Three Weeks with the Wolf I Should Kill

Aurora's POV

Five of my warriors stand behind me as I face down the Ironridge patrol across the disputed hunting grounds. The air between us crackles with hostility. Twenty meters separate us, but it feels like we're already at each other's throats.

Kieran Valens stands at the front of their formation. Even from here, I can feel the weight of his presence pressing down on me. That's what being an Alpha does to you. Makes your very existence a challenge to everyone around you. He's bigger than me, broader in the shoulders, with those cold gray eyes.

"Thorne." His voice cuts through the silence, low and rough. "You're over the line."

"This is disputed territory, Valens." I make sure my voice doesn't waver, even though my heart is pounding hard enough to crack ribs. "Anyone can hunt here. Or are you saying Ironridge doesn't recognize the Territory Accord anymore?"

"The Accord was signed twenty years ago." He takes two steps forward. My warriors shift into defensive positions instantly. "A lot has changed since then."

"Some things never change." I match his movement, stepping closer. Can't let him think I'm backing down. "Like the blood debt your family owes mine."

His jaw tightens. There's guilt in his eyes, or maybe anger. Whatever it is disappears fast.

"Your parents died in a war. Not a murder."

"Easy for you to say." The words come out hard. "Your father walked away. Mine didn't."

We stare each other down. Neither of us willing to be the first to retreat. I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, feel Ember pacing restlessly in the back of my mind.

The moment our eyes lock, Ember lets out this soft whine. Not a growl or a snarl. A whine.

I shove the feeling down hard. Ever since Ember awakened, she's wanted to tear his throat out every time we've crossed paths. But today she's acting like this? Must be nerves. Has to be.

"Go home, Thorne." Kieran's voice sounds tired in a way I don't understand. "I don't want to fight today."

"Scared?"

"Not scared. Just..." He stops. Shakes his head. "Forget it. You wouldn't get it anyway."

He turns and walks away, his pack falling in behind him. I stay rooted to the spot, watching them disappear into the trees. My chest feels tight, restless. I hate that I can't explain why.

One of the younger warriors moves up beside me. "Alpha, should we follow them?"

"No." The word comes out harsher than I mean it to. "We're going back."

The walk home drags. My mind keeps pulling me back twenty years, no matter how hard I try to focus on the present.

I was six years old when it happened. Most of the details are fuzzy now, worn down by time and trauma. But some images never fade. The burning houses. My mother shoving me into the cellar, her hands shaking. My father standing guard at the door. Then nothing but waiting in the dark, every second endless.

When Winston finally pulled me out of that cellar, everything was over. My parents lay under white sheets, surrounded by rubble and blood. The compound was destroyed.

"The Valens family did this," someone said.

"They violated the Accord. Attacked the residential compound directly."

"They need to pay."

But there was no payment. The war ended with a ceasefire agreement. Both sides gave something up, both sides got something back. Ironridge kept the eastern water source they'd seized. Nighthollow kept the southern hunting grounds. A fair trade, they called it.

Except it wasn't fair at all. It just meant the people who killed my parents got to walk free.

Twenty years later, I'm the Alpha of Nighthollow. Went from being a scared kid who lost everything to leading the whole pack. Every single day, I remind myself that the Valens family is the enemy. That Kieran Valens carries his father's sins whether he wants to or not.

I can't ever forget that.

"Alpha?"

Winston's voice snaps me back to reality. We're almost at the territory boundary. I didn't even realize I'd zoned out.

"I'm fine. Just thinking." I pause, trying to find the right words. "Ember was acting strange today."

Winston frowns. He's been with our pack since my father's time, served as Beta for both of us. He's the closest thing to family I have left. "Strange how?"

"When we were facing them down, she wasn't as aggressive as usual." How do I explain this without sounding crazy? "She pulled back. Went quiet."

He's quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Sometimes a wolf's instincts are sharper than our logic. If Ember sensed something off about the situation..."

"She was just on edge. We all were." I cut him off before he can finish that thought. "It's nothing."

I don't want to talk about this anymore. Ember's reaction has to have some reasonable explanation. Maybe Kieran's scent was off. Maybe I haven't had a real fight in months and my body is craving action.

Not anything else. Can't be.

While we're checking the border perimeter, I spot tracks that stop me cold.

"Winston. Look at this."

I crouch down next to a set of prints pressed into the soft earth. They're not from Ironridge. I know their scent by now, could recognize it in my sleep. These prints are messier, more scattered. And they smell wrong. Rotten. Desperate.

Winston kneels beside me, his expression going grim. "These aren't from any pack in the area."

"Rogues?"

"Maybe. But rogues usually travel alone." He points at the ground, tracing the pattern of footprints. "This is at least seven or eight wolves moving together."

That's not good. Rogues banding together means trouble. It means organization. It means someone's leading them.

"Double the border patrols," I order, already running through logistics in my head. "And get the intelligence team to check for any other unusual activity in the region."

Winston nods, but I can see the worry lines deepening around his eyes. He's thinking the same thing I am. This could be the start of a real problem.

But right now, I've got a council meeting to deal with, resource allocation to figure out, and trade negotiations with three smaller packs to the south. The rogue situation can wait a day or two while I handle the immediate problems.

Looking back, that might have been the biggest mistake I ever made.