He had smelled her before he had seen her.
The Alpha had been patrolling the edges of his territory, his massive frame blending seamlessly with the shadows of the forest. His pack ran free beneath the cover of night, but he kept to himself, a solitary guardian, restless and haunted.
Then he caught her scent.
Not just human. Not just woman. Power.
It was intoxicating, a mixture of smoke and wild roses, of lightning before a storm. It stirred something primal in him, something he thought long buried.
When he saw her unleash the roots upon the boy, he nearly revealed himself. Her magic had rippled through the ground, sharp and untamed, calling to him like a howl in the night.
He stepped closer, silent as a predator. His height—six feet and five inches of raw muscle and commanding presence—made him a towering shadow in the moonlight. His tan skin glistened faintly with sweat from the hunt, his long black dreadlocks brushing against his broad shoulders. His face, strikingly beautiful yet hard with battle, caught the silver of the moon.
And those eyes. Emerald fire.
She had no idea what she was. But he did.
A witch. A rare, untamed power. A woman who could either destroy or save everything he had built.
He should have turned away. He should have left her to her destiny. But something inside him snarled at the thought. She was his now. His witch.
And so, the Alpha wolf lingered in the shadows, watching her sob in the dirt, unaware that her fate had just entwined with his.