All Chapters of An Alpha's Obsession : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

SAGE“What exactly does Callum have planned for Alex?”The question's been ringing in my head since she was accused. Deep down, I felt something weird was coming. It was too easy how he broke through the Clan’s borders… for the second time in less than a month. But pulling strings to frame Alex for that?No. It didn't make sense. It still doesn't. But there's only one place I know I can get the answers to my questions. “Take some men with you. Carry along as many materials as you need. We're rebuilding it all from scratch!”Liam's thunderous voice filled the halls the next morning as most of omegas and gammas trooped out of the packhouse with a single instruction labelled on their minds. “Rebuild the border!”Somewhere up there lays the answer.So I follow them, mingling with the familiar faces to see if anyone whispers anything that should catch my attention before we arrive. But the murmurs are boring and ugly. Stuff about how divided and messed up everything's been of late…

MAYAMoments bleed into minutes, and minutes to hours. Vials, files and rivalling techniques eventually lead me to the infirmary's backroom. The hidden center that serves as the root of all my work. It smells a bit different from what I'm used to. I rarely go down here after all. Less blood and panic. Only the subtle whispers or grunts from the station above manage to filter through the walls. The scent of ash-root, binding resin, and stabilizing salts hits its peak. Raw materials whose use have nearly tripled due to the ongoing reconstruction.I grind the last of the frostleaf into a shallow bowl, careful with the pressure. Too much force bruises the veins of the leaf and dulls its effect. These particular vials aren’t for wounds, but for endurance. For Omegas and Gammas rebuilding wards that should never have failed in the first place.I seal the mixture with a flick of my fingers and whisper the final binding word.Bubbling at first, the liquid stabilizes, crisp and clean.P

MAYAI haven't had the strength to focus in the infirmary. Worse, I've been pretending not to know why. Vials containing the wrong mixture, calculations off by hundreds, my head's not here. “Oh, fuck it” I murmur. I should be heading to bed, but I take the bend right before the general pack house in the direction of a room close to the barn. A room where I really have no business being in. The records room. Where magic lies and memory fails, paper does neither. If I really want to put my mind at rest, I have to bank on ink staying where it's put. A web of dust hits me the moment I shove the door open, dimming my vision. The bulb above me sparks before it finally clicks on, highlighting the narrow shelves carved straight into stone. No windows, herbs or healing salts. Just ledgers stacked by year, rotation, and patrol zone.Even if I can't prove that she was framed just yet, I can at least try to prove some part of it was an accident. Bad timing, pood judgement, anything at

ALEXMy third night in confinement is going exactly as it should. A barely flickering bulb buzzing above my uncomfortable mattress, a silence so thick my ears blister, and a candle of hope that's finally eaten up its last bit of wax.As if to punish me even further, I haven't heard from or seen Sage or Maya since the first day I was stashed in here. The Omegas in charge of my meals are rotated at the end of each one, yet I can't help but notice the off looks in their eyes. Whether or not the truth comes to light, the damage's already been done. As is the usual routine, a gentle knock taps twice against the cell when its time for dinner and I wait for warm food. Only time this, I don't hear the metal tray slide into my cell. Instead, another knock echoes, trying to get my attention.“You're meant to drop it in front. You'll get in trouble if word reaches—”A friction-gripped creak suddenly reaches my senses, and I turn to find the door to the cell swing wide open.“Hey Alex. It's

ALEXThe packhouse smells like blood and ash.But not the kind that's fresh or battle-hot.The kind that lingers after everything’s already been decided.I notice it the moment I return, and the pack members stare at me like something they still can't fathom. The first time in almost a week since they all see me. And I'm greeted, not by an apology or by an explanation, but by that careful silence that's unsure of how to respond.I slowly step into the corridor, half-expecting the walls to press in again, half-expecting someone to grab me and say it was all a mistake. That I’m still a threat or still the problem.No one does.The packhouse is awake in the way it gets after disaster. Quiet and alert. Wolves move with purpose but avoid each other’s eyes, and those familiar whispers trail behind doors and die the moment I pass.They know. They know everything. More importantly, they know I didn’t do it.And somehow, that feels worse.Still, unneecing as it is, my mind isn't focused on th