Chapter 4: The Alpha's Judgement

Carson.

The knock rattled the door like it had something against me.

“You’re still in bed?”

Light knifed into the room the second the curtains were ripped open. My eyes stung, and I dragged my arm over my face.

“Are you trying to blind me?” I muttered.

Boots struck marble—each step sharp enough to stab. Raymond, of course. Always sounding like judgment given legs.

“It’s nearly noon,” he said. Slate-gray suit, black cuffs, everything about him matching the palace walls. “The seers are waiting.”

“Noon’s just the moon flipped upside down,” I grumbled, hauling myself upright. My spine cracked like an old door hinge.

Raymond didn’t laugh. He’d been born without the function.

“What kind of Alpha sleeps through the most important day of the year?”

“The kind whose wolf hasn’t tried to claw through his ribs for twenty-four hours. You’re welcome.”

My shirt lay abandoned on the floor. I yanked it over my head, the fabric still warm with sleep, and glanced at him.

“So. Did you find her?”

Raymond’s jaw tightened. “No.”

My brows shot up. “What do you mean, no?”

“We combed every record. Every log. No girl with black hair and a white streak. No herbalist fitting that description.”

“That’s not possible. I saw her.”

“Then you should’ve dragged her here when you had the chance.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. I still didn’t know why I hadn’t.

“She didn’t even recognize me,” I said instead. My palm pressed against my chest, to the silence beneath my ribs. “But she did something.”

Raymond’s gaze narrowed.

“My wolf stilled,” I whispered. “Do you hear me? For the first time in years. He shut up. No growling, no scratching, no bloodlust. Just… silence.”

For once, Raymond didn’t have a quip.

“You know what it’s been like,” I pressed, my voice sharper now. “Nights where I can barely leash him. Days where he’s rabid under my skin. But near her? It was like someone pressed pause.”

Raymond exhaled, quiet but heavy. “We’ve found no one. Which leaves only one explanation.”

I froze. “Say it.”

“She could be an outsider.”

A laugh tore out of me—short, sharp, dangerous. My jaw locked as I turned on him.

“You think anyone foolish enough to smuggle an outsider into my territory still breathes?”

Raymond’s gaze flickered away.

“Exactly.” I shoved my boots on, the leather biting back. “So we find her. Because she’s here. And she’s real.”

Raymond didn’t argue further. He just adjusted his cuffs, eyes flat. “Fine. But first, the ceremony.”

He left, boots echoing down the corridor.

I stayed behind, pulse thudding with the same thought looping over and over.

The girl with the white streak.

Who was she?

But the ceremony came first.

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The hall was already choked with bodies when I stepped in.

Robes of dusk and gold swept across the floor, voices overlapping in laughter and murmurs that all died the second they noticed me. Heads bowed low, a ripple moving through the room like I’d dragged silence in on my heels.

The incense stung my throat—bitter, smoky, clinging. I kept walking.

The dais loomed, my throne waiting at the top. Iron-backed, isolated, exactly like the position I held. The tiles whined under my boots as I climbed.

“Alpha Carson.”

The voice rasped from below. I turned.

A woman in pale robes stood at the base of the steps, head bowed. The pack’s healer. In her hands, a ceramic dish, a swirl of green ointment catching the light.

“For your scars.” Her voice was steady, though her hands trembled just enough to notice. “It will ease any irritation during the rites.”

I descended a step, plucked the dish from her palms. Dipped two fingers into the balm. Thick. Cold. Smelled like crushed herbs and wet earth.

“What’s in it?” I asked, mostly out of habit.

“The base mixture. And silverroot leaves, steeped overnight.”

My hand froze halfway to my skin.

“What?” The word came out sharper than I meant it to.

“Silverroot,” she repeated, looking up. “Hard to find this season, but we were fortunate last night.”

Silverroot. Narrow-leaved. Silver edges.

My mind snapped back to the forest. To her fingers brushing the plant, to the streak of white in her hair catching moonlight.

The girl.

I let the balm smear across my palm anyway, my gaze locked on the healer.

“Madam,” I said slowly, quietly. “Do you know a young woman with black hair… and a streak of white?”

For the briefest second, her lips parted. Her shoulders stiffened. A heartbeat of silence she couldn’t hide.

Then she lowered her gaze again, mask slipping back into place.

But I’d already seen it.

She knew.

Maeve POV

The basket dug into my hip as I climbed the path. Dirt soft under my soles, air thick with pine and smoke. My fingers burned from the weight, but the ache felt good—proof I was still useful, still alive.

The cottage came into view, slouched and familiar. The latch on the door hung loose.

I froze. I always lock it.

My breath snagged. Maybe she’d come back early. Maybe—

I nudged the door open with my hip.

There she was. Wrapped in her shawl, hands knotted in her lap. Relief shot through me—too fast, too sharp—until I saw her face.

Her eyes. Wide. Shaking. Silent.

She wasn’t relieved. She was warning me.

Her gaze flicked past me, to the door.

Run.

I turned but it was too late.

Wood shattered. Boots thundered in. Hands slammed me down, the basket skidding away. My knee cracked on stone, arms wrenched behind me. A cry ripped up my throat but never made it out.

“No—!” the old woman’s voice broke, raw and terrified. Two men pinned her. Two held me.

“What...? What are you..?” I thrashed, breath shallow. Panic surged cold, numbing my limbs.

Another pair of boots entered. Heavy. Commanding.

A man. Tall, broad-shouldered, black hair curtaining his face.

And those eyes—impossible, burning blue.

“You,” I gasped, chest seizing. “You’re the man from the lake—”

One of the soldiers snarled, jerking my arms tighter. “How dare you address the Alpha like that?”

Alpha?

The word slammed through me harder than the stone floor.

No. No, no.

This was Carson Sebastian. Alpha of the White Moon.

The man who had watched me at the water’s edge wasn’t here anymore. His expression was carved stone, stripped of everything human. No trace of softness, no flicker of recognition. Just cold, merciless authority.

He crouched, bringing those eyes level with mine.

His fingers brushed a strand of my hair, lingering on the white streak. Gentle. Too gentle. Cold.

“I looked everywhere for you,” he murmured. “Everywhere. I searched. I waited. I wondered…”

His gaze slid past me, to the old woman. Something hardened behind his eyes.

“But I never once thought someone would smuggle an outsider into my home.”

The air strangled tight around us.

Another man entered—blond, pale, carrying a scroll.

“Raymond,” Carson said, still crouched over me. “Read it.”

Raymond’s voice was flat, like stone breaking.

“Any outsider caught in White Moon territory will be executed. And any who harbor them…” His eyes cut to the old woman. To me. “…will suffer worse.”

The old woman’s scream split the air.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Carson’s gaze locked on mine, and in that moment I wasn’t afraid for myself.

I was afraid for her.

Carson’s shadow loomed over me, steady, unshaken. His eyes flicked once more to the old woman, trembling under the soldiers’ grip.

“Rules are meant to be followed,” he said, voice quiet but lethal. “So let’s remind them what happens when they’re broken.”

He straightened, gaze still fixed on her.

“Kill her. Here. Now.”

The old woman’s scream tore the air apart. My chest caved with it. I jerked against the hands pinning me, throat raw with a sound that never broke free.

Carson didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He’d already turned away, dismissing her as if she were ash in the wind.

“Wait.”

Raymond stepped closer, the scroll still in his hand. His face unreadable, voice low. He leaned in, whispering something sharp, something that sliced the air between them.

I couldn’t catch the words.

But I saw Carson’s face.

The Alpha who hadn’t faltered, who hadn’t shown a flicker of doubt—his jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. For the first time, his certainty cracked.

And whatever Raymond had just said, it changed everything.