Chapter 1: The Silent Alpha

Lucian Hale's POV

The Silvermist Pack is a machine, always moving, always functioning. For a moment, I stand still in the grand hall, my fingers curled around the hilt of my sword, letting the weight of this responsibility press into me. My mind should be focused on the Luna trials ahead, on the state of my pack, but there’s something in the air today. Something different.

I don’t believe in fate. I stopped believing in that nonsense the moment my parents died and I was thrust into the brutal world of Alpha leadership. No gods, no prophecies. Only power, and the price that comes with it.

But when I first saw her, I thought about it. Fate, that is.

Sera Ashenvale.

She’s nothing like the others. The other candidates, the women who think this Luna thing is some kind of contest. Beautiful, poised, full of charm and grace. They’re what I’m supposed to want. What any Alpha would want. But she? She’s an enigma wrapped in danger.

Her eyes don’t shimmer like the others. They’re dark. Piercing. Cold, even. Her scent isn’t sweet, like a wolf’s mate should be. It’s the bitter, sharp tang of rogue blood, the kind that lingers even after the scent is gone. It haunts me.

The first time I saw her was in the training grounds. I was there, watching as the candidates sparred, when I caught sight of her, standing at the edge of the ring, her posture too still, too composed for someone who was supposed to be joining the trials.

Her eyes met mine for a second, and I knew she wasn’t here to play. She wasn’t here for anything that had to do with winning.

She was here to destroy me.

I wanted to dismiss the feeling. I tried to. But even when I focused on the ceremony preparations or the petitions from the other pack leaders, her presence stayed with me. That cold stare.

I’ve had women throw themselves at me before, but there’s something about Sera that makes me want her to, even if it costs me everything.

I don’t know why. It’s the blood in her veins, I tell myself. A rogue. Someone who doesn’t belong here. It stirs a dark curiosity in me, one I’ve tried to ignore.

I meet her again in the hall later that day. She’s standing alone, her back to the wall, arms folded. She’s watching me, not in the way others do, with admiration or hunger, but as if she’s studying me, measuring me. I can’t help but approach.

"Not here to practice, Ashenvale?" I ask, keeping my voice even, testing her reaction.

She turns to face me, and for the briefest moment, her lips curl upward, but it’s not a smile. It’s something darker. A challenge. "I’m not interested in being your Luna, Alpha."

Her words cut through me more than I expected.

“You think you have a choice?” I ask, taking a step closer, my presence deliberate. “This isn’t some game. If you’re here, you’re part of the trials. You’ll play your role, like everyone else.”

She tilts her head, the coldness in her eyes never leaving. “I’m not here to play.”

Her tone is sharp, cutting through the space between us. I can feel her walls, strong and built to withstand whatever I throw at her. But there’s something else there too. A kind of desperation masked by her defiance. It’s like a spark, tiny but undeniable, and it stirs something inside me that I’ve been trying to keep buried for years.

I take another step forward, close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating from her. "Then what are you here for?" My voice lowers, like I’m trying to draw out a confession. "Because, Ashenvale, if you think you can just waltz into this pack, ignore the rules, and walk away without consequences, you’re wrong."

Her eyes narrow. "Maybe I don’t care about consequences."

I’m taken aback for a moment. She’s dangerous. I know that. But there's something else too, something about her that pulls at me, makes my pulse quicken despite myself.

"Everyone cares about consequences," I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous level. "You may be a rogue, but here, in my pack, you answer to me."

She doesn’t flinch. Not even a little.

"I’ve never answered to anyone," she says, her voice a soft threat. "And I don’t intend to start now."

There’s a heavy silence between us as I take a moment to study her. I’m no fool. I know exactly what she is. She’s an outsider, someone who’s lived outside the laws of packs, someone who doesn’t bend or break easily. She’s survived by her own rules, and that makes her unpredictable. Dangerous. But there’s also something intoxicating about her, something that makes me want to pull the mask off her, see who she really is under all that ice.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a single silver pendant, my mother’s pendant. It’s a symbol of my pack, a sign of loyalty, of power. I hold it in front of her, just enough to be seen. "Then prove it," I say, challenging her. "Show me what you’re made of, Ashenvale."

Her gaze shifts to the pendant, her expression unreadable. She doesn’t take it, doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she just looks at me like I’m beneath her.

"I don’t need your symbol to prove anything," she says coldly. "But you’ll regret underestimating me."

And then, without another word, she walks away.

I’m left standing there, my chest tight, my heart pounding in a way I’m not used to. Something about her, something about the way she refuses to bow to me, refuses to submit—, eaves me unsettled. It’s not fear. It’s… curiosity. And I don’t like it.

I should’ve let her walk away without a second thought. But there’s a fire inside me now. One that’s been lit by her, and I’m not sure it’ll be easy to put out.