Kael stood in the heart of the Silverfang stronghold, the council chamber's stone walls closing in like a cage. Firelight flickered from torches, casting shadows over the five elders seated before him. Their faces—lined, scarred, unyielding, watched him with eyes that judged more than listened. Rhea stood to his left, arms crossed, her silence louder than words. Torin lingered by the door, his smirk barely hidden.
The air stank of tension, thick as blood, and Kael's wolf paced inside him, snarling at every word thrown his way.
"You've been seen with a human," Elder Gavric said, his voice gravelly, cutting through the quiet. The oldest of the council, his white beard didn't soften the steel in his gaze. "In Crestwood. At her place of work. Torin claims you... touched her."
Kael's jaw clenched, his hands fisting at his
sides. Torin's report had spread faster than he'd expected, twisting a single brush of hands into a noose around his neck. Lena's scent still lingered on him—honey, cedar, a pull that made his blood burn, and it took everything to keep his face blank. "Torin sees what he wants," he said, voice low, steady. "I was tracking a rogue. She was a bystander."
"A bystander you lingered over." Elder Mira leaned forward, her sharp eyes glinting like a hawk's. "We've heard whispers, Kael. Your wolf's restless. Distracted. And now this human girl, her scent on you, strong enough for Torin to notice."
The chamber went quiet, the accusation hanging like smoke. Kael felt Rhea shift beside him, her warning from yesterday echoing: The pack won't stand for it. He didn't look at her. Couldn't. His wolf growled, picturing Lena, her laugh, her defiance, the spark when their hands met. Rejecting her wasn't just against instinct; it felt like tearing out his own heart.
"Speak plainly," Kael said, meeting Mira's gaze.
"What are you accusing me of?"
Gavric stood, his chair scraping the stone. "We accuse you of nothing—yet. But the law is clear: no human mates. They're weak. They break us. Your father's brother proved that, and we paid in blood." His voice softened, but it carried a blade. "You're Alpha, Kael, but you're not above the pack. If this girl is your mate, reject her. Or we'll strip your title and choose another."
The words landed like a blow. Kael's wolf roared, claws itching to break free, to tear through anyone who dared threaten her. He saw Torin's smirk widen, the enforcer already imagining himself in Kael's place. Rhea's jaw tightened, but she didn't speak. The elders waited, their silence a demand.
Reject Lena. The thought was acid, burning through him. He saw her in the café, her hazel eyes catching the light, her fingers brushing his, igniting a bond he couldn't deny. She didn't know what he was, what she was to him, but that spark had marked her. Walking away meant leaving her defenseless against rogues, against whatever howled in the forest last night, against the Thornclaws circling his borders. His wolf wouldn't allow it. Neither would he.
"No," Kael said, the word quiet but iron. He didn't elaborate, didn't need to. His defiance hung in the air, a challenge they couldn't miss.
Gavric's eyes narrowed. "You'd risk everything for a human?"
"I risk nothing," Kael lied, his voice steady despite the storm inside. "The pack is mine.
My choices are mine. If you want my title, try taking it."
The elders stiffened, murmurs rippling through them. Torin's smirk faltered, his hand twitching like he wanted to move. Rhea shot Kael a look—half warning, half respect, but stayed silent.
Gavric sat slowly, his gaze never leaving Kael's.
"Bold words, Alpha. But boldness won't save you if the Thornclaws smell weakness. Or if your pack turns."
"Then keep them in line," Kael snapped, turning for the door. "That's your job, not mine."
He left before they could argue, the chamber's weight lifting as he hit the night air. The stronghold buzzed around him, fires crackling, wolves training in the distance, but it felt distant, drowned by her scent in his memory.
Lena. He'd just drawn a line he couldn't uncross, and the pack would smell blood soon.
Torin would make sure of it.
Kael headed for the ridge, needing space to think, to plan. Lena was out there, oblivious, her life tangled in his without her knowing. He couldn't stay away, not now, not after that spark. But every step toward her pulled him deeper into a war he wasn't ready to fight. His wolf didn't care. It wanted her, laws be damned.
***
Lena's apartment was a mess, dishes in the sink, laundry spilling from a basket, but tonight, it felt like a trap. She paced the tiny living room, her sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. Kael's visit to Moonlit Brew kept replaying in her head. His eyes, gold and piercing. His voice, rough like gravel. That moment their hands brushed, like lightning stitching them together. She'd barely slept since, her dreams haunted by wolves and howls, and now her skin wouldn't stop tingling, like she'd left part of herself with him.
"Get a grip," she muttered, rubbing her hand where his touch had burned. He was just a guy.
A ridiculously intense, probably dangerous guy who tackled muggers and stared like he could see her soul. But still, just a guy.
She flopped onto the couch, grabbing her phone to distract herself. The news was all Crestwood boring—bake sales, a missing cat.
Nothing about claw marks or weird howls.
She'd gone back to the park today, half-hoping to prove she'd imagined those gashes in the ground. They were still there, deep and real, mocking her. She hadn't told anyone. Who'd believe her?
A floorboard creaked outside her door. Lena froze, her phone slipping to the cushion. Her apartment was on the third floor, no one just passed by. She held her breath, listening.
Silence. Then another creak, deliberate, closer.
Her heart kicked into overdrive. She stood, grabbing the baseball bat by the couch, her brother's old one, kept for nights like this.
"Who's there?" she called, voice sharper than she felt.
No answer. The doorknob rattled, slow, testing.
Lena gripped the bat, creeping toward the door. She'd locked it, checked it twice, but Crestwood wasn't supposed to be like this. Not her sleepy little town.
The rattling stopped. A shadow moved under the door, too big for a person, too quiet. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She raised the bat, ready to swing, when the door exploded inward, wood splintering. A figure loomed in the frame—tall, cloaked in dark cloth, its face hidden but its eyes glinting yellow, not human.
Lena swung the bat, aiming for its head. It caught the wood mid-air, snapping it like a twig. A low growl rumbled from its throat, and before she could scream, it lunged.