Kael ~ Alpha of Ironfang
The council chamber reeks of cedar polished to a high shine, but beneath it lingers the sour stench of betrayal—sharp, cloying, and impossible to ignore.
Twelve alphas surround the massive oak table, their eyes glinting like wolves circling wounded prey.
But I'm not prey.
I'm Kael. Alpha of the Ironfang Pack. The most feared name in these mountains.
And I'll gut every smug bastard in this room before I let them strip me of my title.
My grip tightens around the armrests, knuckles bone-white, my pulse a war drum echoing in my ears.
Raze, my wolf, stirs inside me with a snarl that vibrates through every bone in my body.
Rip their throats. Spill their blood.
I shove him down, teeth clenched so hard my jaw screams in protest. Wrestling Raze is like holding back a wildfire with bare hands—and I'm running out of strength.
Across the table, Alpha Torren leans forward, torchlight catching in his silver beard, his smile sharp and false.
"Kael, your instability's no secret," he says smoothly. "Your wolf is rabid. You're a danger to every pack in this region—especially your own."
A ripple of murmurs follows, heads nodding, eyes exchanging knowing glances. The ambush has begun.
Rowan, my beta, shifts beside me, throwing me a look that says: Don't take the bait.
Easy for him to say. He doesn't have a monster clawing at his mind, begging for carnage.
"Danger?" I snap, my voice slicing clean through the whispers. "Ironfang's borders haven't been breached in a decade. My pack is stronger than any of yours."
I lean in, letting Raze's gold bleed into my irises. Enough to make them flinch.
"You want to talk threats? Look in the mirror, Torren. Your pack's been smuggling rogues across my territory."
Torren's face reddens. Before he can respond, Alpha Veyra—wiry, sharp-eyed, Redclaw—cuts in.
"Strength means nothing without control, Kael. Last spring, you shattered a trade summit because a merchant looked at you wrong. Broke his spine. Your pack had to drag you off."
The memory stings. The merchant had insulted my mother. Called her weak. Raze took over. I woke with blood on my hands and fear in my pack's eyes.
"He lived," I mutter.
"Barely," Veyra bites back. "And what about your own pack? You broke a hunter's arm during a drill. Snapped it like a twig because he missed a shot. Your wolves fear you, Kael. They think they're next."
The words hit harder than I want to admit. I've seen it in their eyes—loyalty fraying into dread. When I roared at young Finn for stumbling on patrol, he flinched like I'd already struck him.
I'm their alpha. Their protector. But sometimes, I'm also their nightmare.
Torren doesn't miss a beat.
"And your family? Your mother's health is failing, yet you keep risking her safety. Last winter, you shattered her table during a rage. Splinters nearly took her eye. She's afraid of you, Kael. Too kind to say it, but we saw it."
My chest tightens. Mom's soft smile still calls me her little wolf, but I remember the fear in her eyes that night—sharp and silent. I'd been shouting at Rowan. Raze was boiling over. The table didn't stand a chance.
I apologized. Every day. It wasn't enough.
"And Mara," adds Alpha Rorik, the Stonefang brute. "Your sister—the heart of Ironfang—nearly took a chair to the face because you couldn't hold it together during a council envoy."
My fists curl.
Mara had laughed it off. Teased me about my aim. But her eyes betrayed her—wide, scared, distant.
I swore I'd never let Raze hurt her.
Every day, I come closer to breaking that promise.
"Enough!" I slam my fist on the table.
The wood groans beneath the force. Every alpha flinches, hands inching toward concealed blades.
Rowan nudges my foot under the table. Pull it back, he's saying.
I breathe deep—one, two—and stare them down.
"You want my title?" I growl. "Come earn it in the pit. Otherwise, shut your damn mouths."
Silence settles over the chamber, thick as fog.
Then something shifts. A scent on the air—so faint, so familiar.
Wildflowers. Fresh rain. Warm skin.
My pulse stutters.
Her.
My mate.
I haven't smelled her since I was a boy. Just a whisper of a moment—her hazel eyes meeting mine at a festival before she vanished into the crowd. That memory haunted me. But this… this scent is real.
And it's coming from Torren.
I lean forward, nostrils flaring.
Yes. Wildflowers… muddied. Tainted by sweat. Cheap perfume. Shame.
My stomach churns.
Torren was at one of Zane's clubs last night.
He touched her.
My mate.
Raze roars in my head, louder than ever, bloodlust rising so fast I almost black out.
The table splinters under my grip. Torren's smirk falters.
"What's wrong, Kael?" he sneers. "Smell something you don't like?"
I rise, chair crashing behind me.
The alphas go still.
"Kael?" Rowan asks, voice tight. "What is it?"
"It's her," I snarl, eyes locked on Torren. "My mate. Her scent's on him."
The room freezes.
Torren's face drains of color. His hand twitches toward his dagger.
He knows.
"Your mate?" Veyra scoffs. "In a nightclub? Sounds like another crack in your sanity."
"Shut up," I snap.
I stalk toward Torren, gold bleeding into my gaze, Raze barely contained.
"Where is she?" I growl. "What did you do?"
Torren's smirk returns—barely.
"Just a girl, Kael. Bit of fun. Zane's girls don't complain when the coin's good. I didn't know she was yours."
His tone is casual, but it lands like a blade in my spine.
Raze lunges.
Only Rowan's iron grip on my arm stops me from tearing out Torren's throat.
"Not here," he hisses. "You kill him now, they'll bury you for it."
I yank free, barely. My fury simmers, held on a razor's edge.
I step in close, my voice a deadly whisper.
"If she's hurt, you're dead. That's a promise."
I turn and storm from the chamber, past the guards, their whispers following me like poison-tipped arrows.
"He's lost it."
"Mad wolf's gonna bring it all down."
Outside, the cold night air slams into me. The wind carries her scent—clean now, soft, still real.
Find her, Raze begs—not snarling this time, but desperate.
And for once, we agree.
Rowan jogs up behind me, his limp more pronounced in the moonlight.
"You smell that?" I ask, voice hoarse.
He sniffs. Shakes his head.
"Just pine. And Torren's cologne from hell. What's going on, Kael?"
"She's out there," I say. "My mate. Torren was with her last night. Zane's club."
Rowan stiffens.
"Zane's clubs?" he mutters. "Damn. Those places are nightmares. You sure?"
"I'd know her scent in a hurricane."
I scan the valley. Her presence clings to the wind like a whisper.
"She's in trouble."
Rowan sighs, dragging a hand down his face.
"Great. So we're chasing a ghost through rogue territory while the council sharpens their knives. And here I thought tonight was gonna be boring."
A bitter laugh slips out.
"You? Bored? You tried to race a bear last week and lost your boots."
"Those boots were cursed," he says, grinning. "Come on. Let's grab your truck. But if we die, I'm haunting you."
"Deal."
We jog toward the lot, shadows long and cold. I fish my keys from my jacket, the truck's lights blinking in the dark.
Inside, the scent grows faint—but it's enough. It keeps me anchored.
"We'll start at the club," I say. "Zane owes me. He'll talk."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then we make him."
Rowan doesn't argue. He never does when it comes to a mate. He knows what it means—to find the one written into your bones.
As the engine rumbles, Raze quiets.
The hunt has begun.
And if I don't find her soon…
Raze won't be the only thing they'll need to fear.