Three: The Alpha’s Instinct

Ronald’s POV

The night air in my chambers is cool, but it does nothing to temper the heat simmering beneath my skin. I lean back in my chair, a half-empty glass of whiskey dangling loosely from my hand, my eyes fixed on the flickering fire in the hearth.

Shadows dance along the stone walls, twisting like restless spirits.

But all I see is her.

The rogue.

I slam back the rest of the whiskey. It burns down my throat, a welcome distraction, but not enough to quiet the pull of the bond.

Mate.

I don’t say the word aloud. I refuse to give it breath. The Moon Goddess doesn’t bless men like me with mates. She cursed me the day I was born, cursed me to rule through bloodshed and fear. I made peace with that a long time ago.

And yet… the way she looked at me. Those storm-gray eyes, defiant even with my hand around her throat. She didn’t beg. She didn’t flinch. Most rogues would’ve pissed themselves by now, but she met my gaze like she wanted to slit my throat.

I should’ve killed her on the spot. That’s what a good Alpha would have done.

But something stopped me.

A low growl rumbles in my chest, and I shove myself to my feet, pacing the room like a caged beast.

My mother’s voice echoes in my memory, soft but sharp as a dagger: “A mate is a gift, Ronald or a weakness that will destroy you.”

I chose long ago: no mate, no weakness.

And yet here I am, haunted by a rogue’s scent, unable to shake the memory of her pulse thrumming against my hand.

“Damn it,” I snarled, hurling the glass into the fire. It shatters with a satisfying crack, flames flaring brighter.

My Beta, Lucas, slipped into the room without knocking. He knows better than to make me wait.

“Alpha,” he said cautiously, his gaze flicking to the shattered glass. “She’s secure in the cells.”

“Good,” I bite out.

“You want me to carry out the order at dawn?”

The thought makes my wolf lunge forward violently. I clench my fists to keep from tearing something apart. Kill her? The very idea sends a surge of rage through me I can’t explain.

I turned to him sharply. “No.”

Lucas blinked. “No?”

I stalked toward him, and he instinctively straightened, baring his neck slightly in deference. “Bring her to me,” I growled. “Now.”

His brows wrinkled, but he didn't question me. “Yes, Alpha.”

The moment he left, I grabbed my jacket and stride out of my chambers, heading for the dungeons. My wolf growls just beneath my skin, impatient, demanding I move faster.

The scent of mildew and rust fills my nose as I descend the spiral staircase. Guards cracked to attention as I passed, lowering their eyes.

When I reached her cell, she’s sitting with her back against the wall, knees drawn up, wrists chained above her head. Moonlight spills through the high window, bathing her face in silver light. She looks almost elegant like that, dangerous and beautiful all at once.

Her eyes snap open the moment she senses me. There’s no fear in them, only cold defiance.

“You’re back,” she says flatly, her voice hoarse but steady.

I step inside. The guards hesitate, but one look sends them scurrying away. The door clanks shut behind me, sealing us in.

She doesn’t move as I approach, though her body tenses. I crouch in front of her, close enough to see the faint freckles on her nose, the tiny scar above her left eyebrow. My wolf hums in satisfaction just being near her.

“What are you doing here, rogue?” I asked softly, dangerously.

She smirks. “Sightseeing.”

A sharp laugh escapes me, surprising even myself. “Wrong territory for that.”

“Seems so.”

I studied her in silence. Her wrists are raw from the shackles, but she doesn’t flinch under my scrutiny. She’s too calm for a rogue caught trespassing.

“Who sent you?” I asked again.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

She tilted her head, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “Believe what you want, Alpha.”

Something in me snapped. I grabbed her chin, forced her to meet my gaze. My wolf surged forward, his growl rumbling through my chest. Her scent slammed into me like a drug, intoxicating.

Mate.

Her pupils dilate, and I know she feels it too. She trembled, not from fear, but from the bond thrumming between us like a live wire.

I released her abruptly, stepping back. My hands curled into fists. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to claim her. The conflicting urges ripped through me like claws.

“You should be dead already,” I snarled, turning away.

“Then do it,” she shot back.

I froze, glancing over my shoulder. There’s no fear in her eyes, only fire.

My wolf growled his approval. She’s ours.

No, she’s trouble.

Instead of answering, I stormed out of the cell.

Lucas is waiting at the end of the corridor, confusion etched on his face. “Alpha?”

“Bring her out,” I ordered curtly. “Chains off. She’s to serve in the packhouse.”

He stared at me like I’ve lost my mind. “A rogue? In the packhouse?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No, Alpha.” He bowed his head and rushed off.

By the time I returned to my office, my temper was a coiled spring. My wolf paces, snarling for her. I drop into the leather chair behind my desk, gripping the armrests so tightly the wood creaks.

Logic says to kill her and be done with it. Instinct says otherwise. Instinct screams to keep her close, to guard her with my life.

Lucas knocks once before stepping in. “She’s ready, Alpha.”

“Bring her.”

Moments later, she entered, escorted by two guards. Her wrists are free now, though her hands are bound with rope. She’d been cleaned up slightly, her hair pulled back from her face, but her clothes are still torn and bloodstained.

She glanced around the office, her expression unreadable, then fixes her gaze on me.

“You’re not going to kill me,” she said, voice low.

“Not today.”

Suspicion flickers in her eyes, but she stayed silent.

“You’ll work here, in my house,” I continued, tone sharp. “You’ll clean, serve, and stay out of my way. Try anything, and I’ll put you down myself.”

She smirked faintly. “How generous.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “You’re alive because I allow it. Don’t mistake that for kindness.”

Her smile faded, but she didn't look away. She’s infuriating.

“Take her,” I told the guards. “Give her a room on the servants’ floor.”

They nodded and ushered her out. I watched her go, every step setting my wolf on edge.

As she was escorted down the narrow servant hallway, I trailed behind silently, far enough she doesn’t notice.

The corridors are dim, lined with flickering sconces. Servants pause to stare at her, whispering among themselves. I catch snippets:

“A rogue?”

“Alpha’s gone soft.”

“She won’t last a week.”

She ignores them, head high, though I see tension in her shoulders.

Then I heard it, a hushed conversation between two guards stationed near the servant’s wing.

“Alpha Council meets tomorrow,” one muttered. “And the Blood Moon’s less than a week away. You know what that means.”

The other grunts. “Yeah. Things are about to get bloody.”

The rogue falters for just a second. She heard them.

She keeps walking, but her spine stiffens like she’s just tucked away a weapon.

My wolf growls softly. She’s dangerous.

Good.

I turn and head back to my chambers, but my thoughts are tangled in her scent, her defiance, and the sharp glint in her eyes when she heard those words.

The Blood Moon is coming.

And so is war.