Silas stood up from the plush leather sofa he'd been sitting on, his massive frame unfolding with the grace of a predator. His eyes darted to the pool stick resting against the side of the table before his large hand wrapped around it, testing its weight. He positioned himself, his broad chest stretching as his arm extended, muscles rippling beneath his dark skin as he prepared to take his shot at the colorful balls scattered across the green felt surface.
He paused mid-swing, his body going still. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, his head tilting slightly like a wolf catching an unfamiliar sound. His wolf stirred inside him, a warning rippling through his consciousness—something foreign, something that didn't belong here, something that made his instincts prick with both caution and interest.
"What smells really nice?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity that was rare for him. Silas was not a man given to wonder or questions. He dealt in certainties, in power, in dominance. But this scent was... different. Compelling in a way he couldn't immediately explain.
Derrick tensed immediately, his shoulders going rigid. His wolf was already restless, pacing anxiously in his mind, ready to growl in possessiveness, a reaction that both confused and alarmed him. He hoped desperately that the scent Silas had caught wasn't her Not Alera. If Silas figured out what she was, what she could do, he would have to fight him for her.
Trying to divert him, trying to pull his attention away from that dangerous line of inquiry, Derrick grabbed another pool stick from the rack on the wall and joined Silas at the table. "Let's get down to the matter at hand," he said sternly, his tone brooking no argument as one of the balls rolled between them with a soft click.
"You mean the Bloodfang pack?" Silas asked, seeming to let the question about the scent drop for now. He steadied his aim toward the only white ball, the cue ball, his eyes narrowing with focus.
"Yes," Derrick replied simply, grateful for the shift in topic.
"They've been quite a handful," Silas agreed, taking his shot. The crack of the ball against the ball echoed in the room. "Aggressive. Territorial. Making moves they shouldn't be making."
"You heard about their victory over the Wraithclaw pack?" Derrick asked, watching the balls scatter and roll.
"Yeah," Silas said, straightening up and turning to face Derrick fully. "I knew they had a young alpha. what is he, twenty-five? Twenty-six? But their antics are ruining the order of things. The established hierarchy. They're acting like they can just take whatever they want." He paused, then shrugged with apparent indifference. "Not that I care though. As long as they don't come for my pack, they can tear the whole region apart for all I'm concerned about."
"That's the problem with us lycanthropes," Derrick grunted, frustration evident in his voice as he lined up his own shot. "We're so united within our packs, loyal to the death, to our own. But when it's time for all seven packs to stand together against one rising threat, nothing happens. We fragment. We retreat into our territories and hope the danger passes us by."
Silas let out a booming laugh, dark and wild, the sound of it filling the room and seeming to make the very air vibrate. "You forget, Derrick. We're still animals at our core. Animals don't have order beyond the pack. Our goal is survival, even if it's in groups. The so-called Order of Alphas will only act when they're personally threatened, when the danger is at their own doorstep. Isn't that why we formed this alliance in the first place? To protect ourselves, not out of some noble ideal of unity?"
"We did not do that," Derrick said with a tired sigh, setting down his pool stick for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Your daughter is my son's mate. That's why we're allied."
Silas smirked, a dangerous expression that showed too many teeth. "No, Derrick. Your son is my daughter's mate. There's a difference in who holds the power in that statement."
"It's the same thing," Derrick said, looking at him blankly, "Anyway, with their bond it will be easier to unite the packs when we need to. But we still need the Dawnclaw pack as allies if we're to stand strong in case of war. Three packs united would make even the Bloodfang think twice."
Silas tilted his head, studying Derrick with those calculating eyes. "By the way, your son should come train with my boy on our lands. Soon."
"Why?" Derrick asked, suspicion immediately coloring his tone.
"Obviously, so my daughter can see him," Silas said with a casual shrug that was entirely too calculated to be genuine. "She's been a little sad lately. She feels neglected." He gushed, like a heartbroken father.
Derrick only stared at him flatly before continuing, "I've already sent a message to the Alpha of Dawnclaw," he said, changing the subject back to safer ground. "When he agrees to meet, I'll need you there. A united front."
"What makes you think he'll agree?" Silas asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically. "Dawnclaw has always been isolationist. They don't like getting involved in regional politics."
"Because he knows the times are changing," Derrick said quietly, his voice dropping to something almost ominous. "A purge is coming, Silas. The Bloodfang won't stop with Wraithclaw. They're hungry for power, and they're building momentum. Only the strong will survive what's coming, and even the strong will need allies."
The weight of those words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.
After a while longer of playing pool, the balls clicking and rolling across the table as they discussed strategies and politics in low voices, they finally exited the room, stepping out into the hallway beyond.
They had barely taken three steps when they heard it. A loud thump from somewhere down the hall, followed by a startled yelp and the sound of bodies colliding.
They both turned toward the sound and froze, their eyes taking in a scene that made no sense.
Alera was sprawled on top of Jackson, both of them tangled together on the floor in front of a door that stood half-open. Her nightgown had ridden up, showing far too much leg. Jackson's hands were on her waist, whether to steady her or push her off wasn't clear. Both of them looked shocked and disheveled.
Silas's eyes widened, his expression transforming in an instant from curiosity to outrage. His whole body went rigid with fury. A guttural growl escaped him, the sound of it making the air itself seem to vibrate with threat.
"What is the meaning of this!" he thundered, his voice echoing down the hallway. His eyes were glowing now, lit from within by his wolf's rage, and the temperature in the corridor seemed to drop several degrees from the sheer force of his anger.
* inside Derrick's office, minutes earlier *
Alera stood by the large window in Derrick's office, her bare feet silent on the floor as she looked out at the world beyond the glass. The sky outside was turning gray, heavy clouds rolling in like an invading army. The light had that peculiar quality it got before a storm, everything seemed sharper and more defined.
"It looks like it's going to rain again," she whispered to herself, her breath fogging slightly against the cool glass.
A memory surfaced unbidden, as clear as if it were happening right now rather than weeks or months ago. Rain pouring down, the sound of it on leaves and earth. Her master's hand stroking her hair with careful gentleness while she lay with her head on his thigh, wrapped in his warmth and the scent of him, old books and herbs and something uniquely him. His voice had been reading to her, she remembered, some ancient text about the nature of magic and reality.
Her heart ached at the thought, a physical pain in her chest that made it hard to breathe. She missed him more than she could bear. Missed his voice, his patience, his rare smiles, the way he made her feel safe even when they had nothing.
With quiet resolve forming in her mind, she decided to leave. She would find her way back to the forest somehow. She would search for him until she found him, no matter how long it took.
She turned from the window and moved toward the door, her bare feet making no sound. As she stepped out of the office into the hallway beyond, she collided immediately with something solid, someone who had been standing right outside, perhaps about to enter.
She stumbled, her arms windmilling as she braced herself for the impact with the floor, but instead she felt strong arms wrap around her waist, catching her before she could fall.
Jackson caught her, his reflexes wolf-quick. His breath was unsteady, coming in short bursts. Relief washed through him at first. Some part of him had been worried she might have disappeared somehow, vanished like a dream. But then he caught it: the faint scent of his father on her. On her skin, in her hair, the unmistakable musk that said his father had been close to her, had touched her.
His wolf snarled in his mind, a vicious sound of rage and betrayal and possessiveness. His hands tightened on her waist reflexively, gripping too hard, his fingers digging into her flesh in a way that made her flinch with pain.
"Stop," Alera said firmly, her voice cutting through whatever dark place his mind had gone. Her tone was commanding in a way he hadn't expected from her, authoritative despite her vulnerable position.
Her tone cut through his rage like a knife through fog. Jackson blinked, clarity returning to his eyes as he snapped out of whatever jealous spiral he'd been falling into. He loosened his grip immediately, though he didn't let go entirely.
"Excuse me," she said, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes. Her green gaze was direct, unflinching. "But why did you bring me here?"
The question hit him like a physical blow, stopping his thoughts completely. Why had he brought her here? The question was simple but the answer was impossibly complicated. He had a mate already, a mate chosen by the Moon Goddess herself, a bond that should have been unbreakable, all-consuming. He shouldn't even care about this girl, shouldn't have given her a second thought. Yet everything about her pulled him in like gravity, like magnetism, like some force he couldn't name or resist.
Before he could formulate any kind of response, before he could even begin to untangle the mess of emotions and instincts warring inside him, Alera acted.
She pinched his arm sharply, her fingers finding that sensitive spot on the inside of his bicep and twisting. He winced, the unexpected pain making him release her at once.
She took the chance to run, her bare feet slapping against the polished floor as she took off down the hallway at a sprint.
Jackson swore under his breath, a creative string of profanity that would have made his mother scold him and immediately gave chase. His longer legs should have given him the advantage, but she was fast and desperate, and she had a head start. Her bare feet pattered down the long corridor, and his heavier footsteps followed close behind, getting closer with each stride.
She darted down the stairs, taking them two at a time in a way that looked dangerous, that made him worry she'd fall and break her neck. Just as he reached for her, his fingers brushing the fabric of her nightgown, she turned sharply at the bottom of the stairs.
She slammed directly into a door that was opening from the other side at that exact moment.
Both of them stumbled, Alera from the impact, Jackson from trying to stop his momentum and avoid crushing her. They went down in a tangle of limbs, straight into the two figures who had been exiting the room.
Into Silas and Derrick.
Alera landed awkwardly on top of Jackson for the second time, her elbow catching him in the stomach and driving the air from his lungs with a whoosh.
Silas's furious growl filled the hall, the sound of it making the walls seem to vibrate. "What is the meaning of this!"