All Chapters of The Alpha Forgets : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

11 The answer came faster than Adam expected. That alone made him distrust it. He was in his office when Matthew stepped in without knocking again and this time there was something different in his expression. Not urgency. Not alarm. Certainty. “He responded,” Matthew said. Adam didn’t sit. He stayed standing behind the desk, hands braced against the wood like he was already preparing to push back against whatever came next. “Through council?” Adam asked. Matthew nodded, holding up a folded document. “Official. Sealed.” Adam took it, breaking the seal without ceremony. His eyes moved quickly over the page, once, then slower the second time. Matthew watched him carefully. “Well?” Adam let out a quiet breath. “He agrees.” Matthew’s brows lifted slightly. “Just like that?” Adam shook his head once. “Not just like that.” He turned the paper so Matthew could read. Alpha Adam of Edgewater Falls, Your terms are acceptable. However, I set one condition. During the talks, it will

13 Adam didn’t run. He wanted to. When the call came in short, sharp, and carried by a warrior whose face had gone too pale. Every instinct in him screamed to shift, to sprint through the trees, to put himself between his pack and whatever new threat had just risen out of the dark. But an Alpha didn’t run first. An Alpha decided first. “Say it again,” Adam said, voice low. The warrior swallowed. “Highway pileup. Multiple cars. Two semis. Mass casualties. Dark Mountain vehicles involved.” The words landed like ice in Adam’s chest. “Dark Mountain,” Adam repeated, careful. “Yes, Alpha,” the warrior said quickly. “Pack markings. Two SUVs. Their escorts, at least that’s what it looked like.” Matthew was already moving, pulling on his coat with one swift motion. His eyes met Adam’s, and Adam saw the same thought there: Decker. Adam’s jaw clenched. “Lock down the perimeter,” Adam ordered, turning to the nearest captain. “Double scouts at the north and eastern borders. No one leaves wi

15 Cole didn’t knock. He didn’t have to. He’d been stationed outside that ICU room for three days, listening to the sounds inside the way warriors listened to the forest, reading shifts in breathing, tension in silence, the subtle changes that meant a situation had turned. When he heard the low male voice rough, awake, alive Cole’s posture snapped straight. He glanced at Rylan. “He’s up.” Rylan’s eyes widened. “Already?” Cole didn’t answer. He was already moving. Adam was in the war room when the message came. Not through a runner this time, Cole mind linked directly, voice low and clipped, the way pack guards spoke when the walls had ears. “Alpha,” Cole said. “He’s awake.” Adam’s fingers stopped moving over the map. His whole body went still, like a predator freezing before the strike. “How long?” Adam asked. “Minutes,” Cole replied. “He’s talking. With Lotty.” Adam’s jaw tightened. “Any agitation?” “Not yelling,” Cole said. “But,” a pause. “He’s watching. Listening. Like

17 The message went out before dawn. Clean. Controlled. Deliberate. No mention of Edgewater Falls. No mention of location. No hint of weakness. Only what was necessary. Alpha Decker of Dark Mountain is alive. An accident occurred en route. He is recovering and will send word soon. The truce stands. All hostilities remain suspended. Matthew handled the delivery through their council contact, layered enough that it looked internal, like it had originated from within Dark Mountain itself. By the time the sun rose, the message had already begun to ripple through Decker’s pack. And for the first time since the crash, the silence held. In the ICU, Decker felt it. Not as words. Not as confirmation. But as a subtle shift in the world beyond the walls like a storm that had been gathering suddenly paused, waiting. His pack had received something. His pack had listened. That mattered. He sat propped up slightly in the bed now, breathing easier than he had the day before, though every movem

19 The transfer was silent. No lights. No sirens. No names spoken. Just movement. Decker barely registered it. The sedative dragged him under before they even left the ICU, warm, heavy, pulling him into a dark that wasn’t quite sleep but wasn’t aware either. He felt motion at some point, the faint jostle of transport, the shift of hands lifting and lowering him, voices murmured low and controlled. Lotty’s voice was the only one that cut through. Steady. Focused. Close. “Easy… keep him level, don’t twist his torso. Watch the line, no, not that side…” Even sedated, his body responded to her presence. The tension that had coiled in him since waking loosened, just enough. Then nothing. When Decker surfaced again, it wasn’t gentle. Pain came first. It always did. A deep, dragging ache through his chest and abdomen, sharp threads pulling every time he tried to breathe too deeply. His arm throbbed where the IV had been replaced. His ribs felt like they’d been crushed and poorly reassembl