Chapter 13- The Alpha Who Didn't Believe in Pacts
1381 Words
Jasper
He hadn’t meant to think about her.
Not while reviewing leyline fractures. Not while drafting patrol rotations. Not while listening to Kieran argue about supply routes and spiral-safe zones. But Juniper kept slipping in.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to make him lose his place on the scroll.
Just enough to make him forget what he was supposed to be doing.
Just enough to make him feel.
---
It wasn’t new.
Not exactly.
He’d felt the pull before—when she stood beside him without flinching, when she kissed him back without asking what it meant, when she walked away without needing to be followed.
But this was different.
This was quieter.
This was dangerous.
---
He sat alone in the war room, the blade from the Vault resting across the table, spiral runes dim. The paperwork was half-finished. The maps were scattered. The scrolls were untouched.
And all he could think about was her.
Juniper Thornclaw.
The thorn who stayed.
The thorn who didn’t flinch.
The thorn who kissed him like she’d been waiting too.
---
He didn’t know what to do with that.
Wanting her was easy.
Naming it was harder.
---
The spiral pulsed faintly beneath his wrist.
Not flaring.
Just warm.
Just present.
Just waiting.
---
He didn’t believe in the marriage pact.
Not the way the council had written it.
Not the way the Accord had sealed it.
Not the way the wolves had been taught to obey it.
It was flicker.
It was fracture.
It was a system built on containment.
And Juniper Thornclaw did not belong in a system that asked her to surrender.
---
He didn’t want her that way.
He didn’t want her claimed.
He wanted her chosen.
---
Kieran entered without knocking.
He didn’t speak at first.
Just dropped a fresh stack of scrolls onto the table and leaned against the doorframe.
“You’re behind,” he said.
Jasper didn’t look up. “I know.”
Kieran crossed his arms. “You’re distracted.”
Jasper nodded. “Yes.”
Kieran raised a brow. “You going to do something about it?”
Jasper met his gaze. “I already did.”
---
Kieran blinked. “You kissed her?”
Jasper didn’t flinch. “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.
---
Later, Jasper walked the perimeter alone.
Not for patrol.
For clarity.
The spiral pulsed beneath his skin.
Not flaring.
Just warm.
Just steady.
Just hers.
---
He found her near the ash tree.
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t move.
She just stood with her hand pressed to the bark, eyes closed, spiral quiet beneath her collarbone.
Jasper didn’t interrupt.
He didn’t ask.
He just stood beside her.
Close enough to feel the rhythm.
Close enough to listen.
---
She opened her eyes.
Looked at him.
Didn’t flinch.
Jasper said, “I don’t believe in the pact.”
Juniper nodded. “Neither do I.”
He met her gaze. “But I believe in you.”
She didn’t smile.
But she didn’t walk away.
---
The spiral pulsed.
Not flaring.
Just warm.
Just chosen.
The war room was suffocating.
Scrolls piled high. Maps scattered. The blade from the Vault lay across the table, runes dim, spiral quiet. Jasper stared at it, but all he saw was her.
Juniper Thornclaw.
The thorn who stayed.
The thorn who kissed him back.
The thorn who didn’t flinch.
---
He pressed his palms against the table, head bowed, breath steady. He was supposed to be leading. He was supposed to be sharp. He was supposed to be the alpha who didn’t let proximity rewrite priority.
But she had rewritten everything.
Not with words.
Not with promises.
With silence.
With staying.
With choosing him back.
---
The marriage pact was flicker.
He knew it.
He felt it.
It was a system built on containment, on obedience, on rewriting wolves into symbols instead of people. It had never asked Juniper’s consent. It had never asked his. It had only demanded.
And Jasper Silverfang did not want her that way.
---
He wanted her chosen.
He wanted her sovereign.
He wanted her without the Accord’s ink binding her wrists.
---
Kieran entered again, arms crossed, expression sharp. “You’re still behind.”
Jasper didn’t look up. “I know.”
“You’re not leading.”
“I’m trying.”
Kieran stepped closer. “No. You’re feeling.”
Jasper finally met his gaze. “Yes.”
---
Kieran didn’t flinch.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t press.
He just said, “Then lead with that.”
---
Later, Jasper walked the perimeter alone.
The spiral pulsed beneath his wrist.
Not flaring.
Just warm.
Just steady.
Just hers.
---
He found her near the ash tree again.
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t move.
She just stood with her hand pressed to the bark, eyes closed, spiral quiet beneath her collarbone.
Jasper didn’t interrupt.
He didn’t ask.
He just stood beside her.
Close enough to feel the rhythm.
Close enough to listen.
---
She opened her eyes.
Looked at him.
Didn’t flinch.
Jasper said, “I don’t believe in the pact.”
Juniper nodded. “Neither do I.”
He met her gaze. “But I believe in you.”
She didn’t smile.
But she didn’t walk away.
---
The spiral pulsed.
Not flaring.
Just warm.
Just chosen.
He hadn’t expected her to stay.
Not after the kiss. Not after Rowan’s silence. Not after the spiral pulsed like it had been waiting for them all along. But she had. And now, every time Jasper tried to focus on the Accord, on the wolves, on the endless scrolls of logistics, he found himself circling back to her.
Juniper Thornclaw.
The thorn who didn’t flinch.
The thorn who kissed him back.
The thorn who refused to be claimed.
---
He sat alone in the war room, the blade from the Vault across the table, runes dim. The paperwork was scattered, half-finished, accusing him with its silence. He pressed his palms against the wood, head bowed, breath steady.
He was supposed to be leading.
He was supposed to be sharp.
He was supposed to be the alpha who didn’t let proximity rewrite priority.
But she had rewritten everything.
---
The marriage pact was flicker.
He knew it.
He felt it.
It was a system built on containment, on obedience, on rewriting wolves into symbols instead of people. It had never asked Juniper’s consent. It had never asked his. It had only demanded.
And Jasper Silverfang did not want her that way.
---
He wanted her chosen.
He wanted her sovereign.
He wanted her without the Accord’s ink binding her wrists.
---
Kieran entered again, arms crossed, expression sharp. “You’re still behind.”
Jasper didn’t look up. “I know.”
“You’re not leading.”
“I’m trying.”
Kieran stepped closer. “No. You’re feeling.”
Jasper finally met his gaze. “Yes.”
---
Kieran didn’t flinch.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t press.
He just said, “Then lead with that.”
---
Later, Jasper walked the perimeter alone.
The spiral pulsed beneath his wrist.
Not flaring.
Just warm.
Just steady.
Just hers.
---
He found her near the ash tree again.
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t move.
She just stood with her hand pressed to the bark, eyes closed, spiral quiet beneath her collarbone.
Jasper didn’t interrupt.
He didn’t ask.
He just stood beside her.
Close enough to feel the rhythm.
Close enough to listen.
---
She opened her eyes.
Looked at him.
Didn’t flinch.
Jasper said, “I don’t believe in the pact.”
Juniper nodded. “Neither do I.”
He met her gaze. “But I believe in you.”
She didn’t smile.
But she didn’t walk away.
---
The spiral pulsed.
Not flaring.
Just warm.
Just chosen.
---
Jasper 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 written.
---
It was her.
And she had stayed.
- Writer
