The Alpha's Eye

Ezra couldn’t move.

His brain was stuck, replaying those three words like a broken record.

I choose you.

They didn’t belong to him. They weren’t meant for someone like him. They were the kind of words that went to pretty, soft-spoken omegas with clean reputations and perfect smiles—not to the sharp-tongued stray hiding at the edge of the firelight.

The clearing was dead silent. Every pair of eyes turned his way like he’d just set off a bomb.

His heart slammed against his ribs. Too loud. Too fast. Like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest.

Kael stood in the firelight, still and composed, a shadow carved out of stone. He wasn’t strutting like the other alphas. No cocky grin. No smug air of conquest.

Just watching.

His eyes were dark and steady, sharp enough to cut right through skin and bone. They didn’t just see Ezra—they studied him. Like they already knew what they were looking at.

Ezra hated the way that made him feel.

Exposed. Like Kael had peeled something open inside him without even trying.

He shifted, tried to take a step back—but two enforcers moved in fast, blocking his escape. Ceremonial uniforms, tight stances, fake politeness.

“Council orders,” one of them said. “Chosen omega steps forward.”

Ezra blinked. “You’re joking.”

“It’s tradition,” the other added, like tradition ever meant safety.

Ezra’s hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms.

“He can’t pick me,” he said, heat rising in his throat. “I’m not even—”

He stopped short. What was he supposed to say? Not on the list? Not worth it? Not the one?

“Ezra.”

Kael’s voice wrapped around his name like a thread being pulled tight. Calm. Certain. Like he wasn’t just calling him—but claiming him.

Ezra went still.

Someone laughed—a short, mean sound.

“This has to be a prank,” an omega muttered behind him, loud enough to sting.

The snickers that followed felt like sharp pebbles thrown at his back.

He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted metal.

“I’m not doing this,” he whispered, barely audible, but loud enough for Kael to hear.

But Kael didn’t argue.

He moved.

Not fast. Not dramatic. Just forward—through the crowd like he didn’t need permission. Alphas stepped out of the way. Elders stiffened. Even the other omegas held their breath, eyes wide, watching like they didn’t know whether to run or bow.

Ezra stood frozen.

Kael stopped right in front of him.

Up close, he was all danger and gravity—taller than Ezra had thought, solid in a way that made the ground feel smaller. His scent rolled over Ezra like smoke and old magic—earth, pine, and something darker underneath. Something wild.

Ezra forced himself to meet his eyes, jaw clenched tight. “You don’t know me.”

Kael tilted his head slightly. “I don’t need to. My wolf does.”

Ezra’s stomach dropped. No. That’s not how this worked. Not for him. He didn’t get picked. He didn’t get fated. He got overlooked. Left behind.

“This isn’t real,” Ezra said, voice low, almost desperate.

Kael didn’t flinch. “It’s real to me.”

And the worst part? He meant it. The way he said it—solid and unshakable—Ezra could feel the truth in it. That made it harder to breathe.

The crowd was whispering again now. More urgent this time. The tension was building fast, coiling like a storm waiting to break.

Then an older alpha stepped into the circle—his voice coarse and dry, the kind of sound that scraped across skin.

“Alpha Blackthorn,” he said, spitting the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “This claim is… inappropriate. The omega is unranked. He was not formally presented. He’s not—”

“Does that mean he can’t be chosen?” Kael asked without turning, eyes still on Ezra.

The elder hesitated. “Technically, no. But it’s reckless. Your pack’s reputation is already fragile. You were expected to bond with someone worthy—someone who could offer status.”

His eyes cut to Ezra like a blade.

Ezra didn’t look away. “You can just say it. I’m not good enough.”

Kael finally shifted his attention to the elder—his voice colder now. “No. What you mean is, I didn’t follow your plan.”

The elder stepped forward, low and threatening. “Be careful, Blackthorn. This could cost you more than you know. Your bloodline is cursed enough without you adding scandal to it.”

Kael didn’t blink. “I wasn’t born to follow rules I didn’t make.”

Then he turned back to Ezra—and did something Ezra didn’t expect.

He held out his hand.

Not commanding. Not demanding. Just… there.

An invitation.

Ezra stared at it.

Then at the circle—at the eyes watching, the mouths whispering, the judgment bleeding off them like cold rain.

His chest ached from holding back.

Screw it.

He stepped forward—and took Kael’s hand.

The collective gasp from the crowd cracked the air like lightning.

The second their skin touched, something surged up Ezra’s spine—heat, pressure, instinct. It wasn’t pain. It was power. His wolf growled low in his chest, uncertain and electric. Something in him reached back, even before his brain could stop it.

Kael’s jaw clenched. He felt it too.

The elder’s voice came next, tight with restraint.

“Bond acknowledged,” he snapped. “Against council recommendation.”

Kael didn’t even look at him. “Noted.”

Ezra let go quickly, like Kael’s hand might burn him if he held on any longer.

He half-expected Kael to gloat. To smirk like he’d won a game.

But Kael didn’t say a word.

He just looked at Ezra—calm, unreadable.

Like he already knew this was just the beginning.