The Alpha's Burden

Kieran POV

The urgent pack meeting had lasted for three hours, and I could sense my patience unraveling like a rope under excessive strain. Elder Blackthorne’s voice monotonously discussed territorial lines and customary hunting areas, while Elder Morrison nodded in agreement, exuding the type of seasoned wisdom that came from avoiding real choices during his seventy-three years of existence. "Which is why we must reflect on the consequences of letting outsiders interfere with our investigation," Blackthorne declared, his aged hands gesturing passionately.

I clenched the arms of my chair tightly enough to hear the wood groan in discomfort. The conference room within the pack house felt more constricted than usual, saturated with the odor of old disputes and ancient biases.

Through the expansive windows, I could view the Olympic Peninsula's timeworn forests extending towards the skyline, but even that reassuring sight couldn't soothe the restless tension that had been mounting in my chest since Marcus Chen's phone call. “Four alphas are dead,” I asserted, my voice slicing through Blackthorne's discourse with the kind of authority that had unified this pack for the last three years.

“Four leaders from distinct territories, murdered by someone who possesses an in-depth understanding of werewolf customs. This is not an issue we can resolve by retreating and wishing it away.” Elder Morrison adjusted himself in his chair, his cloudy eyes locking onto me with disapproval. “Alpha Steele, surely you can’t be proposing we allow human law enforcement into our most sacred domains? The ramifications for pack safety alone.

“The consequences of inaction are that I could be next,” I interjected. “Or Damien. Or any other alpha-ranked wolf in this gathering. Whoever is responsible for this is not making arbitrary kills. They’re specifically targeting leadership, and they are doing so with pinpoint accuracy.”

Damien leaned forward from his position beside me, his dark eyes surveying the room with a level of tactical scrutiny that had proven him to be an essential beta. “The murderer was aware that Alpha Morrison would be alone at his cabin last weekend. Knew Alpha Chen's security schedule. Knew precisely when Alpha Rodriguez would be moving between territories.

This is not a matter of chance or coincidence.” “It’s intelligence,” I concurred. “Someone with access to our pack communications, territorial agreements, perhaps even our internal security measures. Which indicates that the danger isn't only external.”

The silence that followed my words was thick with implications nobody wanted to voice. Pack betrayal was the kind of accusation that could tear a community apart, but it was also the only explanation that made tactical sense.

Elder Blackthorne's face had gone pale above his carefully groomed beard. "You're suggesting one of our own."

"I'm suggesting we consider all possibilities," I said firmly. "Including the uncomfortable ones."

My phone vibrated against the conference table, the sound disproportionately loud in the tense silence. Marcus Chen’s name lit up the screen, and a knot formed in my stomach that had little to do with the ongoing crisis.  

"I need to answer this," I said, rising and stepping toward the windows. "Please continue the security discussion. I want to double patrol schedules and ensure no one travels alone until we have more information."  

I picked up the call on the fourth ring, turning away from the room filled with elders and advisors who were likely already speculating about their alpha's apparent distraction.  

"Chen."  

"Kieran. I have both good and bad news regarding tomorrow night's meeting."  

"Let’s start with the bad news. My day has been rough enough."  

Marcus let out a strained chuckle. "The bad news is that the situation is worse than we first believed. I’ve confirmed two more casualties, one in Oregon and one in Northern California. Both were alphas, both killed with the same ritualistic accuracy."  

Six dead. The number struck me like a physical blow, forcing me to shut my eyes for a moment as I grappled with the implications. This was no isolated incident or territorial conflict. This was a systematic eradication of werewolf leadership across the whole West Coast.  

"And what about the good news?" I inquired, though I was already preparing myself for the inevitable complex twist.  

"I’ve managed to convince the best rogue hunter on the West Coast to consult on the case. They possess inside knowledge about pack politics and the expertise needed to track down whoever is responsible."  

The top rogue hunter on the West Coast. Something in Marcus’s voice made my wolf pace anxiously beneath my skin, a note of restrained tension indicating that this wasn’t as straightforward as simply bringing in an outside expert.  

"Who?" I asked, though a part of me already had a suspicion. A part of me had both feared and hoped for this development since Marcus first mentioned bringing in a specialist.  

"Aria Blackwood."  

The name struck me like a silver bullet to the chest, stealing my breath and causing my vision to blur. Three years. Three years since I last uttered her name aloud, since I had allowed myself to dwell on amber eyes and auburn hair and the way she had looked at me those final moments before I wrecked everything we might have shared.  

"Kieran? Are you still there?"  

I focused on breathing, speaking, and acting like the alpha I was expected to be, instead of the fractured man who had been haunting my dreams for three years.  

"She agreed to take the case?" My voice emerged steadier than I anticipated, although I couldn’t conceal the tension that turned each word into something sharp and hazardous.  

"She did. With some reluctance, she agreed. I should probably add that she doesn’t know you’ll be there tomorrow night."  

Naturally, she didn’t. Because if Aria had been aware that Kieran Steele would represent the Crescent Moon Pack at that meeting, she would have declined Marcus’s offer without a moment's thought. The last time we had shared a room, I had stood before two hundred pack members and rejected her as my mate, my Luna, my everything. I had prioritized duty over love, politics over happiness, and the expectations of others over the desperate entreaties of my own heart.

It had been the correct choice for the pack. The elders clearly communicated that in the months that followed, as political alliances firmed up and territorial agreements took shape. Aria had been too young, too low in rank, and too emotionally unstable to handle the demands of being an alpha's mate. My union with Sophia Ravencrest had delivered stability, political ties, and a strategic partnership that was advantageous for everyone.

Except Sophia had abandoned me six months prior, running off with Alpha Marcus Throne from the Vancouver territory. Except the political alliances had disintegrated the moment my personal life became fodder for pack gossip. Except I had spent the last three years waking up each day with regret on my tongue and the memory of Aria's shattered expression seared into my mind. 

"How is she?" The inquiry escaped my lips before I could restrain it, and I noticed Marcus pause on the other end of the call. 

"Changed," he eventually replied. "Stronger. She’s built quite a name for herself in the hunting community. They refer to her as the Lone Wolf, ironic, considering." 

The Lone Wolf. A werewolf who operates solo, who rejected pack life so entirely that she crafted a new persona around solitude. The girl I had known had been kind-hearted, eager to please, and longing to belong somewhere. That girl wouldn’t have thrived for three years as a rogue hunter. 

Which indicated that the woman entering tomorrow night's meeting was not the same person I had shamed with my cowardice and political strategies. 

"Does she know about the pack representatives?" I inquired. 

"She knows there will be pack representatives present. She doesn’t know which packs or who they’re sending." Marcus’s tone became carefully guarded. "I should probably check, will this be a problem? Because if you can’t collaborate with her professionally." 

"It won’t be an issue," I replied hastily. Too hastily. "I’m a professional, and so is she. We can manage being in the same room to stop a killer." 

Even as I uttered those words, I recognized they were a falsehood. Nothing about Aria Blackwood had ever been straightforward, professional, or easy to compartmentalize. She had been the missing piece of my soul, the one who inspired me to rise above duty, politics, and meticulous strategies. Losing her had felt like losing a limb; you learn to function without it, but you never cease to feel the phantom ache. 

"Great," Marcus said, though his doubt about how smoothly the next evening would unfold was apparent. "Meeting's set for seven PM. Northgate Community Center, Conference Room B. I’ll send you the files we have up to this point." 

"I’ll be there." 

I ended the call and lingered at the window for a prolonged moment, observing the afternoon sun streaming through the ancient Douglas firs that lined our territory. Somewhere out there, six alphas were slain, and their packs mourned. Somewhere out there, a killer was plotting their next move with an intimate understanding that hinted at pack betrayal on a level I didn’t wish to consider. 

And tomorrow night, I was going to walk into a room and confront the woman whose heart I had shattered in the pursuit of a pack that was gradually disintegrating anyway. 

"Alpha?" Damien’s voice emerged from directly behind me, close enough that I should have been aware of his approach. The fact that I hadn’t was a testament to how completely Aria’s name had derailed my usually keen awareness.

I turned to see my beta observing me with the kind of worried look he often reserved for pack members on the verge of doing something incredibly foolish.  

"The meeting concluded?" I inquired.  

"Fifteen minutes ago. You’ve been standing there gazing at the trees as if they held the answers to everything," Damien said, crossing his arms and giving me a look that had intimidated even stronger wolves than myself. "Care to share what that phone call was about?"  

For a brief moment, I thought about sidestepping the question. Damien had been my closest friend since childhood, yet he was also one of the few members of the pack who had openly opposed my decision to turn Aria down. The conversation that followed her departure had been one of the rare occasions in our friendship when it nearly turned physical.  

But Damien was my beta, and he had a right to know what we were facing.  

"Tomorrow night’s meeting," I stated. "Marcus Chen has invited a specialist to advise on the alpha murders. Someone with insider knowledge of pack politics."  

Damien’s expression transformed from worry to something resembling fear. "Please tell me you’re not about to say what I think you’re going to say."  

"Aria Blackwood is consulting on the case."  

My beta remained silent for an extended moment, his dark eyes scrutinizing my face with a level of intensity that made me feel like he was analyzing every subtle expression for future reference.  

"How are you dealing with that?" he finally asked.  

"Professionally," I replied, which seemed to be my default way of deflecting questions I didn’t want to answer truthfully.  

"Uh-huh." Damien's tone indicated that he believed none of my composed facade. "And how do you think she will react when she sees you?"  

That was the real question. The woman who would walk into tomorrow night's meeting would not be the heartbroken girl who had left pack territory three years ago. Marcus had mentioned she was changed, more formidable. The Lone Wolf. A hunter who had established a reputation for taking down threats that others could not confront.  

This raised the unsettling possibility that she might look at me and see just another monster in need of extermination.  

"I suppose we’ll find out," I said.