All Chapters of SHADOWS OF THE ALPHA: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. The house just breathes differently at night—old wood, thin walls, every whisper caught and held. I’d gone for water and stopped when I heard my name.“…Clara,” my dad said, voice low but urgent. “She turns eighteen tomorrow. We can’t keep hiding it.”My mom didn’t answer at first. There was the soft clink of a mug and then a quick inhale. “She’s not ready.”“She needs the staff, Cecilia.” His chair scraped. “If the Rogues catch her before the moon does—”“Don’t call them that.” My mom’s voice trembled. “They’re not stories.”Rogues. The word slid under my skin like ice. Dad never called anyone “demons,” not really, but Rogues felt worse. Less distant, more animal. More real.“Clara’s father wouldn’t—” Mom cut herself off.My glass touched the counter too hard. A dull tap. I froze.Dad spoke softer. “Kennedy made his choice. You made yours. And I’ve made mine—she’s our daughter. But she’s also… she’s also his blood.”My stomach dropped. Kennedy. I knew th

The forest did not end so much as it thickened until I could no longer tell where one tree began and another ended. Mist crawled low to the ground, curling around my ankles as if it meant to trip me. Branches groaned overhead in a wind I couldn’t feel on my face. Every sound was doubled—my own heartbeat echoing, my boots crunching leaves sounding too loud, too sharp.“Clara.” Jasper’s voice was a low rumble behind me. It wasn’t a warning so much as a reminder. I slowed, trying not to trip over my own panic.“How much farther?” I asked, though the words came out choked, like my throat had shrunk three sizes.“Close.”That was all he said, as if the forest itself would punish him for speaking more.Then his hand shot out, fingers curling around my wrist—not gentle, not cruel, just absolute. “Look,” he said, pointing with his chin.Through the trees, something massive rose from the dark. At first I thought it was just rock, a jagged outcrop of mountain. But the lines were too straight, t

Sleep didn’t come so much as it dragged me down by the ankles and held me under. I didn’t fight. After the courtyard, after the heat and the crack and the way my bones had argued with themselves and then agreed on something older, I didn’t have fight left. Vivian helped me to my room—half-carrying, half-chiding—while Jason pretended he wasn’t limping and Lyra pretended she wasn’t satisfied. Jasper walked behind us, a quiet wall. If anyone spoke, I didn’t catch the words. Sound had turned into weather—there, around me, unavoidable, but not for me.My room in the Holdfast had one small window that looked at nothing in particular: a slice of pine and a sliver of sky. I sank onto the bed like the mattress had been waiting for this exact shape of collapse. My fingers could not decide if they were human or not. They curled, uncurled, curled again, nails biting crescents into my palm. I set the staff against the wall and the necklace burned once, a steadying pulse, then cooled to a heartbeat

By afternoon the Holdfast had learned how to pretend it wasn’t braced for a storm. People carried buckets as if buckets alone could keep roofs. Children played in a corner of the lower yard and shouted too loud because adults wouldn’t. Someone sang near the kitchens, a work song with no words. It all added up to the kind of quiet that stands on tiptoe.Vivian braided my hair back without asking. “So it won’t get in your eyes,” she said. Her fingers were sure. She kept tucking strays that didn’t want to be tucked. “Don’t be heroic. Be honest.”“Those aren’t opposite?” I tried to joke.“They are on bad days.” She tied the braid off with a strip of leather and thumped my shoulder, gentler than Lyra would’ve. “You come back and I’ll make soup so good Jason will claim he cooked it.”“I heard that,” Jason’s voice carried from the doorway. He didn’t step in. He didn’t have to. His presence pushes through walls. “Don’t embarrass us,” he added to me, tone so flat it would’ve been easy to mista

The knife traced a bright thought between us and the yard inhaled. Frost held to the shaded places; the rest was churned to a damp brown from all the feet that had come to watch something called training and hoped it would turn into something called blood. The drum from last night had found its morning manners but it was still there, a steady pulse barely louder than breath, thud, thud, reminding my body what bodies are for.Jason rolled his wrist and the blade listened. He was beautiful the way weapons are: simple, honest about their uses. He smiled like we were about to do a friendly thing. The pack made a shape around the circle. Vivian at the edge, still as a promise. Lyra had taken the place where the fence makes a shadow. Jasper stood near Vivian but not with her, like a tree that had chosen a piece of weather. Our eyes found each other and looked away in the space of a heartbeat. I didn’t need him telling me to be careful; my wolf had done nothing but whisper care, care, care s