Chapter 8: The Alpha and the Storm

CAIUS

The moment Lira went still in my arms, Fenrir stirred within me, his presence a low hum in the back of my mind.

She’s afraid, Fenrir growled, his voice thick with both concern and irritation.

I didn’t need him to tell me that. I could feel the tension in her body, the way her heart pounded against her ribs, fast and frantic. Her fear was raw, palpable. It almost bled into me, a reminder of how fragile this situation truly was.

I sighed and loosened my grip just slightly. We’ll be stopping soon, I thought to him, trying to offer some semblance of reassurance—though I knew it would do little to calm her.

Her silence was maddening. She said nothing, but I could feel her emotions swirling. Discomfort. Anger. Frustration. Every breath she took seemed to carry a weight of resistance. It was strange, this closeness. The bond between us, unspoken but undeniable, tugged at me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. A pull, fierce and unrelenting. And yet... something was wrong.

Something isn’t right, Fenrir rumbled, unease lacing his tone. A wolf cannot be silent. Even if she rejects the bond, we should feel her. Feel her wolf, her essence.

I frowned, his words digging into the pit of my stomach. It was true—her wolf should have been here by now. Should have called to mine. But there was nothing. Then why don’t we?

Fenrir’s presence flickered, frustration building in the quiet space between us. That is what we must find out, Alpha. The bond should be whole. But it is not.

I didn’t answer immediately. I couldn’t. I had no explanation for it. All I knew was that she was mine—our bond was something written in the stars, a force neither of us could ignore. Yet here she was, a puzzle that didn’t fit.

I glanced down at her, her face turned away, silver-blonde hair stirring in the night wind. Even in the moonlight, she looked fragile, exhausted, and yet... dangerous. I could feel it, the quiet strength she held beneath all that anger and fear.

Ours, Fenrir whispered in my mind, the word slipping out as if in reverence. Even if she fights it, she will be ours.

The thought unsettled me. I had always been in control. My pack, my wolves, my territory—all of it had bent to my will. But Lira? She was different. Strong-willed. Independent. She wasn’t the type to submit, not to anyone, least of all to me.

And, despite the chaos she brought into my world, part of me didn’t want her to.

The silence stretched on between us, and I couldn’t help but notice how much it bothered me. I wasn’t used to uncertainty—not in the way I was with Lira. It was a weakness, and it was one I would have to fight, or it would destroy me.

---

By dawn, we reached the small outpost hidden deep within the mountains.

The first light of morning crept slowly over the horizon, painting the snow with soft hues of pink and lavender. The cold air bit at my skin as I dismounted, the crisp scent of pine and fresh snow filling my lungs. I glanced back at Lira, still slumped against the saddle, her pale face drawn with exhaustion. She had barely moved since we’d left, her body stiff with anger and, I suspected, pain.

I reached for her.

The moment my hand brushed the small of her back, she jerked away, her movements sharp and quick.

I can get down myself, she snapped, her voice laced with venom.

I stepped back, watching as she steadied herself on the horse. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she refused to show weakness, her pride fighting to keep her standing. I almost admired that, though it only made her more difficult to control.

As she tried to dismount, her legs faltered. For a moment, I thought she might fall, but I moved without thinking, my hand outstretched to catch her arm.

Her silver-blue eyes shot up at me, fury in them. “Don’t touch me,” she spat, her voice low but full of threat.

I let go immediately, her words hanging in the air like a challenge.

You should have been more careful, Fenrir muttered in my mind, though his tone lacked the usual bite. She’s a warrior, not a lamb. Don’t underestimate her.

I ignored him, my focus remaining entirely on Lira. Despite everything, despite the anger she was radiating, I couldn’t help but notice how… striking she was. Her eyes glinted with defiance, but there was something more—something deeper, a sadness she tried to hide.

Before I could move toward her again, Elias approached, his voice calm and professional. "Alpha, the perimeter is secure."

I nodded, giving him a brief acknowledgment before my attention returned to Lira. She was still glaring at me, her posture rigid, but now, I saw the slight tremor in her hands, the way she gripped the collar of her cloak tightly.

“Inside,” I ordered, my voice firm. "Now."

Her eyes flashed with resentment, but she didn’t argue. She turned away, her boots crunching against the snow as she stalked toward the entrance of the shelter, her back straight and proud, even in the face of everything.

She’s furious, Fenrir observed with a dry laugh. You’ll have to deal with that.

I didn’t answer, but his words stung. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She wasn’t going to yield. Not now. Not ever.

As I followed her into the shelter, the storm brewing in her eyes told me everything I needed to know: this wasn’t over.

This was only the beginning.

The tension in the air was thick, and it settled over me like a shadow. Whatever came next, I wasn’t sure I was prepared for it—but I had no choice. She was mine, bound by fate and prophecy, and I would make her see that.

No matter how long it took.

You will make her see, Fenrir mused, his tone thoughtful. But remember, Caius—she is not like the others. She is not easily bent to your will.

I clenched my jaw, the weight of his words heavy in my chest. I don’t need her to bend. I just need her to understand.

The world outside was quiet, save for the wind, but inside, it was a storm waiting to break.

And it would break soon.