Marked By The Alpha

Chapter Fourteen - The Alpha’s Doubt

The first light of dawn filtered through the canopy, faint and gray, washing the battlefield in an eerie glow. The clearing was silent now, broken only by the ragged breaths of those who remained standing. The ground was littered with blood and bodies, the air heavy with the sharp tang of iron.

Ivy sat on her knees, her hands trembling as she stared at the stains on her palms. They were not all hers—most belonged to the rogues she and Selra had cut down—but the weight of it pressed heavily on her chest. She could still feel the snap of bone, the warmth of blood splattering her fur. It had been intoxicating in the moment, terrifying now in the quiet.

Selra’s voice purred inside her, calm but firm. We survived. We protected them. Do not fear the strength in your hands—it is what makes us whole.

Ivy swallowed hard. “And what if Arthur’s right? What if that strength belongs to him?”

Her wolf growled in disgust. He may have placed a mark, but he does not own what we are. Do you hear me, Ivy? We are not his.

But doubt crept in anyway, slithering like smoke.

A hand touched her shoulder, steady and grounding. Ivy looked up to see Michael, his face drawn but resolute. There was exhaustion in the set of his jaw, bruises darkening his ribs, but his eyes—his eyes were unyielding gold.

“You did well,” he said softly, crouching so he could meet her eyes. “Without you, we would have lost more tonight.”

Her throat constricted. “I almost lost myself. He was in my head, Michael. He made me hesitate, and someone almost died because of it.”

Michael’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t look away. “Arthur knows how to exploit fear. That’s his weapon. But you fought back. You’re stronger than his whispers.”

She wanted to believe him. Moonlight help her, she wanted to. But when she closed her eyes, she still saw Arthur’s grin and felt the phantom pull of his mark.

---

By mid-morning, the dead were gathered. The pack formed a circle at the ridge where the battle had been fought, a solemn silence hanging over them. Ivy stood at the edge of the gathering, watching as Michael lifted his voice in an ancient chant of farewell.

The fallen wolves—both in fur and in flesh—were laid upon pyres, their sacrifice honored with fire. Smoke curled into the sky, carrying their spirits to the Moon Goddess. Ivy’s chest tightened as she watched families clutch each other, grief etched into every tear-streaked face.

She wrapped her arms around herself. This wasn’t just a fight—it was war. And it was only beginning.

This is why we cannot falter, Selra whispered. They will come again. Stronger. More controlled. If Arthur is gathering rogues, he is building something dangerous. Something that threatens not just you, but every soul here.

Ivy’s gaze found Michael at the center of the ritual fire. His presence was magnetic, a pillar of strength holding the pack together through sorrow. For a fleeting moment, she envied him—his certainty, his confidence, his ability to silence doubt.

But when his eyes found hers across the flames, she realized it wasn’t certainty at all. Beneath the surface, there was weariness, a shadow of fear. Even an Alpha wasn’t immune.

---

Later, when the smoke had thinned and the pack dispersed, Ivy retreated to the edge of the river that wound through the territory. The water glimmered faintly with morning light, carrying away fragments of ash.

She crouched at the bank, dipping her hands into the icy current, scrubbing at the blood that refused to leave her skin. No matter how hard she rubbed, the stains seemed to linger.

A rustle of footsteps behind her made her stiffen. She turned to find Michael approaching, his shirt discarded, wounds across his torso still raw but already healing.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he said, his voice low.

“I needed air,” she whispered. “I needed… space to breathe.”

Michael lowered himself beside her, letting the river’s spray dampen his skin. For a moment, he said nothing, just watched the water flow. Then he spoke, his words quiet but heavy.

“When I was first marked as Alpha, I thought power would be enough to shield my pack. I thought strength alone could keep them safe.” He exhaled sharply. “Last night proved me wrong again. Power isn’t enough. Leadership isn’t enough. We’re fighting something larger than either.”

Ivy turned her gaze to him, surprised by the raw honesty in his tone.

He looked back at her, his gold eyes softer now. “But when you stood beside me—when Selra fought beside me—I didn’t feel like I was carrying it alone. You made a difference, Ivy. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Her lips parted, her chest tightening with emotions she couldn’t name. Before she could speak, a faint pulse of heat flared at her collarbone—the place where Arthur’s mark had once seared into her.

Michael saw her flinch, his expression darkening. “He’s pushing again, isn’t he?”

Ivy nodded, her breath uneven. “He won’t let go. It’s like he’s waiting for me to give in.”

Michael’s jaw hardened, and his hand lifted to her shoulder, steady and protective. “Then we’ll break him. I don’t care what it takes.”

---

Night fell again, heavy and tense. Scouts reported rogue movements along the borders—more than usual. Too many to be coincidence.

Ivy paced in her chambers, Selra restless within her. Every instinct screamed that Arthur was building toward something, but what? And why her?

Then the whisper came again, velvet and cruel.

The full moon approaches, Ivy. You can fight me all you want, but when it rises, the bond will pull you back to me. You felt it last night. You felt how strong you are because of me.

Her hands curled into fists. “No,” she hissed into the darkness. “My strength isn’t yours. It never was.”

Arthur chuckled in her mind, the sound slick and chilling. We’ll see, little wolf. When the moonlight crowns you, your power will answer to me. And when it does, not even Michael will be able to save you.

Ivy’s chest heaved, anger burning through her fear. Selra’s voice cut through the haze. Do not let him shake you. We will fight him. Together.

But Ivy couldn’t silence the dread curling inside her. What if Arthur wasn’t lying? What if the full moon sealed her fate?

---

At the council chamber that evening, Michael gathered his Betas and key warriors. Ivy lingered at the edge of the room, listening as strategies unfolded.

“The rogues aren’t acting on instinct anymore,” one warrior said grimly. “They’re coordinated. Almost… trained.”

Michael’s hands rested flat on the table, his expression grim. “Arthur’s turning them into an army. If he succeeds, he won’t just be a rogue Alpha. He’ll be a warlord.”

Murmurs rippled through the room, unease thickening the air.

Ivy’s stomach twisted. She could feel the truth in those words.

Michael’s voice cut through the tension. “We’ll be ready. Patrols will double. Borders reinforced. No one leaves the territory unguarded.” His gaze flicked briefly to Ivy, protective yet heavy with unspoken meaning.

She knew what he wasn’t saying: You’re the one Arthur wants. And if he comes for you, he’ll burn the world to take you.

---

That night, sleep refused to come. Ivy tossed in her bed, her body weary but her mind consumed by shadows. The wind rattled the shutters, carrying faint howls from the distant ridge.

Selra stirred, her presence firm and grounding. We will not fall, Ivy. Remember that. We are stronger than the darkness creeping toward us.

But as Ivy finally drifted into uneasy slumber, she dreamed of Arthur’s crimson eyes and the chains of his claim.

And in the dream, she wasn’t sure if she was fighting them—or letting them pull her closer.