Chapter 2: Chapter 2

LUXURY

The scent of leather and aged wood lingered in the air of my study as I leaned back in my chair. The weight of the evening pressed down on me, the flickering light of the fireplace casting long, restless shadows across the walls. It was all I could see…shadows. But I wasn’t focused on the fire.

I was listening.

Erik, my beta, stood a few feet away, his stance rigid, his tone unreadable as he laid out the state of our borders.

“The northern perimeter remains secure,” he reported, voice steady. “But there’s been movement in the east. Hunters. They’re getting too close.”

I didn’t react immediately. Humans had always been a threat, lurking at the edges of our land, testing, trespassing. Centuries ago, they were at war with us, the Nightshade Pack—long before the treaty was signed, before the packs solidified their rule over the vast strips of land that now belonged to us. We fought for these lands, bled for them, claimed them through fire and war. And in the end, we won.

Now, humans knew better than to cross into ~our~ pack territory. The treaty had ensured that. Our borders weren’t just fences and old boundary stones—they were marked with the history of those who had tried to take what wasn’t theirs. For centuries, humans kept their distance, building their own world beyond our lands, tangled in their own affairs. They had their cities, their laws, their order. We had our own.

Over the years, the treaty had been amended—slightly. Just enough to suit our needs. The packs still ruled their lands with absolute sovereignty, but recent agreements allowed us access to a fraction of the human power grid. It was a quiet exchange, a concession made in the interest of keeping the peace. We didn’t rely on it, didn’t let it sink too deep into our way of life, but it was there—just enough to power the essentials in the pack house.

Refrigerators hummed in the kitchens, preserving what needed to last. A few small circuits kept the infirmary supplied when necessary. But beyond that, the pack still lived as it always had—off the land, by our own means. Lanterns burned in the halls, and fireplaces crackled in every room. Electricity was a tool, not a dependency. And we kept it that way for a reason.

Because nothing good came from being beholden to humans.

I drummed my fingers against the armrest, considering Erik’s words.

~Hunters.~

The eastern border was the only place where our land met human territory. A fragile edge between two worlds that had been separate for so long. And now, humans were creeping back, testing the lines they had once sworn to never cross.

“How close?” My voice was calm, too calm.

Erik hesitated for only a breath. “Close enough that the patrols have taken notice. They’re organized, Alpha. More than the usual poachers.”

I exhaled slowly, my fingers pressing into the armrests of my chair. I didn’t care for threats on pack land. Every inch of this territory was mine, bought with blood, protected with iron will. If these hunters thought they could test my borders, they were about to learn the cost of their arrogance.

“You’ve sent word to the scouts?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Of course,” Erik replied. “But we need to act fast. If they’re as coordinated as I suspect, they won’t wait long before making their move.”

A quiet, simmering rage curled through me.

“Tell me.”

Erik shifted, the faint rustle of fabric betraying his unease. “At least a dozen men. Possibly more. Armed, disciplined. They aren’t wandering through the woods with rifles looking for sport. This is something else.”

That caught my attention. Humans rarely understood what they were hunting when they stumbled into our land, and those that did often never made it back to tell the tale. But this…this felt different.

“How do you know?”

“The way they move. The way they track. It’s too precise, too methodical. They aren’t wasting time chasing prey—they’re closing in on something.”

My grip tightened on the leather armrests. “And what do you think that something is, Erik?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t like it.”

Neither did I.

I had run the land myself earlier, letting Fen stretch beneath the open sky, my paws sinking into the damp earth as I moved through the dense forest.

The wind had carried the usual scents—the crisp bite of pine, the lingering damp of the last rainfall, the musk of familiar wolves patrolling our borders. But beneath it, there had been something else.

Something bitter.

Something off.

I had stopped more than once, scenting the air, searching for the source of the unease curling in my gut. But I hadn’t found it. Hadn’t been able to place the disturbance scratching at the edge of my senses.

But now, Erik’s words pieced the fragments together.

The land had been warning me.

And I’d been too preoccupied to listen.

“Gather the best of the scouts,” I said, my voice cool, lethal. “I want full reports on their movements—where they’ve been, where they’re going. If necessary, I’ll track them myself.”

Erik nodded, sharp and efficient. “Understood, Alpha. I’ll begin preparations at once.” But then he hesitated, just for a second, before adding, “Do you think it’s just hunters? Or something else?”

That question gnawed at me too. The scent of humans always carried its own sharpness, but there was something else in the air tonight—an undercurrent of something bitter, something off.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” I admitted, more to myself than to Erik. “But we’ll find out soon enough.”

I stretched my senses outward, beyond the walls of my study. The night was quiet, but not peaceful. The wind carried whispers from the farthest reaches of the pack lands, the earth itself humming with unease. If there was something hidden in the dark, I would find it.

I refocused on Erik. “Prepare the pack, but no one goes in blind. If these hunters are organized, they’ll be expecting us. I want eyes everywhere, but I don’t want them aware of our presence. Do not engage unless we have the advantage.”

Erik’s posture sharpened with purpose. “Understood.”

For a moment, the room was still, the air thick with quiet anticipation. I rolled my shoulders back and exhaled through my nose. “What else?” My voice cut through the silence, expectant, unyielding.

“The patrols have been steady,” Erik said, the faint rustling of paper filling the silence. “But there are concerns among the lower ranks. Some of the younger wolves are still finding their place in the hierarchy.”

I considered that. Internal discipline was just as important as external threats. “Keep an eye on them,” I instructed. “Make sure they understand where they stand. We don’t need dissent with a fight coming.”

Erik nodded, but his next words carried more weight. “There’s also the matter of Selene Artemis.”

I stilled at the mention of her name. “What about her?”

“She’s still…waiting. No sign of a shift.” His tone was neutral, but I could hear the edge beneath it. “Some are questioning why she’s still here. They see her as a burden.”

I clenched my jaw.

Selene. The mortal girl who had lived among us for six years without shifting, without becoming what she was meant to be. The pack had been patient, but patience only stretched so far.

“She’s a liability?” I asked, though the words left a bitter taste on my tongue.

“She’s not exactly an asset,” Erik admitted. “She’s mortal, still stuck between worlds. She’s not a fighter. She’s not one of us.”

I exhaled slowly, fingers tightening against the leather armrests.

“How old is she now?” I asked, my voice unreadable.

“Twenty-one,” Erik replied. “She came to us when she was fifteen.”

Six years.

Six years, and still no wolf.

Erik shifted. “Her parents abandoned her. Haven’t spoken to her in years.”

That stirred something dark inside me. Wolves didn’t abandon their own. We protected our pack, our blood. But Selene was cast aside like she was nothing. And yet, she stayed.

“Why?” The word left me before I could stop it.

Erik frowned. “Why what?”

“Why is she still here?” My voice was lower now, quieter. “She could have left. She had no family, no ties. And yet she stayed.”

Erik was silent for a moment.

“She didn’t have many options,” he finally said. “Mortals who don’t shift usually leave by eighteen. If they’re useful, the pack keeps them on—as servants, laborers, caretakers. But if they can’t contribute, they either take the Outcast’s Road or—” He hesitated. “They don’t ~stay~.”

I knew what he meant.

Most who walked the Outcast’s Road never made it far. The world outside the packs wasn’t kind to those without protection. Other packs didn’t take in wolves without a shift. Human lands were worse—most mortals born in the packs had no place among them. The unlucky ones who left either wasted away on the fringes of society or were picked off by something worse.

Selene should have left years ago.

And yet, she hadn’t.

“Maybe she thought her wolf would come if she stayed,” Erik continued. “Maybe she had nowhere else to go.” He hesitated. “Or maybe she’s waiting for something else.”

I didn’t answer. Because, for the first time, I wondered if Selene herself even knew the answer.

The fire crackled behind me as I sat forward, elbows resting on my desk, hands steepled. “Arrange a meeting,” I said suddenly, the command slipping free before I could reconsider. “One-on-one. With me.”

Erik blinked. “With you?”

“Yes.” My tone left no room for argument. “Tomorrow.”

For a moment, Erik hesitated, as if about to challenge me. Then, he nodded. “Yes, Alpha.”

As he left, I sat in the stillness of my study, my mind reeling with possibilities of what was next.

Selene Artemis.

The girl who endured six years without a wolf. The girl who should have disappeared long ago but hadn’t.

She was an anomaly. A question left unanswered.

And I intended to find out why.