Chapter 3 : The New Alpha

*Shawn*

“You know, one of the perks of being Alpha is that you can choose where and even if you still want to do patrol runs.” Aaron’s voice is slightly breathless, betraying just how seriously he’s been taking his training lately: as in, not at all. “Seriously, Shawn, if we’re going to be running around this stretch of the woods, can’t we just do it in our wolf forms instead?”

I click my tongue. Of course, he’d suggest that. Our wolf forms have significantly more endurance than our human ones. But I needed this run. I needed to rediscover my limits and push myself past what I thought I could handle.

The terrain running through this unclaimed area just outside of our pack territory provides just the sort of rocky ground, steep inclines, and lack of shelter from the sun overhead to do just that. I brought Aaron with me because I know that he’s been slacking and needs the challenge. And honestly, he’s one of the few people I like just a little bit more than my own solitude.

Those are few and far between.

“Maybe if you weren’t slacking off, you wouldn’t be dying on a patrol run,” I reply, not slowing my pace as he laughs hoarsely beside me.

“Listen, we were technically all having a breather. No one was training. Well, except you, of course. Not everyone else’s fault you’re a masochist,” he shoots back.

“I think the term you’re looking for is ‘practical’.” I vaguely recall the last few weeks.

My father’s death caught everyone by surprise. We knew that he was sick, but we all still had hope that he would heal. And even though I’d technically undergone all the training I needed to be his heir since before I was old enough to hunt, I still felt thrown off-kilter at the loss.

It was like a part of me had been gouged out. But I couldn’t let myself fall apart like everyone else. I know everyone is still grieving. I can’t afford to, not now when the pack is still so vulnerable and there are opportunists looking to steal or destroy whatever my father’s death has left behind.

The pressure’s been mounting, with everyone in Ashborne turning to me for answers. The expectation and weight of responsibility are so heavy that some days I’m terrified that I can’t carry it. But then I think of our former Alpha and how he built this pack from nothing, how he forged a path for so many to find a home here, and I know that I can’t let it crush me.

Some days though, I just need to get away.

Aaron’s right. I don’t technically need to do these patrol runs, and doing them as a wolf would be much easier. But I don’t need easy, I need distraction.

“Look, I’m just gonna run up ahead. You can circle back if you want,” I tell him.

He looks at me for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nah, you can go ahead and I’ll join you eventually. Just give me a minute to catch my breath. Plus, I think you need to run solo for a bit anyway.”

I nod in gratitude before picking up the pace and pushing myself up the gradual rise of uneven ground.

If anyone understands me, it’s my best friend. But there are things even Aaron doesn't get, regardless of how many years we’ve been friends or how close we’ve grown. He doesn’t feel about the woods the way I do. A run through these trails doesn’t free him the way it frees me, doesn’t give him a sense of control as everything outside of the rushing green foliage at his sides strips away all of the stress of the pack.

I could spend hours doing this. But I only have one and I need to make it count.

I let all thoughts of my father, all feelings of grief, loss, and pain, and all the millions of reminders of things that need to be done fade into nothingness. My feet don’t twist over the rocks or the burrows. My muscles ache with exertion, but I love the way it feels.

By the time I stop, my hair is matted to my forehead with sweat, it’s not my body that forces it but my senses — specifically, my sense of smell. The unmistakable metallic scent of blood floods my nose. I look around, trying to see where the source could possibly be.

In the area I’ve stopped in, the trees aren’t as sparse and the rocks are larger so there are hiding places for predators and dead bodies alike. Just from scent alone, the amount of blood that’s been spilled must have resulted in someone’s death.

Instinct immediately kicks in.

I’m alert, my limbs primed to spring and my eyes scanning the expanse of the terrain around me. I’m careful to observe the entirety of my surroundings, careful to make sure I can’t be overtaken from my blindside if this is somehow a trap.

I move slowly and with intention toward the smell, letting it lead me as it grows stronger. Then I see her.

Lying just a way off, in a shadowed copse of trees, is a girl. A shifter.

Even from where I’m standing, I can see that she’s naked. Because of the nature of the shift, we aren’t shamed by nudity the way humans are. But as I approach, I almost falter in my steps anyway, not because she’s exposed but because of the severity of her injuries.

She’s covered in blood, with open gashes from teeth and claw marks covering most of her body. There’s no way this wasn’t a calculated attack. Whoever did this wanted her dead.

She stirs.

Her movements are small, strained. But they’re deliberate, as though she’s trying to show anyone watching that she’s still alive. She’s lying on her side, trying to move her hands in the dirt as though she can drag herself forward.

My stomach drops when I think of the pain she must be in.

It would be cruel to leave her to die this way, a slow torture that I can’t imagine anyone could possibly deserve. I don’t know her, but I still feel the obligation to put her out of her misery.

But as I settle on my decision, her mouth opens and a small groan escapes her. She’s trying to speak and I strain my ears to listen.

“Please,” she says in a desperate whisper. The word is barely intelligible but I hear it nonetheless, and something about the way she’s saying it with the very last of her strength seems to make it sound louder. “Please.”

She’s continuing to try to crawl and I know that she isn’t begging for death, but I’m still uncertain until her eyes flutter open, for just a second.

They’re an odd hazel with the woods around her making them seem an almost vibrant green despite her proximity to death, and I know that I can’t bring myself to kill her even in kindness. There’s a defiance there, a refusal to die. I can’t dishonor that.

I take a deep breath, knowing this is probably stupid, knowing that she’s a stranger and I’m not at liberty to be taking chances like this, but knowing I’m going to do so anyway.

I lean down and try to scoop her into my arms as gently as I can. I’m careful not to aggravate any of her wounds, but she seems to have passed out, only her faint but steady heartbeat letting me know that she’s still alive.

Her blood stains my shirt, but I don’t care.

Instead, I begin the journey back and try to think about how I’m going to rationalize this to the rest of the pack.

I’m fatigued from the run, but I force myself to maintain my speed, knowing that she won’t make it if I don’t get her to our medics as soon as possible. Aaron is still approaching, his body language visibly shocked even from a far distance when he sees the girl in my arms and the blood everywhere.

Then he’s rushing toward me, looking stupefied.

“Shawn, what’s going —” he begins.

“I don’t know what happened. I just know that I found her there and that I couldn’t leave her to die,” I interrupt.

Aaron looks like he wants to say something but chooses not to, most likely saving his thoughts for discussion back home.

***

“What were you thinking?” Aaron’s practically yelling, pacing up and down outside of the medical ward.

I’m leaning against the wall, looking through the glass panel of the closed door where I can see Vanessa sleeping. Amara had her cleaned up and her wounds tended to in record time, true to her reputation as one of the pack’s best healers.

I hope that Vanessa manages to get some rest after her ordeal. When I spoke to her earlier, I wanted to ask her about how she ended up more than half-dead in the woods a decent distance from any pack territory.

But she looked so … fragile. So vulnerable. The last thing I wanted to end up doing was remind her of her situation before she even had a chance to heal properly. But even despite her weakness, those eyes remained resolute. Stubborn. Challenging.

I could hardly explain how that look in her eyes was partly responsible for why I’d dragged a stranger into our compound. Aaron would never let me live it down.

“Shawn! Are you even listening to me, man?” He puts a hand on my shoulder and shakes it wildly. “This isn’t a joke. We have no idea who she is or what pack she’s come from. For all we know this could be some kind of elaborate set-up from one of the Alphas looking to absorb Ashborne into their own pack.”

“How exactly would anyone outside of our pack have known we’d be on that patrol route today? It was a spontaneous decision. Unless you’re suggesting a rat within our own ranks,” I say.

Aaron rubs a hand over his face in frustration. “No, obviously not. That’s a good point actually.”

“She was dying, Aaron. I couldn’t leave her there.”

“I know that. Amara told me how messed up she was,” he says thoughtfully.

I give him a look.

Aaron isn’t the closed-book he seems to think he is. It’s hardly a secret to anyone with eyes and ears that he has a thing for Amara. Even just speaking about her, his eyes light up in a way they don’t with anyone else.

“Amara told you about her patient?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. I resist the urge to smile at the blush that grazes the tops of his ears.

“Well, I mean … yeah, she did, but it’s not like … It isn’t …” he flounders, and I decide to throw him a boon.

“Look, I understand your concerns.” In fact, I understand his concerns more than I understand the unknown reasons behind my stupid actions. “But you have to trust me. I’m keeping her under observation while she’s healing. As is, she’s hardly in a position to hurt anyone.”

Aaron folds his arms. “You’re putting her under Amara’s supervision?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

Something in my voice must give him pause because he doesn’t respond immediately. “I just think it shouldn’t be up to a medic to look after a stray wolf. She’s a wildcard.”

“Amara is a very capable fighter despite her role. You know that, you’ve seen her brawl,” I offer.

Aaron very reluctantly agrees.

“Plus, if it bothers you that much, you can keep an eye on her too. I’m doing that as well, and if we catch onto any of this being a trap, then we’ll take care of her ourselves.”

“I don’t know about this. I still think we should—”

“You know that you’re one of my closest friends, Aaron, and that I always value the opinion of those around me. But I’ve made my decision. I don’t want to hear another word about this. As much as we can’t afford traps, we can’t afford to indiscriminately kill anyone either. That’s final.”

Aaron nods once, his mouth pressed into a tight line before he excuses himself and leaves me alone to my thoughts outside of Vanessa’s room.

I don’t like throwing my rank in others’ faces, but I felt I had no choice. It’s not like Aaron is being illogical. In fact, he’s being more logical than I am right now. There’s nothing to substantiate feeling drawn to Vanessa the way I did. There’s no reason for me to feel obligated to spare her life and offer her the hospitality of my pack, but for some or other reason, I haven’t even truly considered anything else yet.

I look into the room one last time, checking to see if she’s still okay. She seems to be peaceful, her body rising and falling with even breaths. But now that Aaron and Amara are gone, I can’t help but question myself … What have I done?