"Know your place, boy," he fired back, his voice low but carrying that alpha authority that demanded respect. "You do not just walk into my pack barking like a puppy." The words landed hard, spat out with a edge of disdain that made my skin heat. "You must have a proper reason for your visit, I assume? State it."
He crossed his arms, waiting, his beta shifting slightly as if to back him up. Boy. Puppy. The insults burned, reducing me to something small and untrained in his eyes. It took everything not to snap back physically, my wolf urging me to show teeth, to assert dominance. But I held back, breathing through the rush of adrenaline. He was right, in a way—I'd stormed in without protocol, driven by emotion rather than sense. It made me question myself: was this how alphas acted? Or was
