CHAPTER TWO — The Second Alpha
Lyra's POV
The wind howled across Moonstone Cliff, sharp and bitter, like it too was disgusted by what had just happened. It caught the edges of my sheer ceremonial robe, lifting it into the air like torn wings. I stood alone on the sacred ground humiliated, heart splintered, knees trembling while every wolf in attendance turned, one by one, toward the voice that had dared to break the silence.
"If Draven won't have her," the stranger repeated, voice low and deliberate, "then I will."
Gasps cracked through the gathering like thunder.
Even the High Priestess faltered, her mouth parting, hands frozen mid-blessing. She wasn't the only one.
Every alpha, every elder, every warrior present now shifted uncomfortably, scenting the tension in the air. not out of fear, not exactly. Something else. Something colder.
Power.
He stepped forward from the mist, cloaked in shadow and defiance, the edge of his long coat dragging over the marble floor like smoke trailing a wildfire. No crest adorned his chest. No wolves flanked him. No trumpets announced his name.
And yet… no one dared to stop him.
His presence alone bent the air around him, made the hairs on my arms rise. Wolves with twice his title had moved aside without thinking, as if their bodies understood what their pride refused to admit: he was not to be challenged.
Not tonight.
Not here.
He wasn't dressed like royalty. His black cloak was simple, almost worn, but the way it moved like it had weight, memory, purpose it made it feel sacred. His shoulders were broad, his build strong and sure, but it was the way he walked that stole the breath from my lungs. He moved like the ground submitted to him, like the wind turned in his favor, like gravity itself adjusted around him.
And then there were his eyes.
Gold. Not soft. Not warm.
Burning.
They locked onto mine the moment he emerged fully into view, and I felt them like a flame pressed just beneath my skin not enough to burn, but more than enough to leave a mark. He didn't look away. Didn't blink. He looked at me like I was the only one who existed in the ruins of this moment. Not the crowd. Not the High Priestess. Not even Draven.
Just me.
And gods help me… I couldn't look away.
"I don't recognize your crest," the High Priestess said warily, trying to regain control. Her voice trembled just slightly. "State your name and your right."
But he didn't even glance at her. He didn't raise his voice or puff his chest. He kept his eyes on me like the rest of the world was background noise and when he spoke, the words wrapped around my spine.
"Rowan," he said. "Alpha of the Ashfang Territories."
A collective breath was sucked from the crowd, and then… silence.
Even the wind stilled.
Ashfang.
The name hit harder than any title. It was a place spoken of in caution, a pack shrouded in mystery and blood. Located far north, beyond the Frost Ridges a land few dared enter and none returned from. A territory ruled without alliances, without mercy, without weakness. A ghost-pack, some called it. A death sentence, others.
No one knew what Ashfang's Alpha looked like.
Until now.
Until me.
A chill ran through me not from fear, but from something I couldn't name. Something that curled in my stomach and echoed in my bones. Something that felt like destiny… but darker.
Draven's voice sliced through the thick silence, sharp and livid.
"This is a sacred rejection," he growled, stepping toward me once more, fists clenched at his sides. "You don't get to stroll in and claim what doesn't belong to you."
Still, Rowan didn't flinch.
He didn't even look at him.
"She hasn't accepted your rejection," Rowan said calmly. "The bond is still intact."
The crowd stirred again. Whispers. Doubt. Excitement. I couldn't breathe.
"She's nothing," Draven spat. "No wolf. No scent. She barely qualifies as—"
"She's mine now."
Rowan's words dropped like a dagger into the earth.
That did it.
Even the fire in the ceremonial brazier bent in his direction, flickering toward him like it, too, was compelled.
Draven moved forward, brimming with fury, but even he hesitated before fully stepping into Rowan's path. I felt the shift in power between them like a thunderclap. Draven was all muscle and fury and bloodline . but Rowan? Rowan was composed, still, terrifying.
And far more dangerous.
The High Priestess raised her voice, trying desperately to maintain the order of the sacred space.
"Until the female speaks, the rejection is incomplete. The bond cannot be broken or claimed."
Everyone turned to me.
Suddenly, I was no longer invisible. I wasn't the joke in white anymore. I was the lightning rod between two alphas one who'd destroyed me and one who dared to pick up the pieces.
Draven turned, jaw clenched. "Say the words, Lyra. Accept it. End this."
My mouth opened.
But nothing came out.
Because something had shifted something inside me. Not just shame. Not just fear.
I could still feel Rowan's gaze on me. Calm. Commanding. Unmoving. He hadn't stepped closer, hadn't touched me. And yet, I could feel his presence wrapping around me like silk dipped in fire.
"You don't have to accept him," he said, voice low, meant for me alone. "You just have to decide who you belong to."
Belong.
The word shouldn't have moved me. Not after what I'd just been through. But it didn't feel like a threat. It felt like a choice. Like, for the first time in my life, I was the one being asked ,not fated. Asked.
And then… I caught it.
His scent.
Not sharp like Draven's. Not cold. Not cruel.
Rowan smelled of firewood, storm clouds, and something wild. Something ancient. Something that reminded me of forest floors and broken runes and stories older than the Goddess herself.
And my wolf… my wolf moved.
Not a growl. Not a howl. But movement. A twitch. A shiver. The smallest flicker of awareness. She hadn't done that not once, in all my years of waiting. Not even for Draven. But now… she was listening. Watching. Waking.
The crowd blurred around me.
My lungs were tight. My heart beat louder than the drums of the sacred chamber. And for the first time since I stepped onto this cursed cliff, I wasn't thinking about what I had lost.
I was thinking about what ,who, might be trying to awaken what was never truly broken in the first place.
Rowan hadn't moved.
But I had.
Something inside me had crossed a line I could never uncross.
And the worst ,or maybe best ,part of it?
I didn't want to go back.