The Alpha’s Outlaw Luna

Chapter 9 – The Alpha’s Alarm

The whiteout hits like a punch to the skull.

For a heartbeat I’m nowhere and everywhere—smoke, chalk, a stranger’s scream, the reek of burning circles—and then it all slams into one point behind my sternum and detonates.

I stagger, palm hitting glass.

“Callum?” Selene’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. “You’re pale. Pale‑r.”

We’re in my office. We were—seconds ago—reviewing a shipment report. Now the numbers on the screen swim, meaningless behind the pounding in my head.

Something has latched onto the bond web inside my chest and yanked.

Not the smooth, constant pressure of the ritual with Selene. This is jagged, wild, ripping across nerves Crescent never had a right to touch.

“Circle blowout,” I rasp, before I can think better of it.

Selene goes very still. “Where?”

I drag in a breath, lean harder into the window, and let my wolf do what she was born for: track.

Smoke. Port wind. Kid‑fear. And under it—a note I know better than my own.

Mara.

Except it’s not her directly. It’s something using the echo between us as a wire.

“Docks,” I say. “Industrial side. One of the compliance sites.”

Selene crosses the room, grip like iron on my forearm as she shoves her own senses into the mess. The bond between us vibrates, overlaid by a new, ugly frequency.

“Crescent’s signature,” she says through her teeth. “They’re using your pattern as a stabilizer. On someone else.”

Of course they are.

The tug flares again—panic, suffocation, a burnt‑sugar ache I remember from the ritual floor—then skids sideways, splitting down two paths at once.

One hooks toward the tower—toward me.

The other whips sideways, like it’s trying to catch something else on the way out.

Someone.

“Report,” Selene snaps, letting go of me to grab her phone. “Now.”

The intercom crackles. “Security says we’ve got a magical surge at the Larkhaven Maritime Compliance annex,” Kael’s voice barks. Harsh, breathless. “Circles blew on site. We’ve got injuries, possible fatalities. And—”

He cuts off with a sharp curse.

“Kael?” I demand. “Status.”

Static. Then: “This isn’t just them, Callum. There’s… something riding the pattern. It jumped when the circle failed. I felt it grab you from here.”

My heart stutters.

He shouldn’t be able to feel that.

Unless the third layer Crescent slid into my bond isn’t just a leash—it’s a conduit.

I straighten, fingers leaving streaks on the glass.

“Patch me through to site audio,” I order.

There’s a click. A rush of chaotic sound floods the office: wolves snarling, humans shouting, alarms wailing. Under it all, a low, broken keening, like someone’s trying not to scream.

Then a voice I haven’t heard in three years cuts through the noise, ragged and furious.

“Get him out of the circle!” Mara yells. “Now, or I swear I’ll—”

The feed snaps, replaced by a high, knife‑sharp whine that makes my vision blur. Selene swears, slapping the speaker off.

For a second, all I can hear is my own breathing.

“She’s there,” I say, stupidly. “At the annex.”

Selene looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “Yes. And if you go down there as Ronan’s obedient son, Aric and Crescent will wrap this in non‑disclosure and call it a regrettable incident.”

She steps closer, eyes flint.

“If you go as what you just felt?” she says. “As the heir they thought they’d leashed and the wolf she refuses to let them own?”

Her mouth curves in a humorless smile.

“Then this is your opening.”

I don’t hesitate.

“Get Kael on full tactical,” I say, already heading for the door. “Notify Lyra I’m authorizing emergency Overrides on all Crescent‑linked protocols in port jurisdiction.”

Selene arches a brow. “And Ronan?”

My wolf bares her teeth.

“He can file a complaint,” I say. “After I pull his partners out of my city.”

In my chest, the residue of the circle’s failed grab still hums.

Beneath it, faint but real, the echo of Mara’s anger buzzes along the half‑bond they tried to erase.

I follow it out of the office and into the hall, toward the elevators, the docks, and the girl we both thought we’d learned to live without.