The pack noticed before Aiden did.
It wasn't one single thing—no dramatic announcement or ceremonial gathering—but a shift. A pressure in the air. A scent that no longer faded no matter how far he walked from Theron's side.
Claimed.
The word followed him like a shadow.
Aiden felt it the moment he stepped out of the healer's den for the first time since the marking. The morning air was crisp, winter finally loosening its grip, frost melting into damp earth. Normally, this was when the pack bustled—wolves shifting, laughter sharp, arguments louder than needed.
Today, the clearing went quiet.
Not silent. Just… aware.
Eyes lifted. Conversations stalled mid-sentence. Wolves who would normally brush past him now paused, ears twitching, noses flaring as his scent reached them.
Aiden's jaw tightened.
He hated being looked at. Hated being measured.
But this was different from before. This wasn't dismissal or disdain.
This was recognition.
A young beta lowered her head as he passed.
An older alpha stepped aside without realizing he'd done it.
Aiden's wolf stirred, not anxious—steady. Grounded. It didn't bare its teeth or bristle. It simply existed, solid and unmovable, as if it had always known this day would come.
You're seen, the wolf seemed to murmur. And you're not prey.
Whispers followed him anyway.
He caught fragments as he walked.
"—real claim, I smelled it—"
"—Moon-marked, not just alpha—"
"—no wonder the King—"
"—that omega survived Evelyn—"
Aiden's fingers curled at his side.
Omega.
The word still scraped, even now. Even claimed. Even loved.
But when he glanced down at his wrist—at the faint imprint of Theron's thumb still bruised into memory, not skin—his chest steadied.
Theron hadn't marked him to cage him.
He'd marked him to stand beside him.
Across the clearing, Theron emerged from the council hall.
The effect was immediate.
Wolves straightened. Spines aligned. Alphas who had once challenged his authority bowed their heads without thinking. Theron didn't need to raise his voice or bare his power—the bond did it for him.
His gaze found Aiden instantly.
Gold locked onto blue.
The bond hummed.
Not possessive. Not demanding.
There you are.
Aiden felt heat rise to his face and scowled, annoyed at himself more than anything else. He shifted his weight, crossing his arms, trying to look unimpressed.
Theron smiled anyway—slow, knowing, devastating.
And the whispers exploded.
"That look—"
"They didn't even hide it—"
"The King never—"
"He's smiling—"
Aiden shot a glare toward the nearest cluster of eavesdroppers. They scattered like startled birds.
Theron approached him, stopping just close enough that their shoulders brushed. Not touching—never crowding—but undeniably together.
"You're walking too fast," Theron murmured.
Aiden snorted. "You're walking too slow."
A beat.
Theron leaned in slightly, voice low enough that only Aiden could hear. "They're afraid of you."
That stopped him.
Aiden frowned. "They shouldn't be."
"They aren't afraid you'll hurt them," Theron said gently. "They're afraid because you survived me. Survived her. Survived yourself."
Aiden swallowed.
Beyond the pack borders, the wind shifted.
Scents carried farther now—his, Theron's, intertwined. Wolves from neighboring territories would smell it soon. Alphas would notice. Rogues would whisper. Gods might lift their heads.
The world was noticing.
And it wouldn't look away again.
Aiden exhaled slowly, then squared his shoulders.
"Let them talk," he said. "I'm done hiding."
Theron's hand brushed his lower back—warm, grounding, there.
"That," Theron said, pride threading his voice, "is exactly why they're afraid."
And somewhere beyond the trees, far past the pack's borders, something ancient stirred—drawn by the scent of a bond the world had not seen in centuries
The first outsider arrived at dusk.
Aiden felt it before he saw it—the subtle shift in the wind, the way the forest seemed to hold its breath. His wolf lifted its head inside him, ears pricking, not alarmed but alert.
Alpha, it murmured.
Theron felt it too. He stilled beside Aiden, golden eyes narrowing toward the treeline. "They're early," he said calmly.
"Who?" Aiden asked, though some part of him already knew.
"Other kings," Theron answered. "Other alphas."
The scent hit moments later—foreign dominance, sharp and territorial, layered with curiosity and caution. Not an attack. Not yet. A test.
Three figures emerged from the trees, human-shaped but wrong around the edges in the way only alphas were. Power clung to them like static.
The lead alpha—a tall man with iron-gray hair and scarred knuckles—stopped short the moment his gaze landed on Aiden.
His nostrils flared.
The change was instant.
Aiden felt it like a ripple through the clearing: surprise, then calculation… then something colder.
Respect.
Fear.
The alpha dipped his head—not to Theron.
To Aiden.
Aiden stiffened, instinct screaming for him to bare his teeth, to fight the wrongness of it. He'd never been bowed to before. Never been acknowledged like this.
Theron did not intervene.
That, Aiden realized, was deliberate.
"You claimed," the visiting alpha said slowly, eyes never leaving Aiden. "And he accepted."
"Yes," Theron replied evenly.
The alpha's gaze flicked to Theron then—measuring, wary. "Your bond is… loud."
Aiden bristled. "I'm standing right here."
The alpha startled, clearly not expecting him to speak.
Theron smiled faintly.
"Good," Theron said. "Then you'll hear this clearly: Aiden is not my weakness."
A low murmur passed between the visiting alphas.
"He smells like war," one muttered. "And survival."
Another frowned. "And the Moon."
Silence followed that.
The lead alpha straightened. "Our packs are already talking. They're asking why the Moon-King chose an omega—"
Aiden stepped forward before Theron could speak.
"I was a beta," Aiden said sharply. "I was a warrior. I've bled for my pack, and I'll do it again if needed. My designation doesn't make me fragile."
The alpha studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. "No," he said. "It doesn't."
That acknowledgment carried weight. A promise and a warning wrapped together.
When the visiting alphas finally left, the clearing exhaled.
Aiden hadn't realized how tense he'd been until his knees threatened to give.
Theron's hand was at his back instantly—steady, grounding, careful of the healer's warning. "Easy," he murmured. "You did well."
"I didn't mean to sound—"
"Defiant?" Theron interrupted softly. "Good. They needed to hear it from you."
As night settled, the pack gathered—not formally, but instinctively. Wolves lingered closer. Betas offered food without being asked. Even the more aggressive alphas kept their distance, eyes lowered, voices careful.
Aiden noticed everything.
How no one blocked his path anymore.
How challenges died before they reached him.
How fear followed him—but not the kind that made him smaller.
The kind that respected teeth.
Ronan found him near the fire later, arms crossed, studying him with open curiosity. "You realize," he said lightly, "half the surrounding territories are going to think twice before starting anything now."
Aiden frowned. "Because of Theron."
Ronan shook his head. "Because of you."
Aiden looked away, unsettled.
"I don't want them scared of me."
Ronan's expression softened. "They're not scared you'll hurt them. They're scared because you survived being broken—and came back stronger. Wolves understand that."
Aiden swallowed.
Across the fire, Theron watched him—not possessively, not proudly.
Reverently.
That unsettled Aiden more than the fear ever could.
Because respect could be endured.
But being seen like this—being valued—was dangerous.
Later that night, as Aiden lay beside Theron, sore and warm and aching in ways that hadn't faded yet, he whispered, "They're going to keep watching me, aren't they?"
"Yes," Theron answered honestly.
"Judging."
"Yes."
Aiden exhaled. "I don't know if I can be what they expect."
Theron turned slightly, pressing his forehead to Aiden's. "Good," he murmured. "Because I didn't claim you to meet expectations."
Aiden's wolf settled fully then, curling close to Theron's presence, no longer pacing, no longer afraid.
Outside the den, the world whispered.
Other alphas noticed.
The balance shifted.
And for the first time, Aiden wasn't standing in anyone's shadow.
He was standing in the light—and the world was learning to be careful about how it looked at him