Bound to the Rogue Alpha 2

I laughed softly into the receiver, unable to keep the warmth out of my voice. "Logan, you are being completely ridiculous." I leaned against a stone pillar in the garden, watching my breath mist in the freezing air. "The feast has been relentless. I feel like every Elder in the North has scented me and taken my picture today. I honestly haven't had a spare second to breathe, honey."

The moment the word "honey" left my lips, I could practically feel Logan’s irritation dissolve through the line. I heard him huff a sigh, followed by a low, self-deprecating growl.

"Fine. I suppose I’ll forgive you. But the Harbor View apartment feels like a tomb without you. When are you coming back? I miss your scent."

A blush crept up my neck, heating me despite the Northern chill. "I only crossed the border yesterday, Logan. It’s been twenty-four hours."

I was about to tease him further when a familiar voice echoed from the terrace. "Brooke? Where have you hidden yourself? The ritual dance hasn't even begun."

Johanna was scanning the garden, her silver silks shimmering under the moon. I whispered a quick goodbye to Logan and cut the link before she reached me. My mother pulled me back toward the light and the noise. Because she and Beal were drowning in the guilt of two lost decades, they seemed determined to pack twenty years of parenting into a single week. Every waking moment was a whirlwind of activity; Johanna was particularly manic, dragging me to the finest tailors and weapon-smiths in Barnes, insisting on buying every blade and silk wrap I so much as glanced at.

The constant attention was exhausting. My parents were so consumed by the high of reclaiming their blood that they seemed to have completely forgotten about Lila, who had retreated to her chambers like a wounded predator.

Inside her room, Lila was pressed against the heavy oak door, straining to hear the laughter bubbling up from the Great Hall. Every cheer for the "True Heir" felt like a lash against her skin. She threw herself onto her furs, tears of hot rage blurring her vision. The communication links were already flooded with news of the "Lost Daughter of the North."

Some trackers were even comparing her to me, whispering that she lacked the natural Alpha-grace I carried. They were calling her a squatter who had feasted on another’s kill.

"Why is this happening to me?" Lila gripped her pillow, her eyes flashing with a dangerous, golden light. She wanted to shift and tear the throat out of the girl downstairs.

Only a few suns ago, she was the princess of the White Compound, the most envied female in the Citadel. Now, she was an interloper, a mistake. The unfairness of it burned in her gut. She felt like Johanna and Beal had betrayed her by parading me in front of the world—it was a public execution of her status.

Her device buzzed on the rug. It was Megan Wright.

"Lila, what is the Council saying? Who is this Brooke girl? How can you suddenly be an 'adopted' wolf in your own den?"

Lila’s head throbbed with a rhythmic pressure. "Stop howling about her name! Just hearing it makes me want to draw blood!" she snarled into the device.

"So the scent is true. Where are you? Are you still at the Compound, or have you slunk off to find the commoners who sired you?" Megan’s voice was sharp, hunting for the new hierarchy.

Lila felt her world shrinking. Johanna had been blunt: her biological parents were low-caste commoners with no territory. After a life of high-altar feasts and silk, she couldn't imagine a life in the dirt.

"Don't be absurd. My father and mother have made it clear I am still a White." Lila lied through her teeth, her voice trembling. She knew that even if she stayed, she was now a Beta in an Alpha’s house. Staying was a humiliation, but leaving was a death sentence.

Downstairs, the sounds of Beal and Johanna doting on me continued.

"They must be very merciful to keep you," Megan added, the jab barely hidden.

Merciful? If they had mercy, they wouldn't have brought me back to strip her of everything. Lila hung up, the silence of her room feeling like a cage. She spent the next few days in a cycle of grief and rage, waiting for someone to come. But aside from the servants leaving raw meat and water at her door, the house forgot her.

She realized then that if she just stayed in the dark, she would fade away. She had to shift her tactics. She had twenty years of history with them; I was a stranger. She had the education of a High Luna; I was a Southern stray. She could win them back by being the "perfect" daughter while I struggled to adapt.

Lila finally emerged from her room, composing her face into a mask of tragic grace. She descended the stone stairs and found the three of us in the lounge, watching the flickering images of a historical drama. Johanna was weeping over a scene where a mother wolf was separated from her cub, clutching my hand tightly.

"The cruelty of the world is too much," Johanna sobbed.

I offered her a gentle, awkward smile. "It’s only a story, Mrs. White. The actors are just playing their parts."

Beal, busy carving fruit for us, chuckled. "Your mother has always been a soft-hearted wolf. Any tale of a broken pack sends her into a frenzy."

Johanna popped a slice of fruit into her mouth and playfully bared her teeth at him. "Do not undermine me in front of our daughter, Beal."

It was a picture of a perfect pack. Lila felt like a ghost haunting her own home. She swallowed the bitterness and stepped into the light, her eyes artfully red and her scent dampened by sorrow.

"Mother, Father... the house sounded so lively, I had to see what you were watching."

Beal and Johanna turned. Seeing her pitiful state, their parental instincts flickered back to life. Johanna stood, grabbing a soft cloth to wipe Lila’s face.

"Lila, you shouldn't lock yourself away. No matter the blood, we are still bound by the years we shared."

Johanna had wanted to comfort her earlier, but she’d decided that a wolf needs to find her own feet after a fall. Lila nodded, her tears flowing fresh as she buried her face in Johanna’s shoulder.

"I don't want to leave. I know my true blood is elsewhere, but I don't know those wolves. You are the only Alphas I have ever served. I’m just terrified of losing you."

Beal stood and placed a hand on her back. "We aren't casting you out. This den is yours as long as you wish. You are our daughter, by law if not by marrow."

Lila looked up, a glimmer of victory in her eyes. She turned to me, her expression melting into a false sweetness. "Then we are sisters now, Brooke."

"Yes," I said, offering the only answer I could.

"This is how it should be," Johanna beamed, pulling us both close. "Lila was born a few moons before you, Brooke. She will be your elder sister. She can guide you through the customs of the North."

I hesitated for a heartbeat. "Alright."

"I’ll take such good care of her, Mother," Lila promised.

I caught the look in Lila's eyes—a flash of cold, predatory calculation that didn't match her honeyed words. But I stayed silent. I didn't want to ruin the peace Johanna so desperately craved.

Beal adjusted his glasses and pulled Johanna close. "The pack is finally whole."

Johanna didn't want me returning to the South so soon. She was obsessed with the idea of me staying in the Barnes Citadel.

"I have to oversee the holdings tomorrow. If you're restless, Lila can take you to the markets. She knows everyone in the city. Here—take this."

Johanna handed me a heavy, gold-embossed token—the high-tier supplementary card for the White family accounts.

"I can't take this. You've already gifted me more than I can carry," I protested.

Johanna pressed it into my palm anyway. "Nonsense. You're a White. Act like one. I’ll leave you two to bond today."

Lila’s scent spiked with a sharp, metallic jealousy. She had begged for a high-limit token for years, and Johanna had always refused, citing the need for "financial discipline." Now, I had been handed the keys to the treasury without asking.

Lila had a gathering planned with Megan and her social circle at the High-Peak Hotel. She had zero intention of bringing me, but with Johanna’s eyes on her, she forced a smile. "Of course, Brooke must come."

The hotel restaurant was a sprawling terrace overlooking the valley, a place where the wealthy females of the North spent their afternoons shredding reputations over rare teas.

"Lila! Finally! We thought you’d gone rogue!"

A woman in a bold leopard-print wrap stood up, waving them over. Lila greeted her with the ritual cheek-scent. "I was delayed by pack business."

The woman's eyes immediately locked onto me. "And who is this? Introduce your guest."

Lila stepped behind me, her voice ringing with a false pride. "This is my sister, Brooke White. The one the heralds have been talking about."

The women at the table went silent, their eyes scanning me for any sign of "low-blood" weakness. They were all daughters of minor Alphas, wolves with no ambition beyond a favorable mating.

Later that evening, Johanna found Lila in the kitchen. "Brooke seemed quiet when she returned. Did something happen at the hotel?"

Lila looked pained. "I don't know, Mother. My friends and I were perfectly welcoming. We tried to include her in the talk, but she seemed... distant. Perhaps she just doesn't understand our ways yet."

Johanna frowned. She knew Lila could be difficult, but she trusted her upbringing. "I see. Go get some rest. I’ll speak with her."

The next morning, I was in the kitchen early—an old habit from my days at the Lawson Estate. Johanna came in from the snowy woods, steam rising from her skin after a morning run. At nearly fifty, she still looked like a warrior in her prime.

"Good morning, Mrs. White," I said, nodding.

The words "Mom" and "Dad" still felt like thorns in my throat. I had spent my life calling Richard and Evelyn by their titles or "sir" and "ma'am." Using intimate names felt like a lie.

Johanna stopped, wiping sweat from her brow. She looked wounded. "I am not an Elder in the Council, Brooke. Why are you still addressing me like a stranger?"

She looked at the empty breakfast table, then at her stomach, giving me a playful wink. "The servants are slow today. Why don't we see what we can hunt in the pantry? You haven't tasted a meal prepared by my own hands yet, have you?"