Chapter 15: Chapter 15

SELENE

The battlefield was still, but no one was calm.

The wolves around me remained tense, their bodies thrumming with anticipation, ears straining for any sign that the fight wasn’t truly over. Weapons were clutched tighter, bloodied claws flexed at sides, ready to spring at the first indication of another attack.

The sirens still wailed through the night, vibrating in my bones, rattling the very air around us. The sound was meant to warn and direct—but now, it was just a grating reminder that the battle had left us all raw and exposed.

Our alpha stood at the center of it all—blood-slicked and unbothered. He didn’t need to say anything. His presence alone held them together. ~Held me together.~

A second howl cut through the air.

The tension snapped tight. Low growls rumbled, someone cursed under their breath, and a few shifted, ready to tear into whatever dared linger at the edges of our land. My own body stiffened, breath caught in my throat as I stared into the dark trees, waiting.

Then, a scout came barreling through the clearing, shifting mid-run, stumbling over the bloodied ground. ~“False alarm! It—it wasn’t a war call! It was a rogue, trying to call for help. He’s already dead.”~

The effect was immediate. Every wolf exhaled, shoulders dropping, teeth retreating behind lips. A few spat at the ground in frustration, cursing the unnecessary panic, but no one truly relaxed.

We were all on edge.

Even me.

Alpha Theron, still naked yet commanding, turned his head toward the scout, assessing him like a predator deciding if his prey had outlived its usefulness. Then his attention snapped to me.

His expression darkened.

~“Selene.”~

Oh shit.

His voice was low. Dangerous. The pack knew it too. The few who had lingered slowly stepped back, as if they knew better than to be caught in the crossfire.

He took a step toward me, his body all sharp angles and raw muscle, blood still drying across his chest. He was overwhelming like this—~unbound~, more beast than man. And furious.

“~Why~,” he started, deceptively calm, “~are you not in the stronghold like the rest of the vulnerable wolves?~”

“I wanted to help…somehow,” I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to shrink under his stare. “And I made sure everyone was inside before I did anything stupid.”

His nostrils flared. “Being out in the open, as a mortal who cannot just ~come back~ from wounds, is stupid.”

My pulse kicked up at his tone. He was pissed. Genuinely pissed.

I crossed my arms. “I had to make sure you were okay.”

He didn’t move, didn’t blink. But something shifted in the way he held himself, something unreadable settling in his storm-colored eyes.

“I am an alpha,” he said slowly. “I am ~your~ alpha, in case you forget. I can handle myself.”

I narrowed my eyes, tilted my chin up. “Right. That’s why you’re bleeding profusely from your side.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Instead of snapping at me, he turned sharply to Erik, who had wisely been pretending not to witness my spectacular decision to backtalk the alpha. “Handle the bodies. In one hour, we do a full sweep of the perimeter. I want to know if any of those bastards left us anything useful.”

Erik nodded. “Understood.”

Theron exhaled through his nose like he was biting down the urge to throw me over his shoulder and lock me in a room. Which was ironic, because two seconds later—~he scooped me up.~

Just. Lifted me. Right off the fucking ground.

I let out a strangled sound somewhere between a yelp and a curse, hands instinctively flying to his shoulders as he turned away from the others and started walking.

~“Alpha—what the—”~

He ignored me.

Someone ~snickered~ under their breath. I was going to fight them later.

“Put me down!”

“You want me to throw you over my shoulder instead?”

I shut up.

His grip tightened. He wasn’t just carrying me. He was ~keeping~ me. Possessively. As if he had already decided I wasn’t allowed to argue.

The sirens screamed louder as we reached the pack house. Theron didn’t pause, just strode straight through the back entrance. Inside, the dark walls swallowed us whole, shadows stretching long as he carried me through the corridors.

And still—he ~didn’t let go.~

Instead, he stopped in front of the control panel. His hands shifted lower, pressing into my hips, fingers flexing against my waist. My breath caught—not in pain, but ~awareness.~

“Turn it off,” he ordered, voice rough, strained, like he was fighting something much bigger than me.

I blinked at the panel. He could have done it himself. Easily. But it seemed his hands were too ~busy~ holding me exactly where he wanted me.

Heat curled low in my stomach, unwanted, undeniable, as I twisted in his grip, gripping his neck for balance. His skin was ~hot~ beneath my fingers, burning with the aftermath of battle. I could feel his breath on my face, the way his chest rose and fell with slow, controlled breaths. The position forced me to arch slightly, my chest brushing against his, my thighs clamped around his hips as I reached to flip the switch.

The sirens cut out.

Silence settled between us.

But he didn’t let go.

I turned back to him, breath unsteady, heart racing. His face was inches from mine, his clouded gaze unreadable. I should have moved. Should have said something.

But I didn’t.

Because I ~didn’t want to.~

His hands shifted, sliding beneath my thighs, adjusting his grip like I was nothing but a problem he had decided to ~handle himself.~

And then—he was moving again.

I sucked in a breath. “I can walk.”

He didn’t stop.

“You don’t make good decisions, Selene.”

I scowled. “That’s debatable.”

“It’s not.”

His voice was low, firm, leaving no room for argument as he carried me deeper into the pack house, his bare, bloodied body cutting through the halls like he ~owned the entire world and everything in it~—and right now, that included ~me.~

I should have argued, but the moment I opened my mouth to do exactly that, he ~tightened~ his grip, and I shut it.

The air grew heavier, thicker with the scent of iron and sweat as we descended into the lower levels of the pack house.

I knew where we were going before we even arrived.

The training room.

My stomach turned with something I couldn’t name as the heavy door came into view.

Theron didn’t hesitate. He pushed it open with one arm, carrying me inside like a ~fucking prize~, and then—he ~dropped me.~

I barely caught myself before I staggered, my hands clenching into fists. “What the hell—”

“Stay there,” he cut me off.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He was already turning toward the locker, yanking it open. He pulled on a pair of pants.

“You’re weak, Selene.”

The words ~cut.~ Deep.

Before I could react—he moved.

Fast. Too fast.

And I had no choice but to react.

One second, he was standing across the room. The next, he ~had me pinned.~

I gasped as my back ~hit the wall~, my wrists caught in a vice grip above my head. He loomed over me, body tense, breath coming hard and fast.

“What the—”

“Do you ~feel~ it?” His voice was rough, a growl scraping through his throat. “The way your body ~knows~ you should be stronger? The way your wolf ~wants~ to come forward?”

I swallowed hard, pulse hammering.

His fingers tightened around my wrists, pressing my arms harder against the wall. I wasn’t ~trapped~, not really. If I fought, he would let me go. But I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

Because he was right.

I ~felt~ it.

Like something ~clawing~ at the edges of me, something I had ignored for too long. A weight pressing from the inside, a presence waiting—~begging~—to be released.

His eyes darkened.

“Shift.”

I let out a sharp, shuddering breath. “I—I can’t.”

“Try.”

He leaned in, his breath grazing my jaw, my throat. His nose brushed against my pulse, inhaling deep. My stomach ~tightened~, heat flooding through me, overwhelming, unbearable.

“Alpha Theron—”

His grip on my wrists eased, just slightly, as if ~teasing~ me with the idea of letting me go. “You want me to stop?”

I ~should have~ said yes.

I ~should have~ shoved him away.

But I didn’t.

Because ~fuck~, I didn’t want him to stop.

My thighs squeezed together involuntarily, and his lips ~curved~ against my throat in the faintest, most devastating smirk.

“That’s what I thought.”

Then—he ~stepped back.~

The loss of heat was like a slap. My breath came fast and unsteady as he stared at me, gaze heavy, knowing.

“You will shift,” he murmured, his voice absolute. “And when you do, you ~will~ come to me.”

A challenge. A command.

And gods, I ~felt~ it, curling deep in my stomach, twisting low in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

“Again.”

My mouth opened, but before I could say a word—he ~moved~ again.

This time, I saw it coming.

This time, I ~fought back.~

My body ~reacted~, faster than it ever had before. My fist struck, my legs twisted, every movement ~precise~, like I wasn’t just ~me~ anymore. Like something ~inside me~ was waking up.

And my alpha—

He ~grinned.~

Like he’d been waiting for this.

Like he ~knew~ it was only a matter of time before I ~became what I was meant to be.~

His next words were a promise. A demand.

“You’re close,” he murmured. “I’ll drag it out of you if I have to.”

Then he lunged again.

And I knew—this was only the beginning.