The Instinctive Claim

Kael’s POV

The pack meeting was the antithesis of the stifling silence in my private wing. Here, in the main strategy room, the air thrummed with the raw energy of governance. I sat at the head of the obsidian table, the weight of the pack’s survival heavy on my shoulders.

“The eastern border remains vulnerable,” Beta Rhys stated, leaning forward, his usual snark absent, replaced by sharp focus. “The Rogues are probing again. We need to deploy the Third Platoon to cover that sector, Alpha.”

“No,” I countered immediately. “The Third Platoon is inexperienced with defensive maneuvers. We shift the responsibility. Fourth Platoon moves to the eastern valley by dusk. We secure the gorge with traps; that’s their strength. Give them the order, Rhys, and ensure Gamma Torvin understands that failure is unacceptable.”

Rhys didn’t argue. He rarely did on matters of strategy. He simply nodded, respecting the cold logic behind my command. I might be ruthless in my methods, but I was a good Alpha,my decisions were always calculated for the survival and strength of the pack, even if they were unpopular.

Once the other senior commanders had been dismissed, Rhys lingered, leaning against the door frame, his snark returning like a familiar, irritating itch.

“See? I told you. The bear is awake and calculating,” Rhys muttered, crossing his arms. “You look marginally less murderous this morning. Did the little Omega manage to scrub away some of your perpetual gloom?”

I glared at him. “She is a servant, Rhys. An efficient one. That is all.”

“She’s a damned good distraction, then. My mother cornered me yesterday, demanding to know if you were ‘tainted by that Omega's fear scent.’ Lyra is furious. Darius is spitting nails. Whatever your goal was, Kael, you achieved peak irritation.”

A cold satisfaction warmed my chest. “That was the point. Now they understand my authority is not up for negotiation.”

Rhys pushed off the door frame. “Be careful, though. That scent of hers, that fear… it’s oddly compelling. You claimed her for rebellion, Kael, but don’t forget that scent is powerful. It might claim you back.”

“Impossible,” I dismissed, picking up the reports. “She is a dust-wolf. A creature of absolute weakness. I own her submission.”

I ignored the smirk that Rhys gave me. I would definately make him pay for that at training. Smirking Bastard.

Later that afternoon, I was in the training yard, testing the new recruits and enforcing discipline among the ranked wolves. Training was necessary violence a place where dominance was physically asserted and respected. I was mid-spar with Gamma Torvin, a strong, arrogant male whose scent often carried a hint of simmering resentment toward my absolute power.

Rebecca was nearby, ordered to fetch water and clean the discarded equipment. I kept her close, forcing her into the public eye a visible sign of her new, controlled status.

Torvin landed a harsh hit to my ribs. I barely felt it, but I used the aggression, driving him back with a swift, powerful kick that winded him. As he stumbled backward, regaining his footing, his eyes locked onto Rebecca. A predatory, possessive malice twisted his features.

He saw the Omega who had been placed too high. He saw the easy target. He saw the object of the Alpha’s recent, baffling fixation.

Torvin didn't launch an attack toward me. Instead, he swung his heavy arm outward, aiming a brutal, deliberate backhand strike meant to send Rebecca flying against the stone wall.

Before my conscious mind could register the threat, before I even decided to move, my body reacted.

It was pure, violent instinct.

I was a black blur of motion. I moved directly into Torvin’s path, intercepting his strike. My hand shot out, grabbing Rebecca by the back of her tunic and yanking her fiercely behind my body,a crude, possessive shield. My left fist simultaneously slammed into Torvin's jaw with the force of a falling stone.

The Gamma crumpled, unconscious before he hit the dirt.

The entire yard fell into a dead silence.

I stood over Torvin’s twitching body, my breathing hard, the animalistic need to defend satisfied. I felt the slight tremor of Rebecca’s body pressed against my back.

Why? The word screamed in my mind. The action was unnecessary. The Gamma was merely striking an Omega, a common enough display of pack hierarchy. Why had my Alpha wolf treated her like the fragile, priceless core of my territory?

She is weak and I know it, I tried to reason with my brain. She needed saving. She is my pack. 

I spun around, releasing Rebecca only to grab her arm in a punishing grip. My human mind was suddenly flooded with a profound, cold irritation at the weakness of my own instincts. The involuntary protection irked me. It spoke of a bond, a concern, I refused to acknowledge.

“You clumsy, useless creature,” I snarled, my voice raw with misplaced rage. “Keep your pathetic self out of the line of fire. Your job is to serve, not to cause chaos and disrupt my training! You will pay for this disruption.”

Her eyes were wide, not just with fear, but with shock at my speed and fury. She was staring at my hand still clenched around her arm.

“I apologize, Alpha,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her entire frame shaking with fear. “It won’t happen again.”

“It will not,” I confirmed, releasing her with a shove that sent her stumbling. “Go clean up the training grounds. Every single piece of dust. If I find a single speck, the consequence will be severe.”

I walked away from her without another word, leaving the stunned pack members to deal with the unconscious Torvin. The damage was done. Torvin was punished for his disrespect of my property, but more importantly, I had publicly re-established the power dynamic: she was a servant, a disposable item whose disruption earned her further torment.

But as I strode back to my wing, the cold logic failed to soothe the animalistic satisfaction of that moment the sheer, blinding rightness of placing my body between her and harm.

Tonight, I would find a way to make her remember her subservience, and I would find a way to punish the instinct that had betrayed my control. The idea of her, small and compliant, trembling beneath my touch, was the only thing that promised a return to order.