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3. Something in the Clearing
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2025-07-31 14:18:32Blackpine Hollow was old. Older than any pack’s history, older than the blood spilled there — and gods, there’d been plenty.
Frostclaw called it sacred.
Shadowfang called it cursed.
Kaela stood near the outer ring of trees, half-hidden by her hood, her breath sharp in her chest. She wasn’t supposed to be here—not like this. Not as a stand-in. Not under this many eyes.
But with her dad coughing up blood and her mom stuck managing the younger wolves, the Alpha had looked her square in the face and said, “You’ll represent them. Stay quiet. Only speak if addressed. No sudden moves.”
Right. Easy.
Her hands were clammy inside her cloak, heart pounding like it wanted out. She wasn’t scared, exactly. It was more like… her whole body was waiting. Like her bones knew something she didn’t.
And then—he showed up.
Ronan. Shadowfang Alpha. Big, broad, stormy in a way that made the entire hollow tilt for a second when he stepped in.
No one had to announce him. You just knew.
His eyes swept the circle lazily—until they landed on her.
Kaela’s stomach dropped.
Not like a surprise. Not even like fear. More like… gravity. Like the entire world just pivoted.
Her wolf pressed up beneath her skin.
Mate.
It hit so hard she nearly took a step back.
He looked different up close—realer. Sharper. Dark hair pulled back. That brutal kind of quiet men only get when they’ve seen war and made peace with it. No softness. No mercy.
And yet… he looked at her like she was the only goddamn thing in the clearing.
Kaela swallowed hard and turned her head slightly. Too slow. He’d seen her.
And worse—he knew.
The summit started. Frostclaw’s Alpha launched into formalities. Patrols. Territory lines. Trade routes. Blah blah blah.
Kaela couldn’t track a word of it.
Ronan didn’t look at her again. But she felt him. Every damn second.
His Beta, Darrow—grumpy and clearly over it—was the first to snap.
“You’ve expanded eastern patrols past what was agreed,” he said loudly. “That some kind of threat?”
Frostclaw’s Alpha bristled. “We tracked unfamiliar scents. Possible rogues. We responded.”
“No such rogues on our reports.”
“Maybe your scouts are as blind as your manners.”
The air shifted fast—tension crawling like static. Wolves stirred.
And then Ronan spoke.
“If they cross again,” he said cool and flat, “we’ll take it as provocation.”
His voice was quiet, but it cut. Like pressure building under ice. Kaela’s Alpha opened his mouth to spit back—
But Kaela… stepped forward.
“I gave the order,” she said, loud enough to stop every whisper cold. “It wasn’t aggression. Just defense.”
Silence cracked across the hollow.
Ronan’s eyes landed on her again. Hard. But not angry. Just… watching.
Darrow growled, “She wasn’t invited to speak.”
Kaela straightened her spine. “I stand for my parents. That gives me the right.”
She felt like she might pass out. But her voice didn’t shake.
Ronan tilted his head, almost… curious.
“You speak with fire,” he said.
Kaela blinked. “Only when I’m lit.”
He smiled. Barely. But it was enough to knock something loose in her ribcage.
“So does fate,” he said.
And gods help her, her wolf howled.
The rest of the meeting blurred. Some agreements. Some tension. A fragile almost-truce.
But all Kaela could focus on was the heat still pulsing in her hand—because when Ronan passed by her after the talks broke apart, he brushed against her skin.
Just the back of her hand.
Just a second too long.
But it was everything.
Electricity. Heat. Want.
She turned, barely breathing.
He did too.
“You felt it,” he murmured.
Not a question.
And then he walked away like he hadn’t just shattered her world.
That night, Kaela didn’t stay with the others. She slipped away into the trees.
The air was still. But inside her? A hurricane.
She looked at her hand. Still tingling.
The bond was real. Not some romantic tale. Not a game.
She didn’t want it.
She didn’t ask for any of this.
And still…
Still.
She leaned back against a tree and whispered into the cold air, like if she said it soft enough it wouldn’t be true.
“I think I’m falling.”
Somewhere in the dark, a wolf answered her.
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Claimed by the Enemy Alpha 67. The First Crack
Morning in the White didn’t happen the way it did anywhere else.It didn’t break. It leaked.Thin strips of weak light bled through the skeletal trees, painting everything in washed-out gray. The frost clung stubbornly to the ground, whispering under Kaela’s boots as she sat up in the cold.She’d slept—sort of—but every time she’d drifted off, the whisper had been there. That same curl of almost-words brushing her ear. She couldn’t remember them when she opened her eyes, but she remembered the feeling they left—like something cold had crawled under her skin and stayed there.The camp was quiet except for Dax, crouched over the embers of a dying fire, coaxing it back to life with slow, careful movements. Steam rose from his mouth in little bursts.“He’s out there,” he said without looking at her.She rubbed her face. “You mean Ronan.”“Who else?” Dax smirked faintly. “Eastern edge. He’s been there a while.”Of course he had.Kaela pulled on her boots and followed the trail—big, deliber
Claimed by the Enemy Alpha 66. Night Watch
The White never really slept.It just shifted—breathing in long, cold exhales, rustling in places where there was no wind, creaking like the bones of something ancient.Kaela sat by the half-burned fire, chin tucked into her scarf, eyes locked on the tree line. Her wolf was restless. Her turn on watch. She should have been alone, but Ronan was out there too, pacing the shadows like a caged predator.“You can sit, you know,” she called out quietly.“I’m not tired.” His voice came from somewhere to her right—rougher, lower, like the night made it heavier.“You’re always not tired.”He didn’t answer, didn’t even pause. Just kept moving. His boots crunched over frostbitten ground, slow deliberate circles skirting the outer edge of the firelight. It was the kind of movement that made you feel watched even when you were the one watching.Kaela’s teeth caught on her lip. She told herself she was listening for threats, but her focus kept drifting to him instead—the way he moved with that cont
Claimed by the Enemy Alpha 65. One Blanket
The fire was low, more embers than flame, exactly how Ronan kept it. The kind of fire that gave just enough heat to stop their fingers from going numb, but not enough to light them up like a beacon in the White.The air beyond that soft glow felt alive in the wrong way. Heavy. Watching. Kaela’s instincts kept brushing the edges of something—too faint to catch, too patient to reveal itself. The cold seemed sharper because of it, like the air itself wanted them brittle.She was on the far side of the fire, legs tucked under herself, dagger across her lap. She’d been telling herself she’d make it through the night awake, that she’d watch him do those constant perimeter sweeps and keep her own eyes open, that the cold wouldn’t matter. But the White had its own rules, and right now, her body was losing to them.“You’re shivering,” Ronan’s voice cut across the crackle of the wood.She looked up. “I’m fine.”His head tilted slightly. “That wasn’t a question.”Kaela smirked, but it was short-
Claimed by the Enemy Alpha 64. Between Teeth and Silence
The White swallowed sound whole.Not like the forests Kaela knew, where the wind could scream through the branches or the snow could crunch underfoot loud enough to give you away for miles. Here, the silence was heavier. Thick. It clung to her ears until even her own breathing sounded like an intrusion.She hated this place.Not just for the cold — though the cold here wasn’t a thing that bit and then went away. It was a slow invasion, a thing that crept into her blood and made her wonder if her heart was still beating at the right speed. But worse than that was how the White erased the world. No color. No smell. No movement unless you made it yourself. The White didn’t just hide things. It made you question if they’d ever been real.A lone figure cut through that emptiness ahead of her — Ronan, a shadow against the pale world. His shoulders rolled with each step in that steady, predatory rhythm he had, even when they weren’t tracking prey. He didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. She kne
Claimed by the Enemy Alpha 63. The Trail Left for You
Kaela woke with the kind of unease that didn’t belong to dreams.It wasn’t the cold that roused her—though the cold was a living thing here, biting and needling until your skin felt too tight—it was the quiet.Too quiet.Camp was never silent. Even in the dead of night, there was always something: the soft crunch of patrol boots, Lira’s low pacing hum, Ronan’s steady breath moving past her tent. This morning, though… nothing.When she pushed herself upright, the world outside looked wrong. The snow should’ve been broken and messy from movement—patrol shifts, restless wolves—but it was smooth. Unbroken. Glittering under the thin throat of dawn like it hadn’t been touched since it fell.Except for one thing.A single, perfect mark slicing across the whiteness. Narrow. Unwavering.It started just inside the ward line.Ended at Ronan’s boots.Her stomach dropped.“Ronan—”“I see it.” His voice was low, gravel dragged over stone. Either he hadn’t slept, or the night had taken more from him
Claimed by the Enemy Alpha 62. The Breath Behind You
Kaela didn’t sleep.Not because she wanted to be heroic about it—her body begged for rest, muscles throbbing from the day’s march—but every time her eyes slipped shut, the fire’s glow dimmed just enough for the dark to lean in.And in the dark… she could hear it.That sound from earlier—low, slow, deliberate. A breath so long it felt wrong. Not like lungs filling because they had to. Like it was done on purpose. For her.Lira was half-dozing near the fire, bow balanced in her lap, head tilting forward only to jerk back up. Her lips moved now and then—those old-words again—but she never said them loud enough for Kaela to catch.Ronan hadn’t sat down once. He was still a dark shape at the edge of camp, standing with his back to them, staring into the tree line like he could force the shadows to give up their secrets.The snow glowed faintly under the half-moon. It made the shapes between the drifts look like they were moving—just at the corner of her vision—never when she looked straigh
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