Chapter 3 – A Different Alpha
570 Words
The next morning, the pack gathered in the clearing.
Lira stood on the edge of the crowd, her cloak pulled tight around her. Rain clung to the trees, mist curling over the forest floor. The air was heavy — like the forest itself was holding its breath.
Kael stood at the center. Shirtless. Scarred. Silent.
Torran raised his hand. “This is a moment of miracle,” he said, his voice loud and steady. “Our Alpha has returned from death. This is a sign. A gift. The pack is whole again.”
Some wolves howled in agreement. Others stayed quiet. Confused. Unsure.
Lira watched Kael’s face. He didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. His eyes scanned the crowd like a hunter.
He looked like Kael — but the man who once stood in that place had been kind. His eyes had warmth. This man’s gaze was colder than winter.
Torran turned. “Say something to your pack.”
Kael hesitated. Then he spoke.
“I don’t remember you,” he said simply. “But I feel… connected to this place. To all of you. I don’t know if I’m who you say I am. But I’ll protect this pack with my life.”
The crowd shifted. That voice — it was Kael’s. Strong. Steady. But something in his words made Lira’s skin crawl.
When the crowd broke apart, Lira turned away quickly. She didn’t want to speak to him. Not yet. Not with all the questions in her chest.
Instead, she went where no one else ever went anymore — Kael’s old den.
The place had been sealed since his death. Dust layered the entrance. No guards. No scent markers. Just forgotten silence.
Lira slipped inside.
It smelled like ash and cedar. Faint traces of the old Kael clung to the stone walls — and something else, something burned and strange.
She went to the shelf where Kael kept his journals. Most had been taken after his death. But one small leather-bound book remained, hidden behind a cracked tile. She pulled it out with shaking hands.
She flipped through the pages. Training notes. Territory disputes. But then… the last entry:
“Torran’s been acting strange. He says the witches owe us a favor. I don’t trust magic I don’t understand.”
Lira froze.
Witches? What kind of favor?
She slipped the journal into her cloak and turned to leave — and nearly screamed.
Kael stood in the doorway.
He hadn’t made a sound.
“I followed your scent,” he said. “Why are you here?”
Lira swallowed. “This was your den. I thought… maybe it would help you remember.”
His eyes flicked to her cloak. “Did you find anything?”
She shook her head. “Just dust.”
He stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel his heat. “You’re lying.”
Lira’s pulse pounded. “You scare me,” she whispered.
“I know,” he replied. “But I don’t want to.”
She looked into his eyes — and for a moment, saw a flicker of something else. Pain. Or maybe regret.
Then it was gone.
Kael stepped back. “Stay out of this place,” he said quietly. “It’s not safe.”
Not safe?
Lira waited until he left. Then she clutched the journal tighter.
Something terrible had happened before Kael’s death.
And Torran was at the center of it.
- Writer
