Chapter 11- The Alpha Who Lost His Focus
1189 Words
Jasper
The paperwork wasn’t difficult.
It was routine: supply logs, patrol rotations, leyline readings. Jasper had done it a hundred times. Probably more. He could fill out half the forms in his sleep.
But today, his thoughts kept slipping.
Not into memory.
Into her.
Juniper.
---
It wasn’t like him.
He was good at compartmentalizing. At keeping the spiral separate from the strategy. At leading without letting the bond bleed into the logistics.
But today, every time he tried to write down the perimeter schedule, he remembered the way her fingers curled into his coat.
Every time he reviewed the leyline readings, he remembered the way she didn’t flinch when he kissed her.
Every time he tried to focus, he remembered that she stayed.
---
He didn’t know what to do with that.
She hadn’t promised anything.
She hadn’t said it meant more than it did.
But she hadn’t pulled away.
And that, somehow, was louder than anything she could’ve said.
---
The door creaked.
Jasper didn’t look up.
His beta, Kieran, stepped into the room, arms full of scrolls, expression unreadable.
“You’re behind,” Kieran said.
Jasper nodded. “I know.”
Kieran dropped the scrolls onto the table. “You’re never behind.”
Jasper didn’t answer.
Kieran narrowed his eyes. “You’re distracted.”
Jasper finally looked up. “I’m fine.”
Kieran raised a brow. “You’re lying.”
---
Jasper leaned back in his chair, rubbing the spiral burn on his wrist. It pulsed faintly—warm, steady, alive. He hated how it felt like a reminder.
Kieran crossed his arms. “You want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Too bad.”
Jasper sighed. “It was one kiss.”
Kieran blinked. “You kissed her?”
Jasper didn’t respond.
Kieran sat down. “You kissed Juniper Thornclaw.”
Jasper stared at the paperwork. “She kissed me back.”
Kieran whistled. “Well. That explains the paperwork disaster.”
---
Jasper didn’t smile.
He didn’t joke.
He just said, “She stayed.”
Kieran’s voice softened. “And you didn’t expect her to.”
“No.”
“Do you want her to stay again?”
Jasper didn’t answer.
Kieran didn’t push.
---
The silence stretched.
Not uncomfortable.
Just wide enough to hold the truth.
Jasper finally said, “I don’t know what this is.”
Kieran nodded. “You don’t have to.”
Jasper looked at him. “But I want to.”
Kieran didn’t press.
He just sat across from Jasper, watching the way his alpha’s fingers kept tracing the edge of the scroll without reading it. The blade from the Vault lay nearby, untouched. The spiral shimmered faintly on Jasper’s wrist.
“You’re not sleeping,” Kieran said.
Jasper didn’t deny it.
“You’re not leading like you used to.”
Jasper looked up. “What does that mean?”
Kieran shrugged. “You used to be sharp. Strategic. Cold, sometimes. But clear.”
Jasper leaned back. “And now?”
Kieran’s voice was quiet. “Now you hesitate.”
---
Jasper didn’t argue.
He didn’t defend.
He just said, “She stayed.”
Kieran nodded. “And that matters.”
Jasper stared at the paperwork. “It shouldn’t.”
“But it does.”
---
The silence stretched.
Not uncomfortable.
Just wide enough to hold the truth.
Jasper finally said, “I don’t know what this is.”
Kieran nodded. “You don’t have to.”
Jasper looked at him. “But I want to.”
---
Kieran stood. “Then stop pretending it’s not happening.”
Jasper blinked. “What?”
“You’re not behind because you’re distracted. You’re behind because you’re resisting.”
Jasper frowned. “Resisting what?”
Kieran met his gaze. “The fact that you want her.”
---
Jasper didn’t respond.
Not because he disagreed.
Because he didn’t know how to agree out loud.
---
Later, when the camp had quieted and the paperwork remained unfinished, Jasper found himself walking the perimeter. Not for patrol. For clarity.
The spiral pulsed beneath his skin.
Not flaring.
Just warm.
He didn’t know what this bond was becoming.
But he knew what it wasn’t.
It wasn’t containment.
It wasn’t obedience.
It wasn’t silence.
---
It was her.
And she had stayed.
The perimeter was quiet.
Too quiet.
Jasper had walked it twice now, boots damp with dew, spiral pulsing faintly beneath his wrist. The mist hadn’t lifted. The wolves hadn’t stirred. And Juniper hadn’t appeared.
He didn’t know if he wanted her to.
But he knew he was listening to her anyway.
---
He returned to the war room just after sunrise.
The paperwork was still there—unread, unfinished, untouched. Kieran had left a note on top of the patrol logs: Try again when you’re honest.
Jasper didn’t smile.
But he didn’t ignore it either.
---
He sat down.
Tried to focus.
Tried to lead.
Tried to be the alpha who didn’t let proximity rewrite priority.
But every time he picked up a scroll, he remembered the way Juniper had looked at him—steady, unflinching, chosen.
Every time he tried to write, he remembered the way she hadn’t pulled away.
---
He didn’t know what this bond was becoming.
But he knew what it wasn’t.
It wasn’t political.
It wasn’t strategic.
It wasn’t safe.
---
It was her.
And she had stayed.
He didn’t finish the paperwork.
He stared at it.
Let it sit.
Let it accuse him.
The blade from the Vault lay across the table, runes dim, spiral quiet. It had flared for her. It had flared for them. Now it waited.
So did he.
---
Kieran returned just before midday.
He didn’t knock.
He didn’t speak.
He just dropped a fresh stack of scrolls onto the table and leaned against the doorframe.
“You’re still behind,” he said.
Jasper didn’t look up. “I know.”
Kieran crossed his arms. “You're going to pretend this is about logistics?”
Jasper exhaled. “No.”
“Good.”
---
The silence stretched.
Kieran finally said, “You want her.”
Jasper didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
“You trust her?”
Jasper’s voice dropped. “I’m trying.”
Kieran nodded. “That’s enough.”
---
Jasper looked up. “Is it?”
Kieran met his gaze. “For now.”
---
Later, Jasper stood at the edge of the spiral’s echo, where the soil still shimmered faintly with memory. The younger wolves had begun to gather—not in formation, but in tension. They weren’t waiting for orders.
They were watching him.
Not as an alpha.
As a fracture.
As a choice.
---
Juniper arrived just before dusk.
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t smile.
She just stood beside him, cloak damp with mist, eyes steady.
Jasper didn’t reach for her.
But he didn’t step away.
The spiral pulsed between them.
Not flaring.
Just warm.
---
He didn’t know what this bond was becoming.
But he knew what it wasn’t.
It wasn’t containment.
It wasn’t silence.
It wasn’t written.
---
It was her.
And she had stayed.
- Writer
