Page 11 of Fated
Kai stiffened, pulling back slightly, his wolf’s words cutting deep.
Ava pulled back, searching his face with an intensity that made him want to look away. “Don’t let him distract you,” she murmured. “You’ve already proven yourself—the warriors respect you, the pack will prosper under your oversight, and you’ve never backed down from a challenge. Darius wants you to followhispath, but we’re better than that.You’rebetter than that.”
Kai nodded, though doubt churned in his gut. Orion’s disapproval continued to rattle through his bones, making Kai’s teeth ache as if storm pressure had settled in his jaw.
“I need to get ready for training,” he said, pulling away.
Ava’s gaze lingered. “Don’t let your father get in your head. You already know what you want.”
Kai didn’t respond. Instead, he pushed through the door. The cool air hit him like a slap, raising goosebumps along his arms ashe strode toward the training grounds, his wolf restless beneath his skin.
“She isn’t yours,”Orion insisted.
“She will be,”Kai answered, each step dogged.“I’ll make sure of it.”
CHAPTER SIX
CALEB
The morning air bit at Caleb’s skin as he descended the hill, breaths steady and controlled from his early run. The rising sun caught in his chestnut waves, turning them golden at the edges and highlighting the powerful line of his jaw. Even at twenty-eight, he carried himself with the natural grace of a seasoned alpha. His broad shoulders and athletic build spoke to the legacy of his bloodline and years of training. Yet his hazel eyes held more thoughtfulness than most would expect from a young leader.
He slowed his pace as Erik’s cottage came into view. Anxiety crept into his chest as he wiped sweat from his brow. Fenrirtramped circuits behind Caleb’s ribs. Each loop sent ripples of awareness down his spine, vibrating through bone and sinew.
The cottage stood like a guardian at the edge of the main village. Centuries of moss and ivy softened its weathered stone walls. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, carrying the familiar scent of Erik’s morning tea—chamomile and something older, earthier. Caleb’s hand hesitated over the carved wolf-head knocker. He blew out a breath and rapped twice.
“Come in.” Erik’s gravelly voice carried through the door, rich with decades of stories waiting to be told.
Caleb stepped into the warm cottage, drinking in the space that had always felt like stepping into Crescent Fang’s living memory. Carvings of wolves adorned the mantle while shelves groaned under the weight of ancient books. A tapestry depicting Selene’s blessing of the first wolves hung above the fireplace, its colors faded but its power undimmed. The air carried the subtle mix of aged wood, dried herbs, and dying embers that Caleb had always associated with Erik’s counsel.
“Alpha.” Erik rose from his chair with a smile that softened his time-worn features. Though the years had carved deep lines into his olive skin, pack members still straightened when he entered a room, a habit left from decades ago when he’d served as Caleb’s grandfather’s gamma. Now Erik watched Caleb carefully as he gestured to the waiting chair. “You’re early.”
A steaming cup of tea waited on the small table between them, its herbal aroma mixing with the cottage’s familiar scents.
“Morning run was quicker than I expected,” Caleb said, clasping Erik’s extended hand. “I wanted to make sure we had enough time.”
Erik chuckled as he lowered himself back into his chair. “I’d expect no less. You’ve always been thorough.” He studied Caleb with a mixture of fondness and scrutiny that made hiding anything impossible. “You’re nervous,” he said.
Caleb’s fingers drummed against his thigh before he stilled them. “I am. Fenrir’s been...vocal. He doesn’t think we should go.”
“And what do you think?” Erik asked.
“I think...” Caleb’s gaze fixed on the tapestry of Selene. “Fenrir’s right to want to protect Crescent Fang. We’re one of the last packs whose hierarchy directly descends from the first wolves.” His fingers brushed absently over his chest. There, his bond with Asher pulsed steady and warm. “But Asher sees beyond our isolation. He believes these challenges—the rogues, the unrest—are signs the wolves need to return to grace. Asher thinks this summit is a chance for us to reclaim our place. To remind the Collective of Selene’s gifts and what it truly means to be Her children. To show them She hasn’t abandoned us.”
The mention of his lover brought a wistful smile to his face, even as his thoughts tangled around their differing views. When Asher spoke, Caleb found himself leaning closer, not just as alpha to beta, but as a male drawn to the one who knew the shape of his nightmares and still believed in his strength each morning.
“And where do you fall between their views?” Erik asked, with a knowing grin.
“That’s the problem. I don’t know.” His voice wavered, the weakness in his tone surprising him. “I trust Fenrir’s instincts, but Asher has a way of making me see beyond my wolf’s protective nature. He makes me wonder if there’s more to gain than lose, reminding me that sometimes the greatest act of preservation is evolution.”
Erik nodded, gaze growing distant as if watching memories play out. “You’re not the first Crescent Fang alpha to wrestle with this. Your grandfather, Odin, faced a similar choice.”
“When Crescent Fang withdrew from the Collective?”
“Yes.” Erik’s shoulders squared with pride even as lines of old pain shadowed his face. He reached for his tea, the steam curling between them like the threads of history itself. “Odin saw what the Collective was becoming—leaders more interested in amassing power than fostering community. He couldn’t stomach the betrayal of Selene’s teachings, the greed and ambition that poisoned the summit halls. So, he pulled Crescent Fang away, to protect what mattered most.”
“And it cost us our place,” Caleb said tightly.
“It preserved our soul.” Erik’s eyes blazed with intensity, voice ringing through the cottage like a struck ceremonial bell.
