The Alpha's warning

The night air was colder than usual, sharp and biting against my skin as I leaned back against the hood of my truck just outside the tree line. The moon hung low and heavy above me, a silver disc that seemed to weigh on my chest, reminding me of everything I’d been trying so damn hard to forget.

It was quiet out here, the kind of quiet only the woods could offer. No voices, no judgments, no prying eyes. Just the steady rhythm of the wind through the pines and the faint howl of some distant creature on the ridge.

I’d come here after dropping Avery off at her house earlier, needing space to think, to breathe.

But I wasn’t alone for long.

The voice came suddenly, cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Jaxon.”

It wasn’t spoken aloud—it was a low growl in the back of my mind, a command more than a name.

I stiffened, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth. I’d been expecting this. Dreading it.

“Yes, Father,” I answered through the mind-link, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

“Now,” he ordered.

I straightened, pushing off the truck as if he were standing right in front of me, and strode toward the trees. The forest always felt different when it was his presence I was answering to—darker somehow, heavier, as if the ground itself remembered his steps.

I didn’t have to go far.

A small clearing opened up ahead, and there he stood, waiting for me. My father. The Alpha.

Even here in the dark, with nothing but moonlight to outline his form, he radiated authority. His broad shoulders and commanding posture made him seem taller than he really was, and his eyes—those sharp, unyielding eyes—locked onto me the moment I emerged into the clearing.

For a long beat, he didn’t say anything. He just stared, his arms crossed over his chest, as if he were studying me like a flaw in his otherwise perfect design.

Finally, he spoke.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, his voice low, calm, and infinitely dangerous.

I swallowed hard, forcing my shoulders back, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I’ve been handling things here. Keeping the peace.”

His lip curled, just slightly, in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Keeping the peace? Or getting distracted?”

I clenched my fists at my sides, the words hitting harder than I’d expected.

He took a slow step closer, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?” he said, each word sharp and deliberate. “Do you think the pack doesn’t talk? Do you think the Elders haven’t noticed the way you’ve been looking at that human girl?”

I said nothing. There was nothing to say.

His eyes narrowed, gleaming like ice.

“She’s human, Jaxon,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, more dangerous. “She can never understand our world. And you… you can’t afford this. Not now. Not when you’re so close to proving yourself ready to take over. Every move you make is watched. Every decision you take reflects on me. On the pack. You dishonor everything I’ve built when you let yourself be ruled by—”

“Stop.”

The word was out before I could think better of it. My voice was quiet but sharp enough to cut through his tirade.

For the first time, his eyes widened slightly, more surprised than angry. But only for a moment.

Then the anger was back, hotter this time.

He stepped closer, so close now I could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the ones no one else ever noticed.

“You think you can defy me?” he asked softly. Too softly. “You think you know better than I do what’s best for you? For this pack?”

I held his gaze, my chest rising and falling with the effort it took to keep my voice even. “No. But I know what I feel. And what I feel for her… it’s not something I can turn off just because you tell me to.”

His hands flexed at his sides, his nostrils flaring as he took a long, measured breath.

“You think what you feel matters more than the future of this pack?” he asked.

And that’s when I saw it—the faintest crack in his composure. Not much. Barely there. But enough.

Enough to tell me this wasn’t just about me and Avery. This was about him. About what he thought he’d given up for the pack. About how much it killed him to think I might throw it all away for something as messy and unpredictable as love.

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted finally, my voice low. “But what I do know is that walking away from her would destroy me.”

His jaw tightened. He took another step back, breaking our stare, looking instead at the ground between us as if the answer might be hiding there.

After what felt like an eternity, he straightened his shoulders and looked at me again, his eyes colder now, his voice as sharp and final as steel.

“Then you’d better pray you figure it out,” he said. “Before the Elders decide for you.”

And with that, he turned and disappeared into the trees, leaving me standing there alone in the clearing, my chest tight and my thoughts a mess of fear and defiance and longing all tangled together.

I stood there for what felt like forever, staring at the spot where he’d been, trying to quiet the growl building in my chest.

I didn’t know if I could ever give her up.

And I wasn’t sure I wanted to try.