The Alpha Who Should Not Exist
The howl cut through the forest like a blade.
It was not a normal howl.
It did not belong to a patrol or a lone wolf calling for its mate.
It was deep. Commanding. Ancient.
Every wolf within miles froze.
I felt it before I heard it.
A pressure slammed into my chest, heavy and suffocating, as if the night itself had turned its gaze toward me.
My steps faltered.
The forest around me went silent. No insects. No rustling leaves. Even the wind seemed to retreat.
My wolf stirred violently beneath my skin.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"No," I whispered, clutching my cloak tighter as the moonlight filtered through the towering trees. "That's impossible."
He was dead.
That was what the pack believed.
That was what I had been told since I was a child.
The Alpha of the North Ridge.
The White Death.
The wolf who disappeared during the Blood Moon massacre.
And yet, my wolf answered the howl with a low, instinctive pull that made my knees weak.
I forced myself to move.
I could not turn back.
I would not return to the pack that had cast me aside like broken glass.
Branches scratched my arms as I pushed deeper into the forest, my breath uneven. The scent in the air shifted, sharp and metallic, layered with pine and something darker.
Blood.
Fresh.
My heart pounded harder as another sound reached my ears. Not a howl this time, but voices. Male. Angry. Armed.
Rogues.
I cursed under my breath and slowed my steps, crouching behind a fallen tree. Through the undergrowth, I spotted them. Four wolves in human form, circling something on the forest floor.
A body.
No.
A man.
He was on one knee, shirt torn, blood soaking into the earth beneath him. Silver cuffs glinted around his wrists, etched with runes meant to suppress a wolf's power.
Yet even restrained, his presence was overwhelming.
White hair streaked with blood clung to his forehead. His eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, not gold, not blue, but something colder.
Moonlight silver.
"Still breathing," one of the rogues sneered, nudging him with his boot. "You North Ridge dogs are hard to kill."
The man lifted his head slowly.
When his gaze met mine through the trees, my breath stopped.
The world tilted.
The pull was instant. Violent. Unmistakable.
Mate.
My wolf howled inside me, crashing against my ribs with desperate force.
Impossible.
I had been rejected.
My bond had been severed.
And yet, my soul recognized his before my mind could catch up.
The rogue leader laughed. "What are you staring at, monster?"
The man smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
"You should not have touched her land," he said calmly.
The air exploded.
Even bound, he moved faster than sight. One rogue hit the ground with a sickening crack before he could scream. Another flew backward as if struck by an invisible wall.
I did not think. I acted.
Power surged through me, wild and white hot. The mark on my wrist burned as I stepped from the shadows.
"Get away from him," I said.
All eyes snapped toward me.
The rogues stared, startled. Then one of them laughed.
"A lone she wolf?" he scoffed. "Pretty thing too. Must be your lucky night."
The man's eyes darkened.
"No," he said softly. "It is yours that just ended."
The rogues lunged.
I raised my hand.
The ground beneath them cracked.
White light burst from my palm, slamming into the nearest rogue and throwing him into a tree with bone shattering force. The others froze in horror.
"A witch?" one gasped.
"No," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "A Luna."
The word carried power.
The forest answered.
Roots burst from the soil, wrapping around their legs and arms, dragging them screaming into the earth. Their cries were cut short as the forest reclaimed them.
Silence fell again.
I swayed, the sudden drain of energy making my vision blur. Before I could fall, strong arms caught me.
Heat. Strength. Safety.
The man held me as if he had done so a thousand times before.
"Easy," he murmured. "I've got you."
I looked up at him, my fingers gripping his torn shirt.
"Who are you?" I demanded, though my wolf already knew.
He studied my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
"You should not be here," he said instead. "This forest is dangerous."
"So is bleeding out," I shot back, glancing at the silver cuffs. "Let me help you."
He hesitated. Just for a second.
Then he nodded.
I pressed my fingers against the runes etched into the metal, whispering words I had never been taught yet somehow understood. The cuffs cracked, then shattered, falling uselessly to the ground.
The moment his power was unleashed, the night bowed.
He straightened slowly, towering over me, his aura fully released now. Alpha pressure rolled outward in waves that would have forced any lesser wolf to kneel.
I remained standing.
His eyes widened.
"A White Luna," he breathed. "I thought your line was extinct."
"I was told the same about you," I replied.
A shadow crossed his face.
"The pack erased my name," he said. "As they did yours."
Something cold settled in my chest.
"What is your name?" I asked.
He held my gaze.
"Lucien," he said. "Lucien Blackthorn. Alpha of North Ridge."
The name echoed through me like a prophecy fulfilled.
Lucien took a step closer.
"Tell me, White Luna," he said quietly. "Why does your soul call to mine?"
I swallowed.
"Because I was rejected," I said. "Cast out. Broken."
His jaw tightened.
"No mate of mine is broken," he said with dangerous certainty.
Mate.
The word wrapped around my heart like a vow.
Before I could respond, distant howls echoed through the forest. Patrols. Pack wolves.
Lucien's gaze hardened.
"They are coming for you," he said. "If they see what you are, they will never stop hunting you."
I lifted my chin.
"Let them try."
A slow smile curved his lips.
"Good," he said. "Then come with me. The world has forgotten what a true Alpha and Luna can do together."
I hesitated only a heartbeat.
Then I took his hand.
And the moon burned brighter than it had in a hundred years.