Betrayed by my Alpha

Chapter 5 - Thoughts

The fire had burned low by the time Tahla finally sat still in her home.

She had been restless all evening, moving from one end of her home to the other, straightening things that did not need straightening, checking the window, and checking it again. Eventually she gave up the pretence of busyness and lowered herself into the chair by the hearth, her hands loose in her lap, her eyes on the dying flames.

Varek had come.

She had known, somewhere deep and quiet, that this day would arrive. She had spent years building the Lunaris into something that could not be walked into without permission or having to deal with consequences once anyone tried to force their way inside. Every border ward had been placed with the intention of permanently removing that would threaten their sanctuary. Every patrol route had been drawn with the memory of what one man's betrayal could look like.

She had been thorough. She had been careful. And still, somehow, knowing he had stood at her borders and turned away did not bring the relief it should have.

Tahla leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling.

She thought of the woman she had been when she first came to this land. Bloodied, barefoot, enormous with child, with nothing but fury and the stubborn refusal to lie down and die. She had stumbled into a camp of people who had their own wounds, their own grievances with the world, their own reasons to distrust a stranger who walked out of the forest claiming nothing except that she had survived.

But she had killed the rogue alpha who had terrorised them, and in doing so, she had bought them their freedom and bought herself something she had not expected. Their loyalty.

She remembered the days that followed. The quiet, tentative conversations the people had when she wasn't close enough to hear. The people had approached her one or two at a time, asking questions, watching her with cautious eyes. Then the gathering, when they had come together as one and asked her to lead them. She had stood in the middle of that circle and felt the full weight of their hope pressing against her chest, and she had wanted nothing more than to refuse. She did not feel worthy to lead such good people.

She had agreed though because they had not allowed her to refuse.

It had not been an easy beginning. She had not known how to be what they needed and for a long time, that was all she offered them. But they had accepted it. They had stayed.

Naveya had been one of the first to truly trust her. A quiet woman with light hair and blue eyes that reminded Tahla of the sky. She had spent years beneath the rogue alpha's control, was forced upon by him and had borne him two sons. When Tahla had driven that branch through that man's heart, Naveya had not flinched. She had only exhaled, long and slow, and then she had looked at Tahla with so much gratitude and relief.

They had grown close over the seasons that followed. Naveya and Mira both, women who had made themselves necessary to the Lunaris through the daily work of keeping the community alive. Cooking, tending wounds, teaching the children, remembering what plants could heal and which could harm. Tahla had come to rely on them more than she ever did anyone but her mother.

And the Lunaris had grown.

At first it had been a handful of survivors huddled around cook fires, rationing what little they had and sleeping in shifts to keep watch through the night. Then word had spread, moving from mouth to mouth through forests and across borders. Lost wolves found their way to them. Outcasts. The banished. Those who had been cast aside by their clans for reasons that said more about the clans than the people leaving them. Tahla had taken them all in, one by one, and made a place for each of them.

She thought of Zephael, the man who had different eyes.

He had arrived on a grey morning with blood on his brow and nothing else. She had learned his story in pieces. He had been an alpha, once. His own brother had stripped that from him, engineered his disgrace, turned his clan against him and sent him out with nothing but the clothes on his back. He was a man who had lost everything to the one person who should never have trusted.

Tahla had known that feeling. She had given him a bed and a place at her table and asked nothing of him except that he respect the people around him. He had done more than that. He had fought for the Lunaris with everything he had, and he had earned the title of beta not because she had given it to him but because he had earned the people's love, trust and loyalty.

The raids had come, in those early years. Small clans and groups of rogues testing the borders. Larger ones sending scouts to find out what they were dealing with. A few had pushed all the way to their walls, and those encounters had been brutal and close and left marks on the Lunaris that took seasons to fade.

But they had come through every one.

And eventually the raids had stopped because word of what the Lunaris had become began to travel with a different kind of story behind it. They had numbers now. They had people who had survived worse than most clans would ever face and had come out harder for it. Attacking the Lunaris was no longer a gamble worth taking.

Tahla felt something warm settle in her chest at the thought of it. Pride, she supposed. Not in herself, but in them. In what they had built together out of nothing.

The door burst open suddenly, it startled her.

Azran came through it like a small disaster, trailing dust and dried mud on her clean floors, his dark hair standing in every direction. He pulled up short when he saw her and grinned, completely unrepentant, the gap in his front teeth visible even across the room. Behind him, Zephael stepped through the doorway at a considerably more reasonable pace, his hands clasped behind his back.

He dipped his head in greeting. "Alpha."

"Zephael." Tahla rose from the chair and looked her son up and down. "What happened to you?"

"Training," Azran said immediately, with great confidence, as though this explained everything.

Zephael's mouth curved. "The future heir took on the training ground with much enthusiasm. The training ground won most of the rounds, but he gave it a good fight."

“I really did, Mama!” The boy's smile widened.

Tahla laughed. It came out more freely than she expected, and it felt good, loosening something in her chest that had been pulled tight all evening. She crossed to her son and ran her fingers through his hair, dislodging a small shower of dust. He scrunched his face and tolerated it.

"Inside," she said. "You need a bath."

"I don't need one," he said, in the tone of a person who was fully aware he was going to lose this argument.

"Inside, Azran."

He whined, low and theatrical, and then shuffled past her toward the inner door with the walk of a small child that he was performing reluctant obedience. She watched him go. She tracked the shape of him, the way he held his shoulders and her heart contracted. It hurt a little.

What if Varek found out she was alive? That did not scare her as much as him finding out she had been with child and had his son.

The thought was never far. It lived at the back of everything, patient and cold, surfacing in moments like this one. She had told herself, many times, that the Lunaris would protect them. That she would protect them. That no one could reach her son while she still breathed.

And no one would ever reach her son.

She turned back to find Zephael watching her quietly.

He was too perceptive for his own good, she had always thought. Or perhaps for hers.

"He will not get through," he said, simply. "If Varek Navar comes back, he will meet the same answer he was given today. I will make certain of it."

"I know you would." Tahla moved to stand beside the window. Outside, the Lunaris was settling into the evening. Fires were being lit. Voices carrying across the courtyard. The ordinary, unremarkable proof that the life she had built here was real. "But I have been thinking."

Zephael said nothing, instead he waited.

"He came with the Mirefall leader," she said. "That is not a man who goes anywhere without a reason. Varek always had a strong reason to reach out to any other clan." She paused. "If he is seeking aid, something has gone badly wrong at Ironpeak."

Still Zephael waited.

"Let him in," she said. "The next time he comes to our borders, bring him through."

The silence stretched a moment longer than she expected.

"You are certain?" Zephael asked. His voice was even, but she could hear the care underneath it.

"No." She said it plainly. "But I am curious enough to try. I want to know why he came. I want to know what he has lost and what he is willing to ask for." She turned from the window. "Keep eyes on him. He does not go anywhere in the Lunaris alone. He does not speak to or sight Azran no matter what circumstance. Those are the only conditions I require."

Zephael inclined his head. "Understood."

"And Zephael." She held his gaze. "Only if he comes back."

A slight pause. "If he comes back," he agreed.

He left quietly, pulling the door shut behind him.

Tahla stood in the dimming room and listened to the sounds of her son in the next room, complaining to no one in particular about the indignity of baths, and she allowed herself one more moment of stillness before she went to him.