The drive back to the pack house was silent.
The western patrol had been stabilized, but the forest still felt tense. As if the land itself was holding its breath.
Mark kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel. His posture was straight, controlled, unshaken on the outside.
Inside, something was wrong.
Very wrong.
He felt it building again.
Not anger.
Not a weakness.
Instability.
His dominance had always been steady. It was the foundation of Silver Crest. Warriors followed him without question because his aura never wavered. It did not need to shout. It commanded naturally.
Now it flickered.
Like a light with a loose wire.
Stacy sat beside him, quiet, sensing the shift.
Another pulse rippled faintly across the land.
Mark's vision blurred for half a second.
His grip tightened.
He pulled the vehicle to the side of the road abruptly.
The tires crunched against gravel.
"Mark?"
He stepped out without answering.
Cold air hit his face. He inhaled deeply.
Control.
He summoned his wolf forward.
It came, but not smoothly.
The usual connection felt distorted, as if something stood between them.
He walked a few steps away from the vehicle and braced his hands against a tree trunk.
His breathing turned shallow.
His dominance surged outward suddenly, too sharp, too aggressive.
Birds scattered from the trees.
Stacy stepped out of the vehicle carefully.
She felt the spike immediately.
It was not directed at her.
It was uncontrolled.
"Mark," she called softly.
He turned toward her, and for a split second his eyes flashed fully silver.
Not in authority.
In imbalance.
"I cannot regulate it," he admitted through clenched teeth.
Those words cost him pride.
She approached slowly, not rushing.
"You are too far from the center," she said gently.
"No," he replied. "This is not distance."
Another surge hit him.
He dropped to one knee again.
The ground cracked slightly beneath his hand as dominance exploded outward.
If any weaker wolf had been near, they would have collapsed.
Stacy felt the wave slam into her.
Instead of pain, she felt absorption.
The surge dulled the moment it touched her.
Mark froze.
He looked up slowly.
The instability receded slightly.
"You felt that," he said.
"Yes."
He stood again, slower this time.
"I have never lost control like this," he said quietly.
And that was the truth.
He had faced war.
Faced rogue uprisings.
Faced Alpha challenges.
He had never faltered.
Until now.
Stacy stepped closer, leaving only a small space between them.
"You are not losing control," she said softly. "You are losing balance."
His jaw tightened.
"Do not soften it."
"I am not."
She met his gaze steadily.
"You are strong. That is not changing. But something that anchored you is gone."
The words lingered.
He understood what she meant.
Their bond.
Even incomplete, it had existed.
An Alpha and Luna bond was more than romance. It regulated dominance flow. It stabilized instinct.
Without it, an Alpha's power could surge unpredictably.
He had known that in theory.
He had never felt it physically.
Until today.
His phone vibrated again.
Another Alpha calling.
He ignored it.
For the first time in years, his focus was not political.
It was survival.
"I cannot show this weakness at the summit," he said.
His voice was steady, but the admission was heavy.
She studied him carefully.
"You are not weak."
"If they sense instability, they will challenge."
He was right.
In Alpha politics, weakness was invitation.
Even allies could become rivals.
She stepped closer still.
"Then do not go alone."
He frowned slightly.
"I will not."
"That is not what I mean."
He looked at her fully now.
She inhaled slowly.
"When you stood near me earlier, your dominance steadied."
He did not deny it.
He had felt it clearly.
The moment she touched him, the chaos quieted.
That truth unsettled him more than instability.
He was Alpha.
He should stabilize the pack.
Not the other way around.
Another tremor rolled faintly across the land.
He swayed slightly before catching himself.
She reached out instinctively.
Her hand hovered for half a second before resting lightly against his chest.
The reaction was immediate.
His breathing slowed.
The flicker in his aura softened.
The sharp edge of aggression dulled.
They both felt it.
The contact was not romantic.
It was structural.
Like restoring a broken circuit.
Mark stared down at her hand over his heart.
"You are regulating me," he said quietly.
Her voice was steady.
"I think I am regulating the dominance surge."
He searched her face.
There was no triumph there.
Only concern.
And quiet strength.
He lifted his hand slowly and covered hers.
Not possessive.
Grounding.
The forest seemed calmer now.
Even the wind felt lighter.
For a brief moment, everything felt balanced again.
Then reality returned.
He stepped back gently, breaking contact.
The instability flickered faintly but did not spike.
"You cannot be attached to me constantly," he said.
"I know."
He studied her again.
"You should not have to carry this."
Her lips curved faintly.
"I carried silence for five years. I can carry this."
The words were not bitter.
They were honest.
He exhaled slowly.
"I thought divorcing you would protect you."
She blinked.
"From what?"
"From politics. From being used."
A muscle in his jaw tightened.
"The Council has feared your bloodline for years."
Her heartbeat quickened.
"My bloodline?"
He nodded once.
"You think it is coincidence that they approved the divorce within hours?"
The realization chilled her.
"They wanted distance between us."
"Yes."
"Because?"
"They feared exactly this."
Another faint surge moved across his system, but this time it was manageable.
She did not need to touch him again.
Just standing near him helped.
He felt it.
He did not like depending on it.
But he could not deny it.
His phone rang again.
This time he answered.
"Ravenwood."
The voice on the other end was Alpha Cedric.
His tone was strained but more stable than before.
"The surges are lowering slightly," Cedric said. "What changed?"
Mark glanced at Stacy.
He hesitated for only a moment.
"She is with me," he replied.
Silence.
Then a sharp inhale.
"It is her," Cedric murmured.
Mark's voice turned firm.
"She is not the cause."
"Then what is she?"
Mark ended the call without answering.
Because he did not know.
He looked at Stacy again.
The weak, overlooked Luna he had once believed needed protection now stood calmly before him while the continent trembled.
He felt something unfamiliar.
Not dominance.
Not authority.
Respect.
Another faint tremor rolled through the forest.
This time it barely touched him.
He straightened fully.
Control returning.
Not through force.
Through balance.
"We leave for the summit in one hour," he said firmly.
His voice sounded like his own again.
Strong.
Steady.
But now he understood something critical.
Without her, his crown would crack.
And if the other Alphas discovered that truth before he was ready to reveal it, Silver Crest would not just face political pressure.
It would face a challenge.
As they returned to the vehicle, Stacy glanced once at the trees around them.
The forest no longer felt chaotic.
It felt watchful.
The continent was shifting.
Power was redistributing.
And for the first time in his life, Alpha Mark Ravenwood knew that strength alone would not save his throne.
He would need her.
Not as a wife.
Not as possession.
As a balance.