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The First Proof

Author: Merryn
last update Last Updated: 2025-08-29 02:56:05
POV: Olivia

The clinic smelled nothing like the pack infirmary.

No wolfsbane. No blood. No tang of silver scalpels. Just antiseptic and the faint lavender scent of the hand sanitiser Hana carried everywhere.

I sat on the exam table with paper crinkling under me, hands clamped tight in my lap. My stomach churned, though I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or nausea.

The room was too clean. Too human. Out in the hall, a receptionist tapped on a keyboard. Somewhere in the city, sirens wailed, echoing faintly through the thin glass. For the first time in my life, there was no Alpha’s shadow pressing down on me. No pack eyes watching every breath.

And still—I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had followed me here.

“Deep breath,” Hana said gently, snapping on gloves. Her dark hair was tied back, her expression professional, though her gaze softened when it met mine. “We’ll start simple—blood pressure, reflexes, all the boring bits.”

Aria leaned against the wall in her blazer, arms
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  • Alpha’s Regret: His Luna, His Heirs, His Redemption   The Divide

    POV: Olivia Reporters waited like gulls at low tide patient, hungry, sure something would wash up. They surged when my car stopped. Flashes. Questions. “Ms Wade, were the kidnappers tied to your company?” “Are you in contact with the Alpha?” “Are your children hybrids?” I didn’t answer. Security opened a path with a steady hand, avoiding headlines. The mirrored doors of Wade Global threw back the version of me I’d brought for public use: black suit, obedient hair, new scars blurred by the wrong shade of foundation. Composed. Cold. Not honest. “Welcome back, Ms Wade,” the receptionist chirped too loudly, as if to drown out the silence. The lift purred upward. I used to love that sound height as proof. Now it has only proved that the sky can be boxed in chrome and sold as victory. At thirty, my assistant, Hana, met me at the glass gate, tablet to chest. “The board’s already in,” she said softly. “And… messages from the councils.” “The human ones or the wolves?” A small smile.

  • Alpha’s Regret: His Luna, His Heirs, His Redemption   The Hollow Calm

    POV: Olivia The valley still smelled like a wet match. Ash dusted hair and hems, the Hall steps, the river stones where grief had washed its hands and left grey fingerprints. I kept the children on a strip of grass by the east wall where the wind moved. Daisy sorted pebbles by “shiny.” Lily made a crooked crown and set it on Hyden’s head; he sighed and let it be. Rowan used my phone to photograph everything that wasn’t a face. Luther stopped a pace from our blanket and didn’t touch it. Small mercy. Bandage under his rolled sleeve, dirt on his cuffs, eyes that brightened when they found me, then remembered not to. “Olivia,” he said. “Alpha.” I didn’t offer a seat. The word landed. He turned to the children. Lily stared back. Rowan nodded like a man. Hyden watched the horizon. Daisy clutched her whale patch like a seal. “I need to discuss safety,” he said. “Do you?” “There are still threats from the Creed. I want you and the children inside Red Moon territory. Not the Hall,” he

  • Alpha’s Regret: His Luna, His Heirs, His Redemption   Trial of Truth

    POV: OliviaThe rebuilt hall breathed like a chest relearning rhythm. Open arches replaced bannered walls; scrubbed stone kept its scars. Dawn fell in long bands across a single table, not a throne.They put me in the witness circle.Garron stood at my shoulder with a scuffed case. Elara waited with the elders, the Luna’s sign inked small on her wrist. Luther stood at the far end, hands folded, head unbowed. The children were behind good doors with the smells of sugar and sleep exactly right.The Council called it an emergency hearing to “restore order.” You can’t restore what never existed.I set the case on the table. The room quieted.“You summoned me,” I said. “You wanted an accounting.”“The pack demands it,” an elder in rings began. “You broadcast images not meant for”“I showed cages,” I said. “If panic followed, it followed truth.”A younger councillor flinched. Good.Marcus rose, older where it matters eyes and jaw. “Proceed. Ms Wade, present your evidence.”Garron passed me

  • Alpha’s Regret: His Luna, His Heirs, His Redemption   What the Wells Kept

    POV: Elara Night stayed quiet. We worked under canvas and lamp enough light to see, not to perform. Garron’s crew moved with quiet purpose: ropes coiled, winches oiled, salt kept dry. The pine court well sat close to the hall still learning to be a home. I chose to start here. If any rot remained, I’d cut it near my grandchildren’s laughter. Marcus stood at the edge, leaning on his cane without shame. Pride is for the young. He leaned on wood, not rank. That was mercy enough. “Lines set,” Garron said, pale beneath the grit. “Pump primed. We’ll go slow. If the readings spike” “We stop. We salt. We close,” I said. “No heroics.” He nodded. The pump coughed, then found rhythm. Water climbed, dark first, then clear. The smell rose rust, lime, and that faint sweetness memory leaves behind. “I should’ve done this years ago,” Marcus said. “You should have,” I answered. “You didn’t. So we will.” We lowered the first sensor. It slipped beneath the rim with a soft chime. The line trembl

  • Alpha’s Regret: His Luna, His Heirs, His Redemption   The Wells Remember

    POV: Elara The first well crouched where the northern ridge forgot to be a cliff its stone lip ringed with gorse, the wind combing the scrub flat. The air tasted of iron, as if the earth were holding its tongue on a mouthful of names. Marcus was already there, one hand resting on the coping, head bowed like a judge who knows the verdict can’t mend what broke. “Your father sealed it,” I said, letting the rope coil into my palm. “After the winter the pups died. He called it sanctification.” “I remember the smoke,” he said quietly. “And the smell.” “You buried truth and called it tradition.” “I thought if I named it, it would wake.” His throat worked. “So I didn’t.” The coping stones carried old runes sharp and angular, not the smooth circles apprentices are taught. Dust warmed under my thumb, as if embers remembered flame. “We should have pulled these years ago,” I murmured. “You told me,” he said. I let us fall with the rope. Garron ratcheted a senusto the dark. The well took

  • Alpha’s Regret: His Luna, His Heirs, His Redemption   The House That Breathes

    POV: OliviaBy noon the Keep looked flayed banners down, crests gone, plaster pale where pride had hung too long. Fresh timber met the ghost of ash on the ridge path and braided into something that wanted to be hope. I kept my hands in my pockets so they wouldn’t shake.“We’re not moving in,” I told the children. “We’re looking.”Rowan pretended not to care. Lily measured everything with her chin. Daisy held her blanket patch like a talisman. Hyden walked with his shoulder almost touching mine, as if contact could stop the ground from shifting.At the gate, wolves nodded and looked away new manners learning their shape. Inside, saws bit, hammers spoke, ropes creaked. The great doors stood open, iron straps scrubbed to a dull honesty. Elara waited just inside, clean hands, a smear of dust across her cheek like forgotten war paint.“No escorts,” she said. “No speeches.” She studied the children with relief, who didn’t dare breathe too loudly. “He’s in the hall. He kept it empty until yo

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