The Spy and the Alpha

Silas’ POV

The first thing he noticed was the silence.

Red Moon territory wasn’t supposed to be quiet.

Silas tightened the strap of his pack and stepped past the boundary marker, the crescent brand on his inner wrist hidden beneath a leather cuff. He could still hear Marcus’ last words echoing in his head “If they catch you, they won’t kill you fast.” Comforting.

The forest here felt colder, darker like it had eyes. And maybe it did. The Red Moon Pack wasn’t known for kindness. Their Alpha, even less so.

Ethan Lupa.

The man Silas had studied in secret for months. The man responsible for his father’s death. The man he was here to destroy.

He should’ve felt fury. Instead, he felt... curious. A flicker of something dangerous.

He shoved it down.

They found him by the river, blood on his lip, pretending to limp. A wandering rogue. Just the right amount of pity.

“Name?” one of them barked.

“Silas.” A pause. “No last name. I don’t claim a pack.”

A lie, polished and sharp.

The two sentries exchanged a glance. One radioed in. The other eyed Silas like a hound sizing up prey.

“You're lucky Alpha Ethan doesn’t turn away rogues. He prefers to keep his enemies close.”

Prefect.

By nightfall, they threw him into a holding room in the outer barracks. No blankets. No food. Just walls that smelled of bleach and blood.

Silas sat cross-legged on the floor, his hands steady despite the throbbing behind his ribs. He’d taken a punch just before arrivingneeded the limp to sell. Pain was . Lies were everything.

He heard the door click.

Bootsteps. Heavy. Slow. Not a guard.

When he looked up, the air left his lungs.

Ethan Lupa didn’t walk, he prowled. Red eyes like molten steel, short rust-colored hair, scar along his neck like a signature. He was taller than Silas expected. Broader. More... real.

The Alpha studied him in silence.

Silas refused to look away.

“You're the stray?” Ethan asked finally, voice low and rough, like gravel under moonlight.

“I don’t bite,” Silas replied.

A long pause. Then

“You smell like Crescent Moon.”

Silas froze.

Then blinked.

Then smiled. “Guess I forgot to bathe.”

That earned a single step closer. Too close.

Silas could feel the heat radiating off him. The weight of his gaze. Something primal shifted in the roomand it wasn’t fear.

Ethan’s nostrils flared.

The wolf in him stirred.

Silas knew that look. Knew it from whispered stories.

Recognition.

But it passed as quickly as it came. Ethan’s jaw tightened. He leaned down, so close Silas could see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

“You lie like someone who's done it too long.”

“You threaten like someone who’s bored of the truth.”

A flicker in Ethan’s gaze approval? amusement? Then he turned his back.

“Get him cleaned up. Assign him grunt work. I want him watched.”

Silas swallowed hard. Not from fear.

From the spark crawling up his spine.

He wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

Later, when he was dumped into a shared barrack filled with low-ranked wolves, Silas lay awake, listening to their breaths. The scent of wet dog and sweat thick in the air.

He rolled onto his side, curling his fingers into the thin sheet.

The mission was clear. Get in. Gather intel. Find the weak points.

Then get out before anyone notices he was never truly theirs.

But something had changed the second Ethan Lupa walked in.

Something dangerous.

And now, with one look, the Alpha had locked Silas in placelike prey under claw.

Like something more.

He came here to bring the Alpha to his knees…

But tonight, under Ethan’s eyes, Silas wasn’t sure whose knees would buckle first.