Chapter Five: The Alpha’s Judgment

Rafe

She looked back at me once as they led her out—hazel eyes wide with fear… and something else.

Recognition. Confusion. That flickering awareness that hadn’t settled yet but was there.

Under her skin.

Like it was under mine.

The door clicked shut behind her.

The room felt colder without her. Or maybe it was just me, unraveling from the inside out.

I didn’t move. Just stared at the spot where she’d stood, her scent still thick in the air—wildflowers crushed underfoot and something softer beneath. Warm. Clean. Human.

And undeniably mine.

The word burned in my chest.

Mate.

No.

I turned from the fire and gripped the edge of the table. The wood groaned beneath my hands, splinters digging in. I welcomed the pain. It kept me grounded. Kept the wolf from rising too fast.

It couldn’t be her.

It shouldn’t be her.

But it was.

I’d known the moment she lifted her chin and met my eyes like she wasn’t just prey—but someone who remembered how to bare her teeth.

And my wolf—my cursed, blood-hungry beast—recognized her.

Not as a prisoner.

Not as an enemy or threat.

As ours.

Worse than the scent, the pull, the heat under my skin—was the familiarity. Like I’d felt her before. Dreamed her.

Once, I prayed for this. For the bond to burn like it did for my parents.

That was before the blood.

Before fate turned cruel.

A low growl rumbled from my throat, enough to rattle the maps and stir the fire in the hearth. The walls felt like they were closing in with the weight of truth.

The mate bond had sparked.

And the chain of fate was already tightening around my throat.

A knock sounded—sharp. Deliberate.

“Alpha,” came Cassian’s voice.

My second-in-command. The only one who knew what I’d been dreading for years: the bond, and now the Moon Goddess’s twisted sense of humor.

I didn’t respond. Just listened to the soft creak as he stepped inside.

Cassian crossed his arms, unreadable as always.

“She’s settled in the lower wing. No chains, just as you said. She hasn’t said much.”

A pause. “She’s not like the others.”

“I know.”

“She’s his daughter, Rafe. Dorian Vale’s blood.”

My grip tightened until the wood creaked.

“You think I’ve forgotten whose blade slit my father’s throat?” I snapped. “Who burned our kin in their homes?”

“No,” Cassian said quietly. “But your scent’s gone wild. You’ve found your mate.”

I turned to him, jaw clenched. “She doesn’t know.”

“Yet.”

That made it worse.

Because if she did know… maybe she’d have run harder.

Or maybe she would’ve stayed.

That uncertainty churned like acid.

I pushed past him and stormed down the corridor, boots slamming against the stone.

I needed to see her again.

“Rafe—” Cassian started.

“Alone.” I said realizing i had said the first part aloud.

He didn’t follow.

I didn’t want to see her.

I needed to.

To look her in the eye and feel nothing.

Because if I felt something—anything—then the gods had cursed me for real.

The corridor narrowed near the lower wing, colder, rougher-cut stone. Her scent was already in the air, curling through the halls, tugging at the part of me I didn’t want to name.

My skin prickled.

My wolf stirred.

I reached the door. A guard moved to open it—I waved him off and did it myself.

She stood by the barred window, arms wrapped around herself, silhouetted in firelight. Her hair was down now—loose waves over her shoulders. She turned as I entered, spine straightening.

Still pretending she wasn’t afraid.

Still trying to be a hunter’s daughter.

But I could hear her heart pounding.

Taste her fear.

She was trying to be brave.

Her fists were clenched so tightly I saw her knuckles strain. Her jaw set, lips pressed thin—but her eyes flicked to my hands.

Watching. Gauging. Calculating.

I closed the door behind me.

“You don’t look like him,” I said, quiet but sharp.

She narrowed her eyes. “I take that as a compliment.”

“I wasn’t offering one.”

Silence.

I took a step closer. Her scent hit me again—too strong, too familiar. It took everything not to reach out. To feel if her pulse matched mine.

I closed my eyes, inhaling through my teeth. The way she smelled felt like a betrayal. Like the world had turned upside down and handed me the enemy in a ribbon.

“Do you know what your father did to mine?” I asked.

She didn’t flinch. But she didn’t answer.

“Do you know how long he screamed before the blade silenced him?”

Her lips parted. Breath caught.

“I was twelve,” I said. “Hiding in the trees. Watching smoke rise while my parents bled out.”

“I didn’t—” She stopped. “I wasn’t there.”

“But you’re his.”

“Well, I didn’t choose to be his daughter!” she snapped.

The words hit hard.

The bond hummed louder—warm, defiant. Cruel.

She looked at me and for a breath, I saw the crack in her armor. The horror. The fists clenched to keep herself together.

The bond flared again. Unwanted. Insistent.

“Why did you come into our woods?” I asked, stalking closer. Needing to close the space. Needing to feel nothing.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I didn’t know—”

“Didn’t know or didn’t care?”

She looked up, face pale but furious. “I like the forest. I like being alone. I wasn’t hunting.”

The sincerity in her voice pulled at something deep.

But no. I couldn’t afford to believe her. Not when the pack’s safety came first.

“I don’t know what you were doing,” I said. “But the daughter of a killer walked into my territory, and my wolf wants to tear the world apart for her.”

Silence.

She blinked. Her breath hitched. Her pulse jumped.

Her eyes searched mine, full of questions.

But she said nothing.

Just stood there, like I’d struck her.

The knowing. The ache. The impossible truth stretched between us like a wire.

She whispered, “What?”

I dragged a hand through my hair. I shouldn’t have said it.

She wasn’t ready.

Neither was I.

“This is a mistake,” I muttered. “A trick of fate.”

She stepped forward. “What did you mean? About your wolf?”

I turned away. “Forget it.”

“Tell me.”

I couldn’t look at her. Not when every part of me screamed mine and kill her at the same time.

Not with my wolf screaming that she’s ours, clawing desperately to gain control.

“You don’t belong here,” I said. “You shouldn’t be here. And I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with you.”

I met her eyes one last time.

Her jaw was tight. Her fists still clenched.

Scared. But standing tall.

It would’ve been easier if she’d cowered.

Easier to hate her.

Easier to send her back in pieces.

But she stood there—trembling, defiant—and I knew.

The Moon Goddess didn’t want peace.

She wanted war.

And she’d given me the perfect weapon.

Only… I wasn’t sure which of us she meant to destroy.

But I am not going down without a fight.