Chapter Three

Chapter three

Being the Alpha of several packs was never supposed to be my life. Not even close.

If you’d asked me at eighteen what my future looked like, I would’ve told you I wanted a degree in substance‑abuse counseling. I wanted to help wolves who struggled the way so many do—quietly, secretly, ashamed. I wanted a normal life, a quiet life, one where I wasn’t responsible for hundreds of people or the safety of entire territories.

But fate doesn’t care about plans.

Everything changed the night the rogues came.

They tore through our lands like wildfire, hitting three neighboring packs in a coordinated attack none of us saw coming. By dawn, the Alpha of the Silvercrest Pack was dead. By noon, the Alpha of the Moonridge Pack had fallen. And by nightfall, my own father—Alpha of the Fenley Pack—took his last breath in my arms.

Three packs. Three territories. Three leaders gone.

And one twenty‑year‑old suddenly expected to step up.

The elders merged the packs for survival. The territories were too close, too vulnerable, too exposed to stand alone. And because I was the last surviving Alpha heir, the mantle fell on me.

That was the day the Shadowcrest Pack was born—three packs united under one Alpha, one banner, one responsibility I never asked for but accepted anyway.

With the help of the beta families, I managed to juggle college and pack leadership. I’d attend classes during the day, then handle pack affairs from my office at night. It wasn’t easy, but it kept me sane. It kept me grounded. It kept me from drowning in grief.

Now, at twenty‑six, I’ve built something stable. Strong. Safe.

The only thing missing is my mate.

The elders keep pushing me to choose someone—anyone—to stand beside me. They say the Shadowcrest Pack needs a Luna. They say I’m running out of time. They say an Alpha without a mate is vulnerable.

But I refuse.

My mate is out there. I don’t care if she’s a rogue, an omega, or high‑ranking. I don’t care about bloodlines or status. When I find her, I’ll know. And I’ll love her with everything I am.

Until then, I wait.

Today has been the first peaceful day I’ve had in weeks. I’ve been away handling rogue sightings—too many for my liking—so being back in my office feels like slipping into a familiar rhythm. Paperwork, appointments, therapy sessions… normalcy.

My secretary, Joanna, pokes her head in earlier to remind me I have a new client scheduled for the afternoon. Nothing unusual. I expected a standard intake session, maybe a wolf struggling with anger issues or a human dealing with anxiety.

But my wolf, Axe, has been pacing since sunrise.

He’s restless. Uneasy. On edge.

Every time I ask him what’s wrong, he gives me nothing but low growls and frustrated whimpers. It’s unlike him. Axe is usually calm, steady, focused. Today he’s acting like a caged animal.

I try to ignore it and finish the last of my paperwork. The sun dips lower outside my window, casting long shadows across my office. I file the final document, exhale, and tell Joanna she can send the new client up.

I’m standing by the window when I hear the faint squeak of the door opening.

Immediately, my senses sharpen.

A wolf. Female. But… no scent.

That’s impossible.

Every wolf has a scent. Even masked wolves have something—a faint trace, a whisper of their essence. But this… nothing. It’s like standing in a room with a ghost.

Axe loses it.

He’s snarling, pacing, pushing against my skin like he’s trying to claw his way out. My pulse spikes. Something is happening. Something big.

I keep my gaze on the window, trying to steady myself.

“Hello,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I’m Dr. Colton Fenley. May I know your name? What brings you in today?”

Silence.

Long, heavy silence.

I turn.

And my world stops.

She’s standing in the doorway, frozen, staring at me like she’s seeing something impossible. Her long black hair falls in tangled waves around her face. Her skin is pale, too pale. Her frame is thin—far too thin for a she‑wolf her height. Her eyes… gods, her eyes. A piercing diamond‑blue that hits me like a punch to the chest.

And then—

“MATE.”

The word rips from my throat at the exact same moment it leaves hers.

Axe roars with triumph, with relief, with something primal and wild. Everything clicks into place—his restlessness, his agitation, the way he’s been clawing at me all day.

Our mate. She’s our mate.

But something is wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Why can’t I smell her? Why is her scent completely gone?

She’s a wolf—I can feel it in my bones—but she’s scentless. Masked. Hidden. And the only beings capable of masking a wolf’s scent completely are witches.

My mind races, but my heart… my heart is already hers.

She’s breathtaking. But she’s hurting.

I see the exhaustion in her posture. The fear in her eyes. The faint marks on her arms that tell a story she probably thinks no one can see.

Before I can take a step toward her, she shakes her head.

“No.”

One word. Soft. Broken. Final.

Then she runs.

She bolts out the door so fast I barely register movement. I chase her, but she’s quick—unnaturally quick—and without a scent trail, I lose her within seconds.

Axe howls in agony.

I stand in the hallway, breathless, furious at myself, terrified for her.

My mate. My mate is out there alone. And she’s suffering.

I force myself back inside and head straight to Joanna’s desk.

“Joanna,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, “the patient who just ran out—do you have her paperwork?”

“I do,” she says, frowning. “But it’s strange… she only listed a first name. No last name. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch it sooner.”

“That’s okay,” I tell her softly. “A first name is better than nothing.”

I take the clipboard and skim the intake form as I walk back to my office. My eyes land on the name written in elegant cursive.

Kieara.

Perfect. Beautiful. Strong.

A name worthy of a Luna.

Axe finally speaks, his voice a low rumble in my mind. I wonder what her wolf sounds like.

“Where the hell have you been?” I snap at him.

Silence.

Typical.

I close the link and open another.

“Lenox,” I mindlink my Beta. “You busy?”

“Not really,” he replies. “What’s up?”

“I need you to find someone for me. Her name is Kieara. She’s a new patient… and my mate. She ran before I could talk to her.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence.

“Your mate?” Lenox finally says. “Hold on—your mate is an addict?”

“Yes,” I say quietly. “She is.”

“But wolves don’t—”

“I know,” I cut in. “Something’s different about her. She had no scent. I think she’s been living with a witch.”

Lenox groans. “Man, Colton… can your life get any more chaotic?”

“You’re telling me,” I mutter. “I’m sending you a mental image. Find whatever you can.”

“You got it.”

The link cuts.

I sink into my chair, heart pounding, mind racing.

My mate is out there. She’s hurting. She’s alone.

And I will find her.

Even if it takes everything I have.