Marked By The Alpha

Chapter Twelve -The Rising Storm

Three nights. That was all the time left before the full moon bathed the forest in silver fire. For most wolves, it was a night of renewal, of balance between man and beast. For Ivy, it loomed like a curse and a promise twisted together, tugging at every nerve in her body.

Selra stirred restlessly inside her. You feel it too, don’t you? The pull of destiny?

Ivy pressed her palms against the rough bark of a pine tree, grounding herself. “Destiny feels more like a storm ready to tear me apart.”

The wolf’s voice shimmered through her thoughts, calm yet fierce. Storms break what is weak, but they sharpen what is strong. We are stronger than either of them believes.

Arthur’s claim still burned faintly on her skin, his mark etched into her like fire. Michael’s eyes haunted her—those promises of freedom and choice, so unlike the chains Arthur forged with every command. Both men, both Alphas, circled her like predators, each certain she belonged to him.

She wanted to scream that she belonged to herself.

Instead, Ivy drew a deep breath and let Selra’s strength bleed into her veins. Her wolf wanted to run, to leap, to test the limits of her newfound power. But she couldn’t forget Arthur’s parting words:

“You will be mine, Ivy. The moon itself cannot change that.”

Shivers coursed down her spine at the memory.

---

The pack lands were alive that evening. Warriors sparred in the clearing, their movements sharp and deadly under the fading light. The scent of pine and steel filled the air. Ivy had come at Michael’s invitation, though she hadn’t fully decided if it was courage or recklessness that made her accept.

Michael stood near the training ring, issuing instructions. His presence commanded attention—not through the sheer force Arthur wielded, but through respect earned in every gesture. His golden-brown hair caught the glow of the setting sun, and when his eyes found hers across the field, warmth spread through her chest before she could stop it.

“You came,” he said softly as she approached.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I thought Arthur would try to keep you locked in his shadow.” His voice darkened. “But you’re here. That means something.”

Ivy looked away, unable to hold the weight of his gaze. “It means I’m tired of being pulled apart.”

Michael’s hand brushed hers, fleeting but electric. “Then let me show you another way.”

Before she could answer, a horn echoed through the clearing. The warriors froze mid-spar. Michael’s expression hardened instantly, Alpha authority pouring from him.

“Scouts,” one of the guards muttered, rushing forward. “They’ve returned.”

A group of wolves emerged from the trees, their bodies dusted with mud and blood. The lead scout shifted mid-stride, panting heavily. “Rogues,” he reported. “Dozens of them gathering near the eastern ridge. And they’re organized—too organized.”

A ripple of unease spread through the pack. Rogues were normally wild, chaotic. If they were acting in unison, something—or someone—was driving them.

Michael’s jaw tightened. “Arthur.”

The name hung in the air like venom.

Ivy’s pulse raced. Arthur wouldn’t unleash rogues, would he? And yet she remembered the gleam in his eyes, the way he spoke of power and inevitability.

Michael turned to her, voice low but urgent. “This isn’t a coincidence. He knows the full moon is close. He wants you unsettled, desperate. He’ll use fear to force your choice.”

Ivy clenched her fists. “Then I won’t let him win.”

Selra’s approval thrummed through her. That’s my girl.

---

Night fell heavy and fast, draping the forest in shadow. The pack gathered in the great hall, a wide timbered structure that smelled of cedar smoke and old stone. Candles flickered along the walls as warriors reported their findings.

Ivy sat near the edge, feeling every eye on her. She wasn’t pack, not truly, but she was the storm’s center and they all knew it.

Michael addressed the room, his voice steady. “The rogues massing at the ridge aren’t acting alone. They’re being guided. We’ll reinforce the borders and prepare for an attack. But make no mistake—this isn’t just about territory.”

His eyes flicked toward Ivy, just briefly, but enough that murmurs stirred.

“This is about her,” someone whispered.

Heat crawled up Ivy’s neck. She wanted to vanish, but Selra snarled inside her. Stand tall. Do not let them see fear.

Michael silenced the whispers with a raised hand. “No one touches her. Not Arthur, not the rogues. She is under my protection.”

The declaration struck Ivy like lightning. Protection. Not possession. For once, the word didn’t feel like chains.

But it also painted a target on her back.

---

Later, when the hall emptied and the fire dwindled low, Ivy slipped outside for air. The night hummed with crickets, the moon a thin sliver overhead. She hugged herself, lost in the swirl of doubt and desire.

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

Arthur’s voice froze her blood.

He stepped from the shadows, tall and terrible in the moonlight, his dark eyes burning with hunger. Every inch of him radiated dominance, the kind that made weaker wolves bow without thought.

“I told you I would come for you,” he said, stalking closer.

Ivy backed up, her heart hammering. “This is Michael’s land. You can’t just—”

“Michael is nothing compared to me.” His lips curved in a cruel smile. “He thinks he can protect you? I marked you, Ivy. You’re mine.”

Selra roared inside her, furious. He may have burned his claim, but he does not own us.

Ivy’s voice shook, but she didn’t step back again. “I don’t belong to you.”

Arthur’s smile faltered, his eyes flashing dangerously. “You can deny it with words, but your body knows. The bond will drag you to me, whether you want it or not. And when the full moon rises, there will be no escape.”

Suddenly, another presence surged behind her. Michael. He moved like fire through the dark, his growl splitting the silence.

“Get away from her.”

Arthur chuckled, not intimidated in the slightest. “Ah, the pretender Alpha. Do you really think you can stand between me and what’s mine?”

Michael’s power pulsed outward, fierce and bright, clashing against Arthur’s shadowed dominance. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the weight of two Alphas facing off.

Ivy stood trapped between them, Selra clawing for control. Choose, Ivy! Show them we are not prey caught in their game.

“I’m not a prize to be fought over!” she shouted, her voice breaking through their standoff. Power she didn’t understand crackled through her veins, spilling into the night. Both men stiffened as the ground trembled faintly beneath her feet.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “So. Selra awakens fully.” His tone was almost reverent, almost afraid. “The legends were true.”

Michael glanced at her, shock mixing with pride. “Ivy…”

But before she could speak, a howl split the air—a chorus of rogues calling from the ridge. The night lit with their fury.

Arthur’s grin returned, sharp and cruel. “Three nights until the moon, Ivy. Let’s see how long you survive the storm I’ve unleashed.”

With that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving Ivy trembling, Michael at her side, and the sound of enemies closing in.

Selra’s voice was iron in her mind. The storm is here. And we will not bow.