Alpha of Her Ruin

When Fire Commands

Chapter Thirty-Three

The day dawned gray and brittle. Frost clung to the branches, shattering in tiny shards whenever the wind passed through. Aisla sat by the dying embers of the fire, her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She had not slept again after the dream. Every time she closed her eyes, the word returned.

Mother.

Rhian had not left her side, his arm draped across her shoulders, his body a barrier between her and the rest of the pack. But even his presence could not shield her from the stares.

The wolves watched her now the way they might watch a wild animal chained too close — reverent, but wary. Afraid that at any moment, the chain would break.

Corin was the first to voice what everyone else was thinking.

“This isn’t sustainable,” he said, his tone sharp as he paced before the camp. “They’ve been kneeling there all night. All morning. Waiting. For her.”

“They’re not attacking,” Rhian countered. His voice was low, dangerous.

“Not yet,” Corin snapped. His gaze swung to Aisla, hard and unyielding. “But they will. And when they do, it won’t be because of us. It’ll be because of her.”

The words stung more than she wanted to admit. She straightened, fire licking faintly at her veins. “You think I want this? You think I wanted them tied to me?”

Corin didn’t flinch. “Want has nothing to do with it. You spoke, and they listened. That makes you their master, whether you choose it or not.”

The fire surged violently at his words, as if it liked the sound of master. Aisla dug her nails into her palms until blood welled, willing the flames to quiet.

Rhian’s growl cut the air, his wolf breaking through in his voice. “Say another word against her, and I’ll silence you myself.”

But the damage had already been done. The pack was restless, unease thickening with every heartbeat.

And then — the attack came.

It started as a whisper on the wind, the faint crack of branches under deliberate weight. Aisla’s head snapped up, fire flaring unbidden in her chest. She felt them before she saw them.

The Woken.

Shadows spilled from between the trees, their hooded forms gliding silently into the clearing. Wolves shifted instantly, growls vibrating through the air, claws sinking into frost-hardened earth.

At their center, the young-faced leader emerged. His smile was quiet, almost kind, though his eyes burned with cruel amusement.

“You see?” he said softly, his voice carrying across the frozen clearing. “Even when you try to deny it, they answer you. They wait for you.”

Rhian stepped forward, his wolf barely restrained, golden eyes blazing. “You won’t touch her.”

The Woken leader tilted his head. “Touch her? No. Why would I, when she will come to me willingly?”

Aisla’s body stiffened. The fire inside her shuddered, pulling toward him like iron to a lodestone. She gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to move.

And then the Hollowed rose.

All at once, the kneeling forms straightened, their movements jerky but united, their empty eyes locked on her. The tether between them pulled taut, ripping through her chest with unbearable force.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Don’t.”

They did not obey.

The Woken leader’s voice slid like silk into her ears. “Command them, Aisla. Show your Alpha, your pack, what you truly are. Call your children to protect you.”

The Hollowed shifted, claws scraping, jaws snapping. Wolves bristled, ready to strike, but waiting for her — always waiting for her.

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. She could feel Rhian’s stare burning into her, pleading without words.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t give him what he wants.”

The Hollowed lunged.

Chaos exploded. Wolves collided with Hollowed in a frenzy of teeth and claws. Shadows lashed from the Woken, slamming wolves into trees, choking the air. Fire surged inside Aisla, desperate, ravenous.

One Hollowed broke through, launching straight for Rhian’s throat. Aisla screamed, the word ripping from her before she could stop it.

“Stop!”

The Hollowed froze mid-leap, body snapping rigid. Then, like a ripple through water, every Hollowed stilled. They dropped to their knees, claws digging into the frozen soil, heads bowed.

The battlefield fell silent.

Even the Woken stilled.

Aisla’s chest heaved, her body trembling. The Hollowed knelt before her once more — not before the wolves, not before the Woken. Only her.

Her fire roared with satisfaction.

The Woken leader’s smile spread, slow and terrible. “Beautiful.”

Rhian’s breath was ragged, his eyes wide with horror. He turned to her, voice raw. “Aisla… what have you done?”

Her lips trembled. She wanted to say she hadn’t meant to. That it had been instinct, panic, anything but choice.

But deep down, she knew.

It had been too easy. Too natural.

She hadn’t just stopped them. She had claimed them.

Again.

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The Woken withdrew, shadows curling around them as the leader gave her one last look. “Soon, Aisla. Very soon, you will stop denying who you are.”

And then they were gone, leaving only silence, blood, and the weight of what she had just proven.

The Hollowed remained kneeling, silent worshippers in the snow.

The pack stared at her as though she were a stranger.

Rhian reached for her, his hand trembling as it brushed her arm. “We’ll fix this. We’ll find a way to break the bond.”

But when she looked into his eyes, she saw the truth he was trying to bury.

He was afraid of her.

And the fire inside her purred in triumph.

Because so was she.