Lucien gave a slow nod. "The scent markers were faint but unmistakable. The same pack that's been trying to expand north for the past decade."
Rowan's jaw tightened. "They're ambitious, cruel, and secretive. If he came from there…"
"Then he's either a victim, or a loose end," Lucien finished quietly.
Rowan leaned forward slightly. "What do you plan to do with him, Alpha?"
Lucien's eyes lifted, sharp and thoughtful. "For now, nothing."
"Nothing?"
Lucien turned back to the window, watching the moonlight spill over the pack's training grounds below. "He's under my roof. My son has grown attached to him, and I can't ignore that bond. Whatever he is, his presence calms the boy. That alone makes him useful."
Rowan hesitated, then asked in a quieter tone, "And if he's a threat?"
Lucien's lips curved faintly, not a smile, but the edge of one. "Then I'll handle him myself."
The Beta studied him for a long moment, sensing there was more beneath the Alpha's calm. "You've felt it too, haven't you?"
Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly. "What?"
"The pull," Rowan said quietly. "That strange tension when you're near him. It's faint, but… unnatural. Even for you."
Lucien didn't answer. His hand clenched once against the window frame before he forced it to relax.
"Whatever it is," he murmured, voice low and controlled, "I will not let it rule me."
He turned then, his gaze cool and sharp again, the mask of command slipping neatly back into place. "Keep an eye on him. Discreetly. No one else is to know about Redstone, not even the boy."
Rowan nodded, his expression grim. "Understood."
As the Beta left the office, Lucien remained standing alone, the moonlight outlining the faint scar that crossed his knuckles, a mark of battles long past. He looked out over his territory once more, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
A rogue with no pack. A child who wouldn't let go. And a bond that felt too… familiar.
Lucien's hand brushed over his chest where his heart beat, slow and steady, but with a pulse that wasn't entirely his own.
"Who are you, Devon Albert?" he murmured into the quiet.
After a few more days of rest and the careful tending of the pack healers, Devon finally regained enough strength to stand on his own. His body was still frail, bandaged from shoulder to waist, and pain lingered in every breath, but he no longer felt the weight of death hovering over him.
The healers told him he had survived something that should have killed him. Devon only gave them a small, tired smile. He didn't tell them that he had wanted to die.
When the Alpha's attendant came with the offer to stay and work as the young heir's caretaker, Devon hesitated for a long while. He wasn't used to being offered a choice, let alone a home. But when he saw the boy again, the same child who had clung to him and refused to let go, something inside Devon softened.
So he bowed his head and accepted.
"I'll do my best," he said quietly, his voice rough from disuse.
From that day forward, Devon began his role within the Ravenmoon Pack's great mansion, though he still felt like an outsider among them.
His mornings began early. The servants were already bustling about by dawn, preparing the household for the day. Devon helped the little boy, whom everyone respectfully called Young Master Elias, with his meals, dressed him, and accompanied him in the courtyard for lessons and playtime.
Elias was bright, gentle, and far too attached to him. Wherever Devon went, small hands would tug at his sleeve or clutch his shirt hem. The boy's laughter filled the empty halls, and though Devon rarely smiled, he found himself watching over him with quiet care.
But something felt… strange about the place.
The Ravenmoon mansion wasn't like anything Devon had ever seen. Its architecture blended the ancient stone with shimmering enchantments that breathed faint light into the walls. The chandeliers floated in midair, glowing with soft golden fire.
Cleaning tools moved on their own, brooms swept floors, and dishes washed themselves with a wave of a servant's hand. Even the clocks ticked without gears, powered by what the servants called aether runes.
Magic...
Devon had heard of it, of course, whispered legends from older wolves about humans or mixed-bloods who could channel energy beyond the moon's blessing. But in Redstone, such things were forbidden. Power outside of a wolf's strength was considered impure, punishable by death.
Here, it seemed normal.
He often caught himself staring, mesmerized, as a maid made a cup of tea float from tray to table, or as the gardener coaxed flowers to bloom in midwinter with a flick of glowing fingers. No one seemed to notice his awe, or perhaps they did, and simply chose not to comment.
The servants treated him with polite distance. They didn't insult or question him, but they also didn't speak more than necessary. When Devon passed by, he could hear their whispers die down, replaced by cautious silence. He didn't blame them. He was, after all, a rogue, a former exile.
Days passed quietly, the Alpha nowhere in sight. Devon only heard rumors that Lucien Hale was a man of iron will, ruling not through cruelty, but through sheer authority. Some said he was a war hero. Others claimed he was cursed, that the moon spirits themselves had bound his power after a blood-soaked battle.
Devon didn't care much for rumors. He had his work, and that was enough.
The Beta, Rowan, was equally elusive. Devon occasionally caught sight of him from afar, speaking with guards or giving quiet orders, but the man never addressed him directly.
Sometimes, Devon wondered if the Alpha even remembered his existence.
He told himself that was for the best. He didn't want attention. He didn't want recognition. He only wanted to fade quietly into this borrowed peace, to live one more day without pain, without chains, without fear. And yet… every night, when he looked out through the mansion windows toward the silver-lit forest, his chest tightened with a familiar ache.
He was still an exile. No pack mark. No bond. No home that truly belonged to him. And somewhere deep inside, something stirred, faint and heavy, as if a part of him knew this fragile peace wouldn't last forever.