The Alpha’s Dilemma

The Alpha’s Dilemma

Tristan POV

Tristan stood outside the infirmary, jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. The scent of her clung to him even through the closed door—wildflowers and rain, maddeningly sweet, wrapping around his senses like a snare.

Thorne prowled in his chest, restless, claws dragging across his soul. She is ours, the wolf snarled. Claim her. Hold her. Protect her from everyone, even your own guards.

“She’s a stranger,” Tristan muttered under his breath. “A rogue. An ex-Pearl pack member. My mate or not, she is a risk.”

She is not a rogue, Thorne snapped. She fights like us. Bleeds like us. Smells like truth. You saw her eyes, Tristan—you know she is not lying.

Tristan dragged a hand through his pale hair, tugging at the strands until pain sparked across his scalp. He couldn’t let himself give in. The mate bond was a gift, yes—but it could also be a curse. If he accepted her blindly, he could be endangering his entire pack. The Melting Moon wolves depended on him to be cautious, to be ruthless when necessary. He didn't want to give them any reason to doubt him or his rule. Alphas were meant to be strong-willed and relentless. Accepting her could make him look weak.

And yet…

He remembered the sight of her tied to the cot, tears streaking her face as she begged him to believe her. He remembered the way her voice shook when she said Jalen had cast her aside for another. The way she’d said, I wasn’t going to bother anyone. I just wanted to survive.

It twisted something inside him. He’d seen rogues before, half-feral and consumed by madness. This woman was nothing like them. Her eyes still held fire. Her body bore wounds not from aimless violence, but from battle—desperate, defensive, raw.

“Alpha.” A voice broke his storming thoughts. His Beta, Liora, approached, bowing her head. “Do you want me to send scouts to check her claims?”

Tristan hesitated, then nodded curtly. “Yes. Just the woods past the border. If she speaks truth, there should be dead rogues not far.”

Liora glanced at the infirmary door. “And if she doesn’t?”

His gaze flicked to the faint light spilling from under the doorframe, and his chest tightened. “Then I’ll decide what to do with her.”

But when Liora left, Tristan stayed where he was, staring at the door as if sheer will could tear it down. His hands flexed, itching to untie her binding ropes, to comfort her, to soothe away the anguish he had seen in her trembling frame.

She is ours, Thorne growled again, the word echoing with primal certainty.

Tristan closed his eyes, his voice rough. “If she is ours, then why would the goddess tie me to a broken Luna? Why give me a mate who belongs to another? This could start a war”

The wolf’s answer was a low, steady rumble in his bones. Because she never truly belonged to him.