming me, but had no idea I’d long grown immune to flattery.
“So, Alpha Ryan,” Flora cooed, “our Molly is quite the success in the human world. She’s an actress, you may have seen her work.”
Molly smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “It’s an honor to meet you, Alpha. I’ve always admired the Silver Pack’s…”
I lifted my hand slightly, cutting her off. “I don’t watch films.”
Silence fell.
Mabel tried to recover it with laughter. “He’s teasing, surely—”
“I’m not.” I reached for my wine, uninterested in easing their discomfort.
Katerina’s voice replayed in my head from the night before: Choose one quickly, we can’t afford another headline.
She wanted Molly, she had even said the girl would be “a perfect addition to the women’s circle.” Which meant another puppet she could control which also meant she’d already lost my interest.
Halfway through dinner, I excused myself telling Edward I needed air. He looked almost relieved, probably mistaking my boredom for humility.
Outside, the night pressed close, the moon was half-full, for a moment, I let myself breathe.
My wolf stirred restlessly under my skin. He didn’t like this place, something about it felt… suffocating.
I lit a cigarette, watching the smoke twist through the dark.
That was when I heard it, a faint sound, soft and broken, like a whimper.
I followed it around the hedges to a small clearing, half-lit by the moon and by a dim light.
And there she was.
A girl kneeling in the grass, her hair falling loose around her shoulders as she cradled a small, trembling dog. She didn’t see me at first; she was too busy whispering to it, though no sound came.
I froze.
There was something painfully familiar about her that my mind flickered back to a night five years ago: the girl who smelled like rain, who had looked at me as though she could see every part of me and still not flinch.
My mate who had vanished before I woke.
According to what they said, she had been burned in a raid on a rogue camp, but standing there, I couldn’t breathe because this girl felt like her.
When the dog noticed me and whimpered louder, she startled, turning quickly, her eyes met mine and widened in fear.
She scrambled to her feet, bowing her head low in that submissive way omegas were trained to.
I took a step forward. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
She said nothing.
I frowned. “Did you hear me?”
She only gave a small nod. The realization hit me slowly, she was mute.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
She reached for the ground and traced letters into the dirt: E-L-S-A.
Elsa.
I said it under my breath, and something inside me shifted.
“What are you doing here, Elsa?”
She hesitated, then gestured to the dog, its paw wrapped in a torn ribbon then she pointed to a thorn bush nearby. Her eyes lifted to mine again, cautiously like she was ready to be scolded.
“You’re caring for it,” I murmured. “At this hour.”
She nodded.
There was no greed in her, just quiet compassion. It was disarming.
I crouched beside her, watching her stroke the dog’s fur. “You’re not like the others.”
“She stared at me confused.”
“Your sisters,” I said. “The ones inside pretending to impress me.” Her father had no idea I knew he had four daughters and knew how he treated them all.
She froze at the word sisters.
“I’m not supposed to be seen,” she wrote shakily on the soil.
“Why?”
She erased the words but made no move to respond. I didn’t press her.
She was close enough that I could see the faint scars along her wrists, the thinness of her frame and notice that she didn’t smell like perfume or wealth but like soap and pine.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked.
She nodded.
“And you’re not afraid?”
She looked down and smiled shyly.
It made me laugh, surprising myself. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.”
The dog barked as if in agreement. She smiled properly then, and it was light. For a moment, I saw something I hadn’t in years.
Real warmth.
I stood, brushing the dirt from my hands. “You should go back before someone notices.”
She nodded, gently lifting the dog in her arms.
I didn’t move. I watched her walk away barefoot but carefully, her hair swayed, and she paused once at the edge of the path and looked back, and then she was gone.
I stayed there long after until the cigarette burnt down to ash, trying to shake her from my mind on the drive back home. My assistant talked about reports, events and publicity plans, but I barely heard him.
She wasn’t the type I should want. She wasn’t powerful, useful, or even what the pack would accept, but there was something about her that pulled at a part of me I thought I’d buried with my mother’s death.
The part that still wanted softness.
That night, as I undressed in silence, her face kept returning in flashes, the curve of her hands, the gentleness in her eyes, her silent courage.
When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of the girls from my past and woke up with her name on my lips.
Elsa.
- Writer
