The night after the binding was heavy with silence, as though the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what its new Alpha would do. Lily had barely slept. Her dreams were tangled with whispers she couldn't name, shadows she couldn't chase away. But morning brought no peace. Morning brought a challenge.
The howl tore through the valley just as dawn bled across the horizon. Deep, guttural, threaded with dominance — the unmistakable call of another Alpha. Alec stiffened beside her, his sharp eyes already scanning the ridges. "They've crossed our border," he said.
By the time they reached the northern clearing, the rival pack was waiting. Their Alpha stepped forward, a hulking beast with scars carved deep into his muzzle, his fur streaked with gray and war. His wolves fanned out behind him, snarling, their paws pressing into soil that was not theirs to claim.
"This land is weak," the stranger growled, voice carrying across the field. "Your Caleb is dead. A girl cannot lead Silver Pine. Yield, and we will spare your pack."
A hiss rippled through Lily's wolves. Fear — not for themselves, but for her. She felt it in the bond, in the way they looked to her with silent questions: Can you carry this? Will you hold us?
Her own fear knifed through her ribs, sharp and unrelenting. The forest heard it too — she could feel the pines tremble, the soil shift beneath her feet. But then, like the touch of a steady hand, the bond pressed back. Strength. Roots. A reminder that she was not alone.
She stepped forward. The rival Alpha's sneer widened, expecting hesitation, weakness. Instead, Lily's howl split the air.
It was not the cry of a girl. It was the song of the land itself — the rush of rivers, the shiver of wind through centuries-old trees, the heartbeat of wolves who had run these woods long before her. It carried Caleb's echo. It carried every Alpha before him.
The rival wolves recoiled. Even their Alpha faltered, eyes wide with something he had not expected: fear.
"You will not take this land," Lily said, her voice low, steady, iron-wrapped. "Not while I breathe. Not while Silver Pine stands."
The earth shuddered beneath her words. A root cracked through the soil at her feet, coiling like a serpent, alive with the forest's pulse. The rival Alpha snarled once, a sound more desperate than defiant — and then he turned. His wolves followed, retreating into the shadows of the ridge.
Only when the clearing was empty did Lily let her shoulders sag. Alec's hand brushed hers — just a touch, nothing more, but enough to remind her she was still herself, still Lily.
But the forest had made its choice clear. She was Alpha.