Marked By The Alpha

Chapter Thirteen - Shadows at the Ridge

The forest pulsed with danger. Ivy’s heart thundered in her chest as Arthur’s mocking grin lingered in her memory, even after he melted back into the night. The echo of rogue howls carried through the trees, deep and guttural, rattling her bones.

Michael stood rigid beside her, his body vibrating with the sharp edge of Alpha power. His eyes never left the ridge where shadows shifted. “They’re moving faster than I thought.”

Selra bristled inside Ivy, hackles raised. They hunt in numbers, but they are not stronger than us. Trust me, Ivy. Let me fight when the time comes.

Ivy clenched her fists, torn between fear and the fierce courage Selra poured into her. “Arthur’s controlling them. He said…” She swallowed hard. “He said the storm was coming.”

Michael’s gaze snapped to hers. “Then we’ll meet it head-on.”

He tilted his head back and let out a commanding howl, sharp and commanding. The sound reverberated through the pack lands, summoning warriors from every corner. Lights flared in the great hall as wolves shifted and rushed to his call.

“Ivy.” Michael’s voice dropped, softer now. “Stay close to me. No matter what happens, don’t let Arthur’s words shake you.”

Her lips trembled. “And if he’s right? If I can’t escape the bond?”

For a moment, something vulnerable flickered in his eyes. But then his tone was iron. “You are not his. You never were. A mark doesn’t decide who you are.”

The words rooted deep in her, but doubt still gnawed at her. The heat of Arthur’s claim still burned faintly under her skin, whispering chains.

Selra growled, low and furious. No chain holds us, Ivy. Remember that.

---

The pack rallied quickly. Warriors gathered in a half-circle at the border where forest shadows loomed thickest. Some were already shifted, their massive wolf forms pacing with barely restrained energy. Others stood tall in human form, blades gleaming in the pale moonlight.

Ivy stood at Michael’s side, out of place among their hardened stares. She could feel the weight of their suspicion. Some looked at her like she was a curse brought into their midst, a reason for Arthur’s wrath. Others looked at her with something harsher—fear.

Michael’s voice cut through the murmurs. “The rogues are not here by chance. They are being driven. Arthur’s hand is behind this, make no mistake. But tonight, we hold the line. We do not falter. We do not give ground.”

A ripple of growls and shouts followed, the pack answering his call.

Then silence fell, heavy and suffocating, as the first rogue wolves emerged from the tree line.

Their eyes glowed red in the shadows, their movements too precise, too deliberate. Normally rogues fought for scraps, wild and feral. These rogues moved like soldiers.

Ivy’s throat went dry.

Michael raised his hand, signaling restraint. The pack waited, tense as bowstrings. Then the rogues surged forward.

The clearing erupted into chaos.

---

Fangs clashed against fangs, claws raked against skin. Wolves collided with bone-crushing force, snarls tearing through the night.

Michael shifted mid-leap, his massive golden-brown wolf slamming into the largest rogue, their forms tumbling in a blur of teeth and fur. His power radiated like wildfire, each strike precise and devastating.

Ivy stumbled back as two rogues broke away from the fight, circling her. Selra’s voice roared inside her. Now! Let me out!

Fear gripped her lungs, but she knew Selra was right. She closed her eyes, pulling on the thread of connection she had always feared but never fully embraced. Heat rushed through her body, her bones stretching, reshaping, until she stood not as Ivy but as Selra—silver-white fur streaked with faint blue, eyes blazing with light.

The rogues faltered.

Selra lunged, her fangs sinking deep into one wolf’s throat. Blood sprayed, hot and metallic, as the rogue crumpled. She spun on the other, her movements fluid, predatory. The second rogue hesitated, then darted away into the trees.

Selra’s growl shook the ground. Coward.

Michael’s wolf appeared beside her, golden eyes burning with pride. For a heartbeat, they stood together—two wolves, side by side, untouchable.

But the tide was far from turned. Dozens more rogues poured from the ridge, their howls carrying Arthur’s unspoken command.

---

The battle dragged deep into the night. Ivy—Selra—lost herself in the rhythm of fight and survival. Blood slicked her fur, but none of it hers. Each strike, each kill, filled her with a dark exhilaration she hadn’t expected. She was powerful. She was not prey.

But with power came whispers.

Arthur’s voice slid into her mind, soft as silk. Do you feel it, Ivy? The strength that burns in your veins? That is because of me. My mark awakened you. You fight like this because I made you mine.

Selra snarled, thrashing against his intrusion. Lies! He has no hold here.

But Ivy felt the tug, faint yet undeniable, like a thread woven into her blood. She staggered mid-fight, confusion tearing at her.

A rogue seized the moment, lunging at her exposed flank.

Michael intercepted, ripping the wolf away before it could sink its teeth into her. His wolf stood protectively over her, growling at everything that dared come near.

Focus, Selra urged, trying to pull Ivy back into the fight. He wants us to falter. He wants us to believe we’re bound. But our strength is ours, not his.

Ivy forced herself upright, shaking off Arthur’s shadow. “I am not yours,” she whispered aloud, her voice trembling with both fury and fear.

And something in the bond cracked.

Arthur’s voice recoiled with a hiss of pain. We’ll see how long you can fight me, little wolf.

---

By dawn, the clearing was littered with bodies. The rogues broke at last, scattering into the woods with pitiful howls. The pack’s warriors stood bloodied but victorious, though exhaustion sagged their shoulders.

Michael shifted back to human form, his skin streaked with blood and dirt, but his gaze sharp as ever.

He approached Ivy, who had shifted back as well, her body trembling from the strain. His hand brushed her cheek gently, his touch grounding. “You were incredible.”

Her throat tightened. “Arthur got into my head. I almost…” She shook her head, ashamed. “What if he’s right, Michael? What if the bond makes me his?”

Michael’s jaw hardened, but his touch stayed soft. “Arthur’s mark may have sparked something in you. But your power? That’s yours. Don’t let him twist it into a chain.”

Ivy’s chest ached. His words made sense, yet the echo of Arthur’s claim still throbbed faintly in her skin, like a bruise that wouldn’t fade.

Selra’s voice was steadier. We are stronger than him. And one day, we will tear the bond apart completely.

But Ivy knew Arthur wouldn’t stop.

And as the pack gathered their dead and tended their wounded, she lifted her eyes to the fading moon and whispered, “Three nights until it’s full. Three nights until everything changes.”