Chapter 6

ALPHA GARRICK POV

The dream did not start with sound.

It started with silence.

A heavy, pressing silence that sat on my chest and made it hard to breathe. I stood in the old hall, not the clearing this time. The walls were cracked, the torches unlit. Moonlight poured in through the high windows, painting the floor in pale silver.

She stood at the far end.

My first mate.

She looked exactly the way she had on the night everything ended. Hair loose. Face calm. Too calm. Her hands were folded in front of her, fingers steady, as if she was the one watching me unravel.

“You’re late,” she said.

“I didn’t come to hurt you,” I replied, though I didn’t remember walking in.

She smiled faintly. “That’s what you tell yourself.”

The hall began to close in, the walls inching closer with every step I took toward her. My boots echoed, loud and accusing.

“They gave me no choice,” I said. “The pack was tearing itself apart.”

She tilted her head. “There is always a choice, Garrick. You just chose the one that kept you standing.”

Her voice wasn’t angry. It never was. That was what broke me every time.

The moonlight shifted. Shadows gathered behind her, stretching long and twisted. Faces formed in them, elders, wolves, eyes watching. Judging.

“You wanted their loyalty,” she continued. “You wanted the crown. Melinda would always be right. She’s right because she holds favor in the eyes of the pack. Not me”

“No,” I snapped. “I wanted order.”

She stepped closer. With every step, the air grew colder.

“And what did it cost you?”

I opened my mouth, but no answer came.

Her hand reached for me, fingers brushing my chest, right where my heart thudded wildly. The touch burned. I looked down and saw blood.

It was hers. .

I stumbled back, dizzy. When I looked up again, the blade in my hand was buried deep into her stomach.  

“Claire,” I mumbled, catching her before she fell. 

Her eyes were open. And just like every other time, I anticipated the final words. 

She did speak, only that this time, it was different. “My time has come,” she said, though her lips didn’t move.

I woke up with a sharp inhale, sitting upright in bed.

My heart pounded violently, sweat soaking through my clothes. For a moment, I couldn’t tell a dream from memory. The stone walls of my chamber slowly came into focus. 

I dragged a hand down my face and swung my legs off the bed. My hands trembled as I poured water into a cup and drank. Then another. The water was cool, but it did nothing to calm the storm in my chest.

Sleep was impossible now.

I crossed the room and stepped onto the balcony, pushing the doors open wide. Cold night air rushed over me, sharp and clean. I leaned against the railing, closing my eyes, forcing my breathing to slow.

A movement caught my attention.

On the neighboring balcony, someone stood.

Nyvara.

She was turned away at first, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was trying to hold something together. She looked smaller in the moonlight, quieter than she ever did during the day.

She turned just as I straightened and our eyes met.

“Alpha Garrick?” Surprise flickered across her face with my name, followed quickly by something unreadable. She hadn’t expected to see me. I hadn’t expected to see her either.

“Didn’t see you there,” I responded. 

She smiled shyly, dipping her head with it. “I’ll just return to my…”

“No,” I stopped her before she could walk away. It wasn’t a command. Yet there was no other way I could say it. “Stay, please. A presence could help,” 

The distance between our balconies felt wider than it was. She hesitated, as if deciding whether to say something. Then she shook her head slightly, took a step back, and leaned on the rail.  

I remained where I was, staring at the empty space before me. 

Silence between us stretched for a while, until I broke it with a cough. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. Just..the cold,” I lied. 

“Then you shouldn’t be outside.” 

“I’m the alpha. I can stand the cold anywhere,” I boasted. 

Concern still etched on her face despite how hard she tried to buy my pride with a smile. 

“Why are you up?” I asked. 

“A nightmare. You?”

I studied her for a moment before answering.

“Same reason as you,” I said finally. “A nightmare.”

Her brows lifted slightly. “Really?”

I nodded. “Seems we have something in common then.”

She huffed a small laugh, surprised. “I guess we do.”

The sound was soft, brief—but real. It eased something tight in my chest. I found myself watching the way her smile lingered for a second before fading, how the tension in her shoulders loosened just a little.

Silence followed again, but it wasn’t as heavy as before.

“You handle nights like this often?” she asked.

“More than I’d like,” I replied honestly. “They don’t go away. You just… learn to wake up faster.”

She nodded as if she understood more than she let on.

I leaned my forearms against the rail. “You laughed just now. That’s rare.”

She glanced at me. “Is that an observation or a complaint, Alpha?”

“A compliment,” I said, amused. “I admire composure. And honesty.”

Her lips curved faintly. “Careful. That almost sounded like praise.”

“Maybe it was.”

The moonlight caught her face, softening her features. There was strength there, quiet and steady. The kind that didn’t need to announce itself. I found myself respecting it.

After a moment, I spoke again. “Tell me something.”

She tilted her head. “That depends.”

“What do you think of my son?”

Her expression froze—just for a second—before smoothing over. “Lucan?”

“Yes.”

“He’s… capable,” she said carefully. “Very dedicated to the pack.”

A safe answer. Too safe.

I let out a short breath. “Nyvara, I’m not blind. Nor am I sentimental when it comes to him.” I looked at her fully now. “He can be a prick.”

Her eyes widened, then she laughed—this time openly. “You said it. Not me.”

“But you were thinking it.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. He can be difficult. Arrogant. Reckless.”

“And?” I prompted.

“And,” she continued, choosing her words, “he has talent. Rare talent. The kind that doesn’t come from brute strength alone. He thinks ahead. He feels deeply, even when he hides it.”

That earned a slow nod from me. “Good. You see it too.”

She looked curious. “You don’t excuse his flaws.”

“No,” I said. “I expect him to outgrow them.”

A pause settled between us.

“Did you know he has a fiancée?” I asked.

Her head snapped toward me. “He does?”

I smiled faintly. “You see why I asked what you thought of him.”

“No,” she said honestly. “I didn’t know.”

“You will,” I replied. “In time. You’ll all know each other.”

Her gaze dropped to the courtyard below. “That should be… interesting.”

Silence stretched again, comfortable now. The wind stirred her hair, brushing loose strands across her face.

After a moment, she spoke. “Earlier… in the hall. There was a loud bang.”

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Nothing serious.”

She studied me, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press. “Alright.”

I turned my gaze back to the dark horizon, jaw tightening.

How could I tell my Luna that the earth itself had cracked? That the ground beneath the ancient seal—the one meant to hold darkness locked away—had shifted? That something old and dangerous might be stirring?

That kind of truth didn’t bring comfort. It brought fear.

And fear could drive her away.

So I said nothing.

For now, the burden was mine to carry. Mine, and the few I trusted to investigate it quietly. Until we knew more, silence was safer.