Chapter Two: The Weight of Ashes and Memory
1919 Words
Clover ran without slowing until her legs ached and her lungs burned. The forest blurred around her—tall pines and jagged stones—and the cold morning air clawed at her face. But none of it compared to the storm inside her chest.
By the time she reached the edge of the woods, her fury had cooled into something quieter. Sadder.
Ryker’s cabin sat in its usual stubborn stillness—tucked into the land like it grew from the ground itself, all old wood and iron. Smoke curled from the crooked chimney. The smell of pine and wolf musk hung in the air, grounding her.
She didn’t knock. She never had to.
Inside, Ryker was hunched over a blade, sharpening it by the fire. His thick arms and grizzled beard made him look more bear than man, but when he looked up and saw her, his expression softened.
“What happened this time?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
Clover opened her mouth, but the words tumbled out in pieces. “They said—I should stop training… that I’m not even worthy of being Alpha… They said I should be married off.”
Ryker stood and stepped toward her without a word. She fell into his arms like she had done a hundred times before. Strong. Safe.
He didn’t say anything at first, just let her be.
Eventually, she stepped back, rubbing her sleeve over her face. “I hate them.”
“You don’t,” Ryker said gently. “But I don’t blame you for feeling like you do.”
She exhaled, shakily. “They never listen. Dad… he just sat there. Like I wasn’t even his daughter. Like I didn’t matter.”
“You do matter. To me. Always.”
They stood in silence for a moment before Ryker gestured to the kitchen. “Come on. Tea’s still hot.”
⸻
As they sat at the worn wooden table, Clover’s gaze drifted to the old picture frame above the mantle. Her mother, Ruby, was smiling in the photo, standing between Ryker and another woman—tall, dark-skinned, with laughing eyes.
Gina.
Ryker followed her gaze and smiled faintly. “They’d be raising hell if they were still here. Ruby wouldn’t have let anyone talk down to you. And Gina would’ve torn your father a new one for bringing that woman home.”
Clover snorted softly. “I miss them.”
“I do too. Every damn day.”
They fell into a heavy quiet, one that didn’t feel awkward or forced. Just real.
⸻
Three Years Earlier
It had been weeks since the attack. Weeks since the blood. Since the screams. Since the light in her father’s eyes died.
Clover remembered being thirteen and standing in Ryker’s cabin, holding a basket of food and supplies, unsure if he’d even open the door.
He didn’t.
So she let herself in.
The place was a mess. Dishes in the sink. Dust gathering in corners. The fire was out.
Ryker hadn’t left his bed in days.
So she did what her mother would’ve done. She cleaned. She cooked. She made sure his fire never went out.
She kept showing up, even when he didn’t speak. Even when he looked through her like she was a ghost.
Sometimes she’d just sit in the living room and talk—about her mum, about her day, about school and training and her wolf dreams. She even left behind a schedule for a caretaker from the village when she had school.
And then one day, Ryker finally sat up, bleary-eyed and hollowed-out, and asked, “You still here?”
Clover blinked back tears and nodded.
He got up that day. Had a bath. Ate soup.
And that night, they sat by the fire for the first time, side by side.
“I lost her,” Ryker said quietly. “I lost both of them.”
Clover took his hand. “So did I.”
They talked until dawn. Shared memories, grief, laughter. Stories of Gina and Ruby in their wild teenage years. How Gina punched a drunk Alpha in the nose at a festival. How Ruby once shifted in the middle of a meeting just to prove a point.
They laughed and cried, and by the end of it, something unspoken passed between them.
A bond sealed not just by blood—but by survival.
From that day on, Ryker was more than her uncle. He was her person.
⸻
Present Day
Back in the warmth of the cabin, Clover sipped her tea, the bitterness grounding her.
“Do you remember,” she said, “how shocked everyone was when Dad brought her home?”
Ryker snorted. “Like it was yesterday. Less than a year after Ruby was gone and suddenly he’s back from a ‘business trip’ with a stranger and a smile.”
“I wanted to be happy for him,” Clover said. “I really did. I knew he was hurting. I was hurting. But it just felt… wrong. Like he didn’t even finish mourning her.”
“He didn’t,” Ryker said. “He buried it. Drowned it. And now it’s festering.”
Clover nodded. “And I had to put my grief on pause to help the Beta run the damn pack.”
“You shouldn’t have had to.”
“No. But I did it anyway. Because someone had to.”
Ryker looked at her then—not like she was a broken girl to be protected, but like a warrior standing in the ashes of her pain, still fighting.
“You’re stronger than all of them combined, you know that?”
“I don’t feel it.”
“You will. You keep showing them who you are. And when they still don’t get it? That’s when you take it. Not for revenge. But because the pack deserves better. And you are better.”
Clover’s hand tightened around her mug. “I’ll never be like them.”
“Good,” Ryker said. “That’s exactly why you’ll be the first female Alpha.”
They sat in silence again, but this time, it wasn’t heavy.
It was powerful.
————
3 days later
The weights slammed to the floor with a satisfying thud, the sound echoing through the otherwise quiet training gym. Clover wiped sweat from her brow, red hair clinging to her temple, her breath heavy but steady. She’d been at it for hours—punches, lunges, shifts, and sprints. Every movement was a distraction. A release. A scream she couldn’t let out.
Alpha training had been promised. Again. And again, delayed.
Excuses. Always excuses.
Not enough time. Not enough instructors. “You’re still young, Clover.” “We need to reassess your qualifications.”
Even with elders and warriors rallying behind her, it meant nothing to Alpha Marcus. Nothing to her father.
But Ryker—he showed up.
“You’re overextending your back on that last jab,” he said from across the mat, casually drinking water. “Drop your shoulder and throw it again.”
Clover grunted, nodding, and reset her stance.
She struck.
Better.
“Good,” Ryker said, a faint smile on his lips. “Again.”
They sparred for another hour. Ryker gave no special treatment, and Clover wanted none. She fought hard, moved faster, her toned limbs a blur of strength and precision. She was power made flesh, fire in her veins, every part of her forged through grief and grit.
Despite what her stepmother said, she wasn’t too muscular, or unfeminine. She was radiant—Ruby’s fire-colored hair, her father’s strong jaw, and a strength entirely her own.
When they finally took a break, she dropped onto the padded floor, chest heaving. Ryker tossed her a towel and sat beside her.
“She’s still in your head, huh?” he asked, referring to her stepmother.
“She said I’d scare off my mate. That I’m too strong. Too aggressive.” Clover scoffed, twisting the towel in her hands. “That no man wants a Luna who can knock him on his ass.”
Ryker chuckled. “Then you need a man who knows how to handle a real Alpha.”
Akira, her wolf, growled softly in agreement. Our mate will be proud, not scared.
Clover nodded to herself. “We’ll find him. The Moon Goddess doesn’t make mistakes.”
Ryker leaned back on his elbows, staring at the ceiling. “Your mom would’ve been proud.”
They fell quiet again, the kind of peace that only years of shared pain and healing could bring.
Then Clover froze.
A prickle danced across her spine. Her skin buzzed with that unmistakable feeling—being watched.
She scanned the room. “Did you feel that?”
Ryker stood slowly, sniffing the air. “Yeah… It’s faint. But it’s there.”
They looked around but found nothing. No scents. No shadows. Just the eerie silence of being seen by no one.
After a moment, Ryker shrugged. “Could be paranoia.”
Clover didn’t answer. Her eyes lingered on the shadows at the edge of the gym.
⸻
Three Days Earlier – Alpha’s Office
The Alpha office was warm, lined with old books and the scent of cedarwood. Alpha Marcus sat behind his desk, tea in hand, while his wife adjusted the collar of his shirt with doting care. Her smile was sweet—too sweet.
“What’s all this commotion this morning?” she asked, as if she hadn’t orchestrated half of it.
Their son, Ronan, strode in like the heir he believed he was. He stood tall, arms crossed, his smirk smug.
“I deserve the Alpha position,” he began without preamble. “I’ve trained. I’ve studied. I’m not weak like Clover, always chasing fantasies about being Alpha. She should be married off like she’s supposed to be. We all know it.”
His mother moved beside him proudly, nodding. “He’s right, my love. It’s time we make the decision official. Clover is a sweet girl, but she needs guidance. A mate will be good for her.”
Marcus didn’t speak. He drank more tea.
Then, slowly, he looked at Ronan. “Very well. I’ll consider it.”
His wife smiled and poured him another cup, her hand brushing his. As Marcus sipped again, his eyes glazed slightly.
“I’ve made my decision,” he said moments later. “Ronan will be Alpha.”
Ronan grinned, that same sinister smirk he always wore when he thought he won.
“And Clover?” he asked.
“Don’t worry,” his mother said. “We’ll handle her.”
⸻
Later That Night – Ronan’s Room
Ronan lay naked in bed, body slick with sweat, Lola straddling him. She rode him with practiced confidence, her dark curls bouncing, her moans echoing through the room.
It was their third round.
When he finally came, his body spasmed beneath her. Lola grinned, leaning down to kiss him.
“What’s got you so cocky today?” she asked playfully.
Ronan grinned. “I’m going to be Alpha. The old man finally said it.”
Lola’s eyes flickered—shock, then something darker. But she smiled sweetly, sliding her fingers through his hair. “Really? That’s amazing…”
She kissed him again, longer this time.
He passed out soon after.
And Lola climbed out of bed, completely alert, completely naked. She grabbed her phone and left the room silently, her expression unreadable.
- Writer
