Page 27 of Rejected By My Shadow Alpha
A shadow moved across the tree line. I gave chase, and it vanished into the trees, silent as death. Whoever had been here was gone. There was no one. Nothing. Just the rustle of dry leaves and the echo of my own pounding heart. Still, I knew what I smelled.
Someone had been eavesdropping on my conversation. As the moon cast its glow on the white, snowy earth, my heart drummed with one terrifying, intoxicating question: How much had this person known? I couldn't afford to put Moonleaf in danger. Now, more than ever, I couldn't afford to be blind.
Not to my enemies.
Not to my allies.
And not to whatever it was I was starting to feel for Moonleaf.
Chapter 11
Ruby
The blonde dye was starting to fade again.
I stared at Liora's hair under the morning light streaming through the window. No matter how often I touched up the color, those silvery strands fought their way back like they were too proud to stay hidden or be erased. I reached out and tucked a lock behind her ear. She squirmed and mumbled something in her sleep, curled up under the faded wolf-print blanket she'd insisted on buying from the minimart last month.
At nearly seven, she had become more than just a spirited child. She was a storm barely contained in a small, beautiful body. What began as flickering lights when she was upset had grown into shattered mirrors, doors that slammed on their own, and wind that roared through closed windows. Just last week, she'd gotten upset at the grocery store when a young pup dragged the last muffin on the shelf and accused her of cutting in line for muffins. The air had crackled, and cold breezy wind began to drift in as she stared angrily at the pup, her hair flippingwith the wind where it seemed the energy was coming from. The temperature dropped so sharply that my breath clouded.
I had to drag her away before anyone could piece it together, laughing nervously and muttering something about a sudden change in the weather.
"You have to control your emotions, Liora," I said pointedly as we walked home. She didn't answer, but her silence said everything: losing the muffin stung more than my lecture did.
It was getting harder every day to keep her unnoticed.
Yesterday, Mrs. Feldman, an old, arthritic wolf who only came to the clinic when her joints screamed and wouldn't let her move, had caught a glimpse of Liora running out of the clinic.
"That hair," she'd muttered. "Silver as frost. Is she one of the blood-marked?"
My stomach had dropped. I smiled too quickly and lied too smoothly. "Oh, it's just dye. You know kids these days, all into the fantasy look."
Mrs. Feldman had squinted, unconvinced but too tired to argue. I'd chosen Littleton because it was quiet, remote, and surrounded by woods and wary neighbors who kept to themselves. But even here, whispers traveled. If anyone discovered what Liora truly was… if word reached my father, Alpha Alfred, or worse, the remnants of the Lunaris Pack, then all I had done to keep her safe would shatter like glass underfoot.
I sighed and stared briefly out the window and observed that the wind outside had quieted. Even the trees were still, as if waiting for something. I was reorganizing the dried sage bundles in the clinic, chamomile for sleep, comfrey for bruising. My fingers moved through the jars on muscle memory. The herbs in the jar were for Alex, the rogue wolf who was brought in at my doorstep, torn and barely breathing.
I wasn't sure he'd survive, but I'd stitched him back from the brink, guided more by instinct than certainty. And he hadsurvived. I recalled how he held my hand desperately, his expression pleading and insistent.
"Wolfbane22 is part of your secret network. Please tell him I am alive and fighting to stay alive."
Wolfsbane 22.
Our last conversation still echoed in my head. The moment I heard his voice, low, warm, and rough like a storm smoothed by time, something inside me jolted. My wolf had snapped to attention, drawn to him with a hunger I didn't understand. I hated how deeply I wanted to keep listening. I didn't even know him, not really, but somehow, his silence had said more than words, and it had left a mark I couldn't shake.
I'd asked him, carefully, maybe too carefully, if there was someone in his life now. If anyone had managed to reach past the hurt he carried, and he'd dodged the question with polished deflection, saying something about staying focused on helping rogue wolves. It had been so neat and practiced, but I'd read the silence behind his words. The pain. The regret. Something deeper that he hadn't wanted to say.
Why did I care?
He was a stranger. He was a code name on a screen, a phantom ally in a world full of shifting loyalties and dead ends, but every time I read his words, my chest tightened, like I knew him and had known him before. It was stupid. Dangerous. I didn't have space in my life for longing. I had a daughter to protect and a past to outrun. Still, when he said he regretted hurting someone…when he said he'd make it right if he could…
My hand trembled slightly as I sealed a jar of calendula.
Why did that matter so much to me?
The bell at the front had jingled earlier. Nia was tending to a rogue wolf with a limp and a fever in the next room. I wondered if it was Liora or another patient. A crash. Then silence.
I stilled.
"Liora?" I called, my voice tight.
