Rhett Calder was not a man who lost control. That was the entire point of being Alpha: control of his pack, instincts, and emotions. However, as he sat at the long stone table beneath the Summit canopy, listening to Alphas argue over border patrols and territory alliances, his wolf refused to settle.
Mira sat two seats away, arms folded, legs stretched out like she had nothing to prove, and Jace sat just behind her in the circle of observers, quiet as a shadow. Rhett could feel both of them. The bond crackled beneath his skin like static electricity. The longer they stayed close, the harder it became to ignore the constant hum in his chest like something unfinished was trying to complete itself. He’d spent the night walking the camp's perimeter, sleepless, furious. Mira was his mate. The gods had branded her into his soul. That was hard enough, but now another man, a Beta no less, was tied to her too? It didn’t make sense. Bonds didn’t work that way, at least, they weren’t supposed to, but his instincts hadn’t rejected Jace. That’s what bothered him most. He didn’t like the man, but his wolf hadn’t snarled or attacked. There had been no threat response, no rejection, just silence. Silence wasn’t good. Silence meant possibility, and Rhett didn’t have time for possibilities, not with the Summit collapsing into chaos. “…and if Blackstone refuses to share its northern pass, then perhaps your ‘neutrality’ is more self-interest than tradition,” Alpha Marek snapped. Rhett turned his head slowly. “Careful, Marek. Implying cowardice is a dangerous move this close to a full moon.” The table went quiet. Marek’s Beta cleared his throat. “Our Alpha only meant—” “I know exactly what he meant,” Rhett cut in, then leaned forward. “You want access to Blackstone’s pass, fine. But not for free. And not while rogues are disappearing across three territories and no one’s talking about it.” That got a reaction. Alpha Thorne of the East Ridge leaned in. “You’ve seen signs?” Rhett nodded. “Six patrols went out. Two came back injured. One didn’t return at all.” Murmurs rippled around the table. Jace, behind Mira, sat up straighter. “Same in Hollowshade,” he said. “Two missing. Claw marks don’t match anything natural.” “You’re not a voting Alpha,” Marek snapped. “Maybe not,” Rhett said coolly, “but I trust a report from a Beta more than your posturing.” Mira’s mouth twitched something like approval. Rhett didn’t care, well, not much. Probably. He turned back to the table. “This is the real threat. Not who gets access to trade routes or border control. Something’s hunting in our lands. Something smart.” Silence again. Luna Thorne cleared her throat, her Sharpe gaze meeting his expectantly. “Then perhaps we should consider a joint investigation—a task force. Rhett was already ahead of her. “I’ve already drafted a proposal,” he said. “I’ll take point. One Alpha rep. One combat specialist. One intelligence liaison from each pack.” Thorne nodded slowly. “And Blackstone will host?” Rhett nodded once. “Neutral territory. Well guarded. Secluded.” He didn’t say what he was really thinking: Safe enough to buy time to figure out what the hell is happening to me. Or them. Or all three of them. The vote passed quickly. Rhett knew how to speak the language of command. Offer safety. Demand control. Pretend cooperation. He didn’t look at Mira until the meeting dissolved, but her eyes were already on him when he did. “You planned that,” she said. “I planned the task force,” he replied. “You and Rowan? That’s the gods’ fault.” Mira rolled hee eyes at him, clearly in agreement. Jace approached cautiously, stopping at Rhett’s left. “You’ll need me for Hollowshade’s liaison,” he said, all business. “And you,” Mira added, “are stuck with me as Ridgeback’s combat rep.” Rhett exhaled through his nose. “Of course I am.” But he didn’t argue. Having them both return to Blackstone was risky, but not as risky as leaving them unprotected and vulnerable to whispers and suspicion. Being separated would stress the uncompleted mate bond and force a heat or cause sickness. The moment someone sensed the bond, their world would implode. No one could know. “Three days,” he said. “We leave at dawn.” Jace nodded once. Mira arched a brow. “Just like that?” “You wanted a reason not to run,” Rhett said, gazing hard. “Now you’ve got one.” She tilted her head. “And what about you, Alpha? What are you running from?” The question landed sharper than he liked. He didn’t answer because he wasn’t sure. Not true, he was running from a lot of things but he wasn't ready to admit it. That night, as the moon rose full and bright above the Summit grounds, Rhett stood alone at the ridge, watching shadows slip through the trees. They would leave soon, and when they did, Mira and Jace would enter his territory, his home. He could observe, analyze, and figure out what the bond was trying to do to him, where he had the advantage. He didn’t trust Rowan. Didn’t understand him. But he didn’t reject him either. That was a problem because rejection was easy, but indifference? That was a crack waiting to split something wide open.Jace wasn’t sure when it started., not the bond with Mira, he’d felt that like a thunderclap. Raw. Immediate. Painful in its honesty. But the second thread, the one tugging quietly, steadily from the edges of his awareness, that was Rhett. At first, Jace had thought it was instinct—pack proximity, Alpha presence, the usual gravitational pull between dominant wolves and those who knew how to follow without submission. But this wasn’t deference. It wasn’t fear. It was his wolf recognizing its mate. A rhythm syncing with his. Like his heartbeat had started listening for someone else’s, and it terrified him. Ifthis was real; if the bond was forming between all three of them, then there was no turning back without tearing something vital apart. He stood at the edge of the Blackstone training grounds, arms crossed as Mira worked through hand-to-hand drills with a young warrior named Risa. Mira moved like wind wrapped around steel, all grace and precision, all muscle and danger. She h
The sunrise didn’t feel like a new beginning. It felt like a warning. Rhett stood at the perimeter line of Blackstone’s northern ridge, wind tugging at his sleeves as the scent of morning dew and pine curled around him. Below, the pack compound stirred. Taining rotations resuming, patrols swapping out, another day pretending everything was normal. It wasn’t. He could still feel the taste of her, Mira. The fire in her touch, the demand in her kiss, the way the bond had burned through him like wildfire the second he let go. He had kissed her like a drowning man, and then, like a coward, he’d walked away. Not because he didn’t want her, but because the moment he gave in, he felt the entire foundation of his control begin to splinter. He didn’t know how to lead while falling apart, and the bond—the triad—was tearing at the seams of every rule that had kept him grounded. ⸻ “You look like shit.” Rhett didn’t turn. Tarek’s voice came from behind him, steady, casual, but not unkind.
The trees blurred past in a gray-green smear, but Jace barely saw them. The truck rumbled steady beneath them, tires carving through forest roads, but the cabin’s silence was heavy; thicker than the woods, tighter than the space between his shoulder and hers. Mira sat next to him, arms crossed, her face turned toward the window. She hadn’t said a word since the kiss. Not to Rhett. Not to Jace. Not even to herself, from what he could feel through the bond. Her emotions crackled, confused, charged, and defensive. She was holding them in like steam under pressure. It would break her eventually. It always did. Jace didn’t blame her. He wasn’t even sure he could put into words what had shifted during the mission between them, among them, but something had. He’d felt it the second Rhett pressed his mouth to hers,fierce and raw. He hadn’t been close enough to hear their words, but the emotions had flooded through the bond like a lightning strike to the chest. Rhett’s need had been
Rhett’s mouth crushed against hers like gravity finally gave in. There was no hesitation. No measured calculation. Just raw, commanding heat. His hand curled at the back of her neck, anchoring her in place, while his other arm slid around her waist, pulling her against the hard line of his body. The kiss burned—not gentle, not careful—but claiming. Like he’d spent every second of resistance storing up this exact moment. And gods help her, she let him. Because the second his lips met hers, everything else disappeared. The aching, the questions, the fear gone in an instant. There was only his mouth on hers, the smell of smoke and pine, the sound of his restrained breathing as if he, too, was stunned by how badly he needed this. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to shove him and remind him that she wasn’t his to command, but when his tongue brushed hers and her spine arched into his body, she realized she wanted something else more. She wanted to feel, to let it happen, to let som
The dream was soft at first. Mira’s voice—low, urgent, pulling through shadows, not in pain, but calling. Then a second voice—rougher, controlled. A thread of gravel and storm. Rhett. Their voices circled him, not speaking to him, but about him. Around him. Through him. He was in the middle. Always the middle. Jace opened his eyes. It was dark. The cabin creaked softly with age. Cold air pressed against the shuttered windows, and the dying embers of a long-dead fire whispered in the hearth. He was alone; No—not alone. Movement shifted across the room. He sat up slowly, his heart beating faster, not from fear, but knowing. The bond was awake. He could feel them. Mira’s emotions were jagged. Sharp. A mix of restraint and fury. Rhett’s were molten iron wrapped in stone. They weren’t yelling but they were absolutely arguing. Jace rose silently and stepped toward the doorway leading into the next room, moving like the scout he’d been trained to be. What he saw stopped him in his t
It wasn’t supposed to be a real mission. Just a recon run, low-risk terrain, low-profile intel collection. A test of team cohesion, Blackstone’s security tech, and the task force’s ability to not kill each other in close quarters but the forest had other plans. Now Mira was crouched beneath the twisted carcass of a fallen tree, blood in her mouth, sweat on her neck, and two growling, pissed-off males flanking her on either side. “Everyone else is still back at the outpost,” Jace said, voice low. “We got separated at the ridge when the det charge went off. “Yeah, I noticed,” Mira muttered, adjusting the strap on her thigh holster. Rhett didn’t speak. He stood a few feet away, back to them, scanning the treeline with his usual coiled intensity. His hands were flexing and relaxing at his sides, like he was ready to tear something apart. “Trap?” Mira asked. “Most likely,” Rhett said. Jace crouched beside her, steady eyes scanning the terrain. “Minimal blast pattern. Controlled. Not