Mr. Alpha vs Mr High Wizard

Keon's POV:

The first thought that crosses my mind when I see her mother standing outside my room is not;

"Why is she here?"

It is absolutely normal for a mother to visit her child.

My question is:

Why now?

The timing could not have been worse.

Not because her arrival is unwanted.

Not because I do not respect her.

But because everything about this situation is a disaster waiting to happen.

Winter is inside my room.

Injured.

Wearing my clothes.

Carrying my scent.

Sleeping in the place that belongs to me.

And the woman standing outside my door is the mother of the person who is supposed to be my brother's future.

The woman whose entire kingdom watches her every movement.

The woman who cannot afford to be careless.

And neither can I.

Especially not now.

Especially when nobody knows what happened.

The truth between and Winter.

The second attack.

The fact that whoever came for her the first time was not finished.

The fact that the person responsible may still be somewhere inside these walls.

I am tempted to look back toward the room.

Even without looking I can still see her watery eyes on the door, her pale skin glowing in the sun and striking eyes.

It's a stab to the chest remembering she almost broke down because of me.

That alone makes something in my chest tighten.

Who knows what would've happened if I wasn't quick enough?

I came too close to failing.

Again.

Her mother stands there.

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

The greeting is polite.

Formal.

Exactly what it should be.

"Lady Winter's mother."

"Alpha Keon."

A simple exchange.

Nothing unusual.

Nothing suspicious.

Yet something in her eyes bothers me.

It is not anger.

It is not judgment.

It is something worse.

Understanding.

Like she already knows something I do not want her to know.

Like she looked at me once and saw through every excuse I had prepared.

Her guards move down the hallway without needing to be instructed.

Giving us privacy.

I watch them leave.

And suddenly, the reality of the situation feels heavier.

This is bad.

This is very, very bad.

Because if anyone sees this wrong, there is no explaining it.

Winter, the High Wizard's daughter and Derrick's "mate" in my clothes.

In my room.

While her husband is away.

While the palace is locked down.

While everyone is already watching my actions because of the treaty.

The rumors would write themselves.

And worse?

They would not only damage me.

They would damage her.

That is what bothers me.

Not what people say about me.

I have survived worse.

But Winter has spent her entire life being judged.

Every mistake.

Every movement.

Every choice.

She has carried expectations that were never hers.

The last thing she needs is another burden.

Winter's mother closes the door behind me.

Then I walk away.

Not because I want to.

Because I need to.

Because there are things I need to handle.

Questions I need answers to.

And if I stay in that room any longer, I might forget that.

The hallway is quiet.

The guards stand at a distance.

Far enough that they cannot hear.

Close enough to protect.

I walk past them slowly.

My mind returns to the same question.

Why is she here?

Her mother would not leave her territory without reason.

Not with the relic situation.

Not with everything happening.

Her arrival syncing with after Winter mentioned the Eye.

I don't find that to be a good sign.

That symbol.

The thing that should have stayed asleep.

For generations, the relics have been dormant.

I knew this myself.

After the war the wolves held possession of the staff as part of the treaty and to protect our people in case the witches became power obsessed again. Before Winter's foolish father's attempt I checked on the staff once a month.

The wolves never cared much for witch history, so I didn't know anything about the eye, aside from the usual myths on how it greatly aided the witches in the war and if it was to awaken again, all wolf kind would feel it.

And now Winter was supposedly seeing and having dreams about it.

Great.

Just great.

To us, they were ancient artifacts belonging to a people who disappeared into their own myths.

But now?

Now Winter is dreaming of them.

The Eye appeared.

Creatures are attacking her.

An image flashes before my memory.

The night Winter's father was caught.

The weather was horrible, with furious rain beating consistently against the earth. I had been discussing with Sabrina about working on the training schedules of the wolves when Rowan reported an emergency.

I knew it was bad when he used code red.

In our years together, we'd realized that sometimes, in the heat of battle or during dangerous situations, a quicker, more secure means of communication had to be adopted. So we assigned each danger level to a color.

A development that might result in injury or death got a code blue.

Situations with high risk and increased risk of injury and death got a code yellow.

Extremely dangerous situations got a code red immediately.

So when he mindlinked me and said nothing more than "Southern Caves, code red" I raced to the location immediately. That was were the staff was hidden. Only top officials knew if it's location, and it was deliberately hidden from the public. Who could've gained access to it and why?

So imagine my surprise, at my arrival to the Caves was none other than the High Wizard captured and restrained with ash wood laced ropes. His body was wet with rain but his eyes flashed like evil personally lived within them.

I immediately turned to Rowan, who held the now glowing staff.

The sight should have angered me, but instead it concerned me.

It was easy to get angry, to explode in a fit of rage.

But to understand what the eyes tries to tell the brain, not so much.

Rowan began explaining.

"We found him attempting to steal the staff after incapacitating the guards."

Behind the Witch, several guards lay bloodied, probably dead.

"You can't steal what belongs to you! That staff belongs to us! You bloody beasts hold our heritage hostage! If you do not return it all hell will rain on all the realm! It is the rightful property of the..."

I turn to the carnage behind and around us, blood mixed with rainwater and gore make cave stink of death. Limbs were scattered in different directions, heads severed as wide eyes stared into the open, as if pleading for some sort of justice.

These were the parts of my people, the blood of my wolves pouring out like water from a broken bowl, and this fool was blabbing on about heritage?

Before he can finish his sentence I dash at him, releasing my claws and striking him straight in the face. His blood spills past my finger tips as the gash makes his face leak.

He hisses at me, his speech interrupted.

Good.

That will shut the fucker up.

Rowan looks like he's thinking the same thing.

My mind is brought back to the present.

What if part of what the fool's words were right?

The thought irritates me.

Because I hate admitting that a man like him could have been correct about anything.

A man who destroyed himself chasing power.

A man who hurt people because he convinced himself it was necessary.

But the truth does not care whether the person who found it was good.

What if something big, something bigger than two territories in an ego contest, something really fucking big was happening and the staff being here was somehow worsening things? Like the staff was acting like a magnet attracting other supernatural problems?

I inhale deeply.

I hope the fuck not.

"Keon."

I blink twice and I'm back in the palace, but with Rowan looking at me with concern in his eyes.

How long have I been standing here?