The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time Alexander carried the rogue through the dense forest, but the chill clung to his skin like a warning. The weight of her in his arms should have been insignificant—she was light, fragile in a way that irritated him—but the bond gnawed at him, fierce and unrelenting.
She was his mate.
And he didn't want her.
Elias ran beside him, his silver wolf a silent shadow through the trees. Neither of them spoke, but the tension between them thickened with every step.
They reached the packhouse within minutes, the grand stone estate looming in the mist-covered darkness. The massive structure had stood for centuries, its foundations steeped in Nightfall Pack's blood and history. Normally, its presence grounded Alexander. Tonight, it only reminded him of the weight of his responsibilities.
As they approached the entrance, several warriors on patrol tensed at the sight of their Alpha carrying an unconscious rogue. Their sharp eyes flicked to the woman in his arms, and immediately, the scent of unease thickened in the air.
"Alpha," Marcus, one of his strongest warriors, stepped forward. "Who is she?"
"I don't know."
Marcus's brow furrowed. "You're bringing a rogue into the heart of our pack?"
A challenge. Not outright defiance, but skepticism.
Alexander's patience thinned. "She was injured on our land. I decide who is a threat." His tone left no room for argument.
Marcus hesitated, then nodded, stepping aside. The other warriors followed suit, though their gazes remained wary.
Alexander strode into the packhouse without another word, the rogue's unconscious body still cradled in his arms. He ignored the questioning looks from passing pack members and headed straight for the infirmary.
The healer, Miriam, lifted her head as they entered. The older woman had seen decades of battle wounds, and her sharp blue eyes didn't miss much. She studied the rogue, then turned to Alexander without asking pointless questions.
"Set her down," Miriam instructed, already gathering supplies.
Alexander laid the rogue onto the medical bed. The soft light of the infirmary cast over her delicate features—too delicate for a rogue. She looked like someone who had once belonged somewhere, someone who had known safety before being thrust into the wild.
Miriam peeled away the tattered fabric clinging to the woman's body. Deep claw marks marred her pale skin, stretching across her ribs and arms. Some wounds had begun to heal, but others were fresh.
Elias stepped closer. "She was attacked."
Alexander nodded, his gaze locked on the rogue. "But by who?"
The precision of the wounds wasn't from a mere skirmish. This had been a fight for survival.
Miriam worked swiftly, stitching and dressing the wounds with practiced ease. "She has a strong pulse," she murmured. "She'll wake soon."
Alexander exhaled sharply. He should leave. He should distance himself before the bond tightened its grip.
But instead, he lingered.
His wolf prowled inside him, restless. Protective.
He didn't like it.
The storm had passed by dawn.
Alexander stood by the window of his office, watching the mist drift over the trees. His thoughts were tangled, restless. The mate bond gnawed at him, unwanted and undeniable. He had spent his life preparing to rule alone, to shoulder the burden of Nightfall Pack without dragging someone else into its cursed legacy.
His father had sworn he could break the curse. He had failed.
His grandfather had tried before him. Another failure.
Every Alpha in his lineage had watched their mates wither away, consumed by a dark magic no one understood.
And Alexander refused to be next.
A sharp knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Come in," he called.
Elias stepped inside, arms crossed. "She's awake."
Alexander turned. "And?"
"And she's asking for you."
His jaw tightened. Of course she was.
The infirmary was quiet when Alexander entered.
The rogue sat upright now, her back pressed against the headboard. Someone had cleaned her wounds, and she wore a loose gray shirt that was too big for her, likely borrowed from one of the pack's supplies. Her dark hair was damp, strands clinging to her skin.
But it was her eyes that caught him off guard.
Golden. Not amber, not hazel—molten gold.
Unnatural. Unforgettable.
The moment their gazes locked, something shifted between them. A pulse of recognition. Of something older than them both.
Alexander ignored it.
"Who are you?" His voice was even, unreadable.
She hesitated. "Aria."
No last name. No pack name. Nothing.
He studied her. "Who attacked you?"
A flicker of hesitation. "I don't know."
A lie.
Alexander stepped closer. "You expect me to believe you just wandered onto my land, half-dead, with no idea who tried to kill you?"
Aria looked away, fingers gripping the blanket draped over her legs. "I didn't have a choice," she murmured. "I was running."
"From what?"
Another hesitation. Then, quieter: "I can't tell you."
The air in the room grew tense.
Elias shifted beside him, sensing the evasion.
Alexander narrowed his eyes. "You're in my territory now, Aria. That means your secrets are mine."
Her jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
His wolf growled. She was hiding something.
And whatever it was—it was dangerous.
Alexander left the infirmary with his mind racing.
"She's lying," Elias said the moment they were alone.
"I know."
"Then what do we do with her?"
Alexander exhaled sharply. He should have already made the decision. Should have tossed her out or locked her away until she told the truth.
But he couldn't.
Not yet.
"Put her under watch," he ordered. "She stays in the packhouse. If she tries to leave, stop her."
Elias hesitated. "And if she's a threat?"
Alexander's expression darkened. "Then I'll handle it myself."
But even as he said the words, something in his gut told him this was only the beginning.