Marked By The Alpha

Chapter Fifteen - War at the Border

The forest was restless.

Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig seemed sharper, heavier, carrying an edge of warning through the night. The pack had doubled their patrols as Michael commanded, and still, unease gnawed at the air. Wolves paced the ridges, ears swiveling, fur bristling. The moon was waxing, nearing its fullness, and with each rise, Ivy felt Arthur’s pull growing stronger.

She stood at the training yard, bow taut in her hands, loosing arrow after arrow into the target. The thud of wood splitting was satisfying, but it did little to ease the tremor in her chest. Sweat slicked her skin, the cool night air clinging damply to her.

Selra stirred within her. You’re tense, Ivy. You’re fighting shadows instead of focusing on the enemy.

“I can feel him,” Ivy muttered under her breath, lowering the bow. Her eyes flicked to the dark treeline beyond the yard, as though Arthur might step from the shadows at any moment. “He’s close.”

The wolf’s voice grew low and grave. He’s waiting. He wants you afraid before he strikes.

Ivy’s grip tightened on the bow. “Then I’ll make sure he regrets thinking fear is all I am.”

---

Michael appeared then, his presence like a steady current that pulled her back from the edge of panic. His shirt clung to his chest with sweat, hair damp from sparring. Even weary, he carried himself like a pillar of command.

“You should rest,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve been training since sunset.”

She lowered the bow but didn’t step back. “Resting won’t stop what’s coming.”

Michael studied her for a long moment, then closed the distance between them. “You’re right,” he admitted. “But neither will burning yourself out before the fight begins.”

The words lodged in her throat, because she knew he was right—but admitting weakness felt impossible. Arthur’s taunts echoed too clearly in her mind.

Michael’s gaze softened. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me, Ivy. You’ve already done that.”

She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “Then why does it feel like I’m still failing?”

He reached out, brushing his thumb along her jaw in a fleeting, grounding touch. “Because you carry the weight of a whole war on your shoulders when it’s not yours alone to carry.”

Before she could respond, a piercing howl split the night.

Both of them froze, instincts snapping taut. That wasn’t a patrol call—it was a warning.

Michael’s expression hardened instantly. “Border,” he muttered, grabbing his weapons. “He’s here.”

---

By the time Ivy and Michael reached the northern ridge, chaos had already erupted. Rogues poured from the treeline in coordinated waves, their snarls cutting through the night. Unlike the frenzied, scattered attacks from before, these wolves moved with alarming precision—flanking, circling, forcing the pack’s guards into tight defensive lines.

Ivy’s heart hammered, Selra roaring to life inside her. The air stank of blood and fur, the clash of bodies ringing through the dark.

Michael shifted mid-run, his golden wolf exploding into motion, larger and fiercer than the rest. His roar split the battlefield, sending a surge of strength through his warriors. Ivy followed, her body igniting as Selra burst free, silver fur gleaming in the moonlight.

They collided with the rogues like thunder. Ivy’s jaws snapped down on the throat of a rogue lunging for a packmate, the hot gush of blood spilling into her mouth. She spat it out with a growl, spinning to meet the next.

Selra’s voice sharpened. They’re disciplined. Someone’s directing them. This isn’t just an attack—it’s a test.

Ivy’s gut twisted. “Arthur.”

Even as she said it, she felt him—like invisible chains tugging at her soul. The mark at her collarbone burned, searing hot. A voice slithered into her mind.

Fight for me, little wolf. Show them what power truly looks like.

Her legs faltered for a heartbeat, her body jerking as though pulled by strings. A rogue lunged for her exposed flank—only for Michael’s wolf to slam into it, sending the attacker sprawling.

His golden eyes met hers, fierce and demanding. Stay with me, Ivy. Fight him.

The command in his Alpha voice pierced through Arthur’s pull, grounding her. She roared, shaking her head, forcing the haze back.

Selra surged forward, snapping down on another rogue. You’re stronger than him. Don’t forget it.

---

The battle raged on. The northern ridge became a storm of fur and fang, blood soaking into the soil. Rogues came in relentless waves, but the pack fought with equal ferocity.

Still, Ivy could see it—the precision, the rhythm of their assault. Arthur wasn’t trying to overwhelm them; he was testing their defenses, probing their strength.

As she tore through another rogue, her ears flicked toward the shadows beyond the battlefield. And there—half-hidden by trees—she saw him.

Arthur.

Tall, dark-haired, his crimson eyes glowing like embers in the night. He leaned casually against a tree, arms folded, as if this chaos was nothing more than entertainment.

When their eyes locked, the mark flared, heat searing through her veins. Her breath hitched, her body swaying toward him before she realized what she was doing.

Michael saw it too. He tore his jaws free from an enemy and growled low, his voice in her mind sharp as steel. Don’t look at him, Ivy. He wants to break your focus.

But Arthur’s lips curved into a smile. His voice cut through the battlefield, low and mocking, meant only for her.

You feel it, don’t you? The power waiting for you. Stop resisting me, and it will all be yours.

Her knees threatened to buckle.

Michael slammed into her side, forcing her attention back to the fight. Look at me! he commanded, golden power wrapping around her like a shield.

Her breath came ragged, her eyes snapping to his. The world steadied. For a heartbeat, the pull of Arthur’s mark weakened under the weight of Michael’s Alpha bond.

And in that heartbeat, Ivy knew—if she faltered, if she let Arthur in, the battle would be lost.

---

The fight dragged on until the first hint of dawn crept into the sky. At last, the rogues retreated, vanishing into the forest as swiftly as they had come. Their numbers had thinned, but not broken.

The pack regrouped, bloodied but standing. Dozens were wounded, some gravely. Ivy shifted back, her body shaking, her skin streaked with blood and dirt.

Michael stood at the center, his chest heaving, golden eyes burning with fury as he scanned the treeline. Arthur was gone.

But Ivy could still feel him—lingering in her veins, his laughter echoing in her skull.

---

When the warriors dispersed to tend the wounded, Ivy found herself trembling near the ridge. Her body ached, her spirit even more so. Michael approached, his steps heavy with exhaustion, but his gaze fixed on her.

“You saw him,” he said flatly. It wasn’t a question.

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “He wasn’t hiding. He wanted me to see him. He wanted me to feel it.”

Michael’s hands clenched at his sides. “And did you?”

Her throat tightened, shame burning through her. “Yes. The mark—he… it pulled at me. If you hadn’t…” Her voice broke. “I don’t know what would have happened.”

Michael stepped closer, gripping her shoulders firmly. His eyes bored into hers, sharp but steady. “You fought it. That’s what matters. You didn’t give in, Ivy. Remember that.”

“But the full moon—”

“We’ll find a way to break his hold,” Michael interrupted, his tone hard with conviction. “I don’t care what it takes. I won’t let him claim you.”

Her breath caught, her heart pounding at the raw determination in his voice. She searched his face, seeing not just the Alpha, but the man beneath—the one who would burn the world before letting her fall.

For the first time, hope sparked faintly against the crushing fear.

But as the dawn fully broke, painting the battlefield in pale light, Ivy knew this was only the beginning. Arthur wasn’t done testing them.

And the next time he struck, it wouldn’t just be a test.

It would be war.