Chapter 2: The Alpha's Claim

Xander's hand fell away from Elena's throat like she'd burned him. He stared at the child in her arms. At the tiny face, red with fever, framed by dark curls stuck to her forehead. At the small chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths.

​Elena watched him process it. Watched the exact moment his wolf caught the scent beneath the sickness and rain. His scent. Their scent.

​"No." The word came out flat. Final. He stepped back, putting distance between them. "No. That's not—you can't—"

​"Her name is Maya." Elena's voice shook, but she forced the words out anyway. "She's four years old. And she's dying."

​Xander's eyes flashed pure gold. The air around him grew heavy, like a storm about to break. His Alpha presence slammed outward—a wave of power so thick Elena's knees almost buckled. The warriors behind him immediately dropped their heads, necks bared in automatic submission.

​Elena locked her knees and held her ground. Barely.

​"You disappeared." Each word was bitten off, sharp as broken glass. "Five years. Not a word. Not a trace. And now you show up with some bastard child and expect me to—"

​"She has Shifter Fever," Elena cut him off. She was shaking now, from cold or fear or fury, she couldn't tell. "Your Pack healers are the only ones strong enough to save her. So either help her or get out of my way so I can beg someone who will."

​The warriors inhaled sharply at her tone. You didn't speak to an Alpha like that. Especially not if you were omega. Especially not if you were an outsider on his territory.

​Xander went very, very still. For a heartbeat, Elena thought he'd strike her. Or shift. Or simply walk away and leave them both to rot at the border.

​Instead, he turned sharply on his heel. "Marcus. Take them to the hospital. Now."

​The largest of the warriors stepped forward, already shifting back into wolf form. Another warrior tossed Elena a blanket—not for modesty, but to wrap around Maya. Basic mercy, nothing more.

​"Can you walk?" Marcus's voice was rough but not unkind.

​"Yes." Elena pulled the dry blanket around her daughter with numb fingers. Maya's skin was so hot the rain had been steaming off her.

​"Then walk. Alpha's orders."

​They moved through the forest in a tight formation—warriors ahead, warriors behind, and Elena in the middle like a prisoner being led to trial. Xander led from the front, his spine rigid, not once looking back.

​The bond pulled at her with every step. Five years of silence, and now it ached, demanding she close the distance between them. Demanding she submit. Demanding she trust the mate who'd thrown her away like garbage.

​Elena gritted her teeth and ignored it.

​The Blackwood Pack compound emerged from the trees like something out of a dream—or a nightmare. Massive timber buildings with stone foundations, built to house hundreds. The Pack hospital sat near the center, a large three-story building with floor-to-ceiling windows.

​Xander shoved through the double doors hard enough to make them bang against the walls.

​"Healer!" His voice cracked like a whip. "Now!"

​Staff appeared immediately, drawn by the Alpha's command. A middle-aged woman with silver threading through her dark hair took one look at Maya and gestured sharply toward an examination room.

​"This way. Quickly."

​Elena followed, but Xander's hand shot out, catching her arm in an iron grip. Not rough. Not gentle either.

​"You stay where I can see you."

​"She's my daughter—"

​"She's in my territory, which makes her my responsibility until I decide otherwise." His eyes bored into hers, cold and ruthless. "Or did you forget how Pack law works, Omega? You have no rank here. No rights. No say."

​The words landed like physical blows. Elena wanted to fight. Wanted to snarl that he'd lost the right to call her omega the day he rejected her. But Maya whimpered from the healer's arms, and Elena forced herself to nod.

​"Fine. Just help her."

​Xander released her and stalked into the examination room. Elena followed, because he hadn't actually ordered her to stay out, and stood in the corner while the healer—Miriam, according to her name tag—laid Maya on the examination table.

​The room was too small with Xander in it. His presence filled every corner, heavy and suffocating. Even Miriam moved carefully around him, aware of the predator in her space.

​"Shifter Fever," Elena said quietly. "That's what the rogue healer diagnosed."

​Miriam nodded, already working. She placed her hands on Maya's chest, eyes closing in concentration. Healers could sense things normal wolves couldn't—infections, internal damage, the strength of a wolf's bond to their human half.

​Her eyes snapped open. "That's... unusual."

​Xander moved closer to the table. "What?"

​"Her heartbeat." Miriam's brow furrowed. She pressed her palm flat over Maya's sternum again, as if confirming what she'd felt. "It's thumping like a war drum. Strong. Impossibly strong for a child this sick." She glanced at Elena. "How old did you say she was?"

​"Four."

​"And she's already showing signs of her wolf?"

​Elena hesitated. Xander's gaze burned into the side of her face.

​"Yes. Since she was two."

​The room went silent. Wolves didn't typically shift until five or six at the earliest. Many didn't fully shift until their teen years.

​Miriam looked between Elena and Xander, realization dawning. "Who are her parents?"

​"That," Xander said coldly, "is what we're about to find out. Blood test. Full panel. Include paternity markers."

​"Alpha, she's very sick. The test can wait—"

​"Now, Miriam."

​The healer's mouth pressed into a thin line, but she nodded and began preparing the equipment. Werewolf healing was fast, but werewolf illness could be faster. Maya needed treatment immediately.

​But Xander apparently needed answers more.

​Elena watched them draw Maya's blood, then her own for comparison. The needle pinch barely registered. Everything felt distant, like she was watching this happen to someone else.

​"Results in twenty minutes," Miriam said quietly. "I'm starting treatment for the fever now regardless. Whatever she is, she's still dying."

​Xander's jaw tightened, but he nodded.

​Miriam worked quickly, giving medications through an IV, placing cooling cloths on Maya's forehead and pulse points. Gradually, slowly, Maya's breathing eased. The blue color left her lips.

​Elena sagged against the wall in relief.

​"Outside." Xander's hand wrapped around her bicep. "Now."

​He hauled her into the hallway before she could protest, dragging her past startled nurses until he found an empty corridor. Then he spun her around and caged her against the wall with both hands, his body so close she could feel the heat coming off him.

​The bond sang.

​"Five years," he growled. His eyes were more wolf than man now, glowing in the bright lighting. "You vanished for five years. I sent trackers. I searched for months. Where the hell were you?"

​"Far away from you." The words came out sharper than she'd intended. "Like you wanted."

​His hand slammed against the wall beside her head. The drywall cracked.

​"Don't." His voice dropped to something dangerous. Something that made her wolf roll over and whimper. "Don't act like the victim here. You're the one who ran. You're the one who kept—" He cut himself off, muscles coiling with barely restrained violence.

​Elena lifted her chin. Met his eyes even though every instinct told her to look away. "Kept what? The daughter you never would have claimed? The reminder of the omega you threw away because she wasn't good enough to be your Luna?"

​The mate bond thrashed between them, pulling tighter, demanding contact. Xander's breathing had gone ragged. He was so close now she could see the exact moment his gaze dropped to her lips.

​The sexual tension was a living thing, crackling in the air between them like electricity.

​"If that child is mine," he said softly, each word precise and lethal, "you will never leave this mountain again. I will lock you in the highest tower of the Pack house if I have to. You will never take her from me a second time. Do you understand?"

​Elena's heart hammered against her ribs. "And if she isn't?"

​Xander's smile was all teeth. No warmth. No mercy. "Then I'll throw you to the rogues myself."