Ingrid's pov
The morning air was sharp with frost, biting through my cloak as I rode the eastern patrol. The sun had barely risen, casting pale light over the pack's outer wall. I could sense it before I saw it—the faint tremor of movement, the nervous excitement of wolves who thought they could outrun me.
And then I saw them.
Faunee, Ziko, and Thalora, moving with desperate precision, shadows slipping through gaps in the perimeter. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, restless and alert. I dismounted slowly, keeping my voice calm as I called the guards forward. What the fuck?
"Stop them," I commanded.
The chase was brief. Faunee froze when our eyes met. I could feel the fire in her, the same stubborn, impossible defiance she always carried. Thalora charged, furious and fearless. Ziko hesitated, caught between fight and flight. Chains rattled as my guards moved in, swift and precise.
Thalora spat at my boots. "You'll never hold us!"
I crouched slightly, letting my eyes meet hers. "Try me," I said. My voice was steady, but my wolf hummed in anticipation.
Faunee didn't speak. She simply let the guards close in, her gaze never leaving mine. That look—so steady, so alive—made my chest tighten. I did not like it. And yet I could not look away.
By mid-morning, they were chained and bound. Their restlessness filled the air, rattling the metal cuffs against the stone floor. Every glance Faunee gave me felt like a challenge, a silent accusation that I could not ignore. I should have felt only triumph at their capture. Instead, I felt… anticipation.
Ingrid's POV
By nightfall, the full moon hung heavy in the sky, bathing the field in silver light. Torches flickered along the edges, but the moon dominated, washing the crowd in cold illumination. The pack waited, rows of eyes gleaming, teeth bared in anticipation of ritual justice.
The chains rattled as Thalora, Ziko, and Faunee were brought onto the platform. I walked past the assembled pack, my boots sounding like drums of command, my cloak heavy with authority. The weight of their expectation pressed down on me like armor—but I could feel the soft pulse of heat from her, Faunee, even through the cold night air.
I noticed then: my gloves were gone. I had left them in my quarters. A minor oversight—except that gloves are armor. Gloves keep control. Gloves keep me from losing myself.
The crowd fell silent as I stepped onto the platform. The ritual demanded my voice, my presence, my command. I raised it:
"Three wolves stand accused of treason against the pack. They have broken our laws, betrayed our blood, and endangered the Alpha's command."
Thalora sneered; Ziko looked down. Faunee's gaze met mine, steady, unwavering, unafraid.
I stepped closer. My gloved hands would have kept me distant. Without them, I felt every heartbeat, every tremor in the air.
I reached out—and touched her cheek.
The world shifted.
A spark, wild and unrelenting, ignited between us. My wolf roared, and my pulse pounded like war drums. Faunee gasped softly, startled, instinctively leaning toward the brush of my fingers. I froze for a heartbeat, the crowd's eyes on us, their confusion rippling through the field.
Then the truth hit us both.
We are mates.
Shock flashed across her face, and my own chest felt like it might split. I wanted to pull back, to remember my position, to be the cruel me that I always was, to bury the fire that threatened to burn through me—but I couldn't. Not fully. Not when she was standing here, chained, and mine in ways the pack could never understand.
The murmurs grew louder. The pack sensed something, though they could not see the bond that trembled between us. They did not understand the dangerous fire we now shared.
I straightened, forcing the cold mask back over my face. My voice rang out, sharp, commanding:
"QUIET."
The crowd stilled, murmurs of confusion and outrage rising. "The prosecution is postponed. They will remain under guard, but no harm will come to them tonight."
Shock swept through the pack. Some whispered betrayal. Some whispered admiration. I ignored them all, letting my eyes find Faunee's once more. Chains rattled between her wrists. Our bond thrummed like a living thing. She did not speak. I did not speak. Words were unnecessary.
I brushed her wrist again, just enough for both of us to feel the connection, and stepped back, reclaiming the authority demanded of an Alpha. My wolf growled beneath my skin, wild and restless.
Claim her Ingrid, now.
Kaya's voice rand in my head
Not now.
My heart raced. My mind burned. And yet, the cold mask remained.
The moon shone down on the field, silver and merciless, yet it illuminated something neither of us could hide any longer.
We are mates.
And the world would have to wait.
The field was still bathed in moonlight, the silver casting long, sharp shadows across the assembled pack. The murmurs had grown into a low, buzzing hum—confusion, outrage, curiosity. Eyes flicked between me and Faunee like they were watching some forbidden ritual unfold. I could feel the weight of every gaze pressing down, every whispered question stabbing at my authority.
I dismissed the members of my pack with a small wave. Every wolf obeyed
I stayed on the platform, my cloak falling in perfect folds, the chains of command settling over me again like armor. My wolf was still thrumming, restless and insistent beneath my skin. I could feel her there, Faunee, still bound, still mine in ways the pack would never understand.
"Alpha Ingrid…" someone—one of my captains, I think—began, hesitant. "Are you sure about this? About postponing the prosecution? About…" Their words trailed off, eyes darting toward Faunee.
I fixed them with a cold stare, one I had perfected over years. "Yes. This decision stands."
My voice left no room for argument. Not now. Not ever.
But inside… inside, my pulse still raced. My fingers itched to brush against her again, to feel the warmth of her skin, the rhythm of her heartbeat through the chains. I could not allow it. Not here. Not with the pack watching. And yet, I could not stop the tension coiling between us, tight as steel.
Faunee's gaze never left me. Every subtle movement—the slight tilt of her head, the set of her jaw, the way she shifted on her chains—was a conversation in silence. We were speaking in the only language that mattered now, a language the pack could not hear.
Some of the younger wolves whispered. A few elder enforcers shook their heads in disbelief. And still, I let my eyes hold hers.
You will wait. You will survive. You are mine.
The crowd thinned slowly as the guards began to escort the trio back to the holding area. I descended from the platform, keeping my eyes locked on hers until the last possible moment. Each chain rattled like a heartbeat as she was led away, and every step she took was measured, deliberate. I mirrored it in my own way—my strides purposeful, my control absolute.
When the last guard disappeared behind the line of torches, I exhaled, the breath I hadn't realized I was holding escaping in a whisper. Alone on the platform, the wind stirred, brushing my hair across my forehead, cold and sharp. And yet the heat of her lingered—the memory of my touch, the pulse of recognition, the truth we could not hide.
I touched my cheek where my fingers had brushed hers earlier. It burned. I cursed myself for the loss of control, for the fire I could not snuff out. And yet… I could not regret it. Not really.
The pack will talk, they will whisper, they will judge. But for tonight, the law has bent in a way that only I could command. And the bond… the bond remains ours, untamed and undeniable.
I turned toward the shadows at the edge of the field, knowing she was watching me even now, even chained, even constrained. I could almost feel the weight of her gaze pressing against my back.
And I smiled—just a fraction, just enough—because no chain, no rule, no pack could erase what we had discovered tonight.
Clio would eat shit if she found out I found my mate before her.
I chuckled.
We are mates.
And the world, for all its laws and expectations, will have to bend around that truth.