My Alpha and My Pup Both Chose Her

I spun around, my hand instantly dropping to the steel hunting knife at my hip.

A man stepped from the dense wall of pine trees. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark gold eyes pinned me in place.

"Stay exactly where you are," I warned.

He ignored the blade gleaming in the moonlight. He took a steady step forward.

I retreated half a pace. My heavy boot struck something hard hidden beneath the fresh snow.

I glanced down. A charred chunk of oak lay half-buried in the frost. The jagged ear of a carved wolf stuck out from the blackened wood.

A year ago, I spent three months whittling that wolf for Jace's birthday. The boy took it from my hands, walked to the parlor fireplace, and threw it into the flames. "Dad says you are useless, and your gifts are garbage," my son had laughed.

I shifted my weight and ground my heel down hard. The brittle, burnt wood splintered into fine ash beneath my sole.

Shouts erupted from the manor grounds behind me.

"Find her!" Kael's voice ripped through the howling wind. "Do not let that bitch leave the territory!"

Heavy boots pounded against the frozen earth. Flashlight beams sliced through the falling snow, sweeping frantically toward the treeline.

I tightened my grip on the knife handle. "Did you bring them?"

"I brought no one," the stranger replied. His voice rumbled, deep and resonant.

"Then move out of my way."

"You broke a three-hundred-year-old barrier with a single thought," he observed, his golden eyes flicking to my right arm. "You do not need to run from them."

"I am not running," I said, my jaw clenching. "I am leaving."

"They will not permit that."

"They cannot stop me."

He closed the distance between us. I raised the knife higher, aiming the sharp tip directly at his throat.

He did not flinch. He walked straight into my personal space.

The sheer weight of his aura slammed into my chest. It was not a standard Alpha's scent. The air around him smelled of ozone and crushed pine, heavy enough to make my bones ache. Lycan.

My right wrist burned. The silver totem carved into my flesh pulsed wildly, reacting to his proximity.

"She went into the woods!" Marcus yelled from the distance. "Over here!"

The stranger dropped to one knee in the freezing mud.

I froze. The tip of my knife hovered just inches from his collarbone.

He reached up and gently curled his large, calloused fingers around my right wrist. His thumb brushed the edge of the glowing silver mark.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, pulling my arm back slightly.

His grip held firm, yet completely gentle. He lowered his head and pressed his lips directly against the glowing totem. The searing heat in my veins instantly cooled, replaced by a steady, thrumming hum of pure power.

"Paying respects to my Queen," he murmured against my skin.

I stared at the top of his dark hair. "I am no Queen. I am a rogue."

He lifted his head. Those dark gold eyes locked onto mine again. "You are Elara. And you belong to my court now."

"I belong to no one."

"A poor choice of words," he corrected. "You belong with me. I am Silas."

"I do not care if you are the Lycan King himself, Silas," I said. "Release my arm."

"I am the Lycan King," he stated.

My fingers twitched on the knife hilt. The stories Elder Thorne used to read in the archives flashed through my mind. The ruling monarch of the northern territories. A ruthless warlord who slaughtered entire packs for crossing his borders.

"Then you are far from home," I told him.

"I go where the moon guides me," Silas said. "And tonight, it guided me to a shattered crown."

"You watched the whole thing," I accused him.

"I watched a Luna break her chains," Silas corrected.

"You watched a mother get rejected by her son," I shot back.

"A boy who does not know the value of the blood in his veins," Silas said. "He will learn."

"I am not looking for a tutor for my son. I am looking for an exit."

"The woods are full of rogues tonight. Your broken barrier invited them in."

"Let them come. I have a knife."

"A steel knife against a hundred starving wolves," Silas noted. "You are brave, Elara. But bravery without an army is just a quick death."

"I am my own army."

The snapping of thick branches broke our quiet exchange.

Kael burst through the pines, flanked by four pack guards. He limped heavily, his crushed hand wrapped in a bloody, makeshift bandage. Snow clung to his dark suit, and his face was pale with fury.

"There she is!" Kael shouted, spitting blood onto the white ground.

He stopped dead when he saw the massive man kneeling before me.

"Get away from her, you stray!" Kael snarled.

Silas did not even turn his head. He kept his golden eyes fixed squarely on my face.

"Will you come with me?" Silas asked, his tone entirely conversational, as if the angry Alpha behind him did not exist.

"Why should I?" I countered.

"Because I can give you the one thing Kael never could," he said.

"My family's money?"

"Vengeance."

I stared at him. The cold wind whipped my hair across my cheeks.

"I do not need a man to fight my battles," I said.

"I am not offering to fight them for you," Silas replied. "I am offering to stand beside you while you burn this pack to the ground."

"Hey!" Kael roared, stepping forward. "I am talking to you, rogue! Step away from my former mate!"

Silas finally released my wrist. He stood up slowly, his massive frame towering over me, casting a long shadow across the snow.

"I claimed her first, stray," Kael spat. "She is broken goods, but she still owes this pack her life. Move aside before I put you in the dirt."

Silas looked down at me. "Do you want him dead?"

"Not yet," I answered. "Death is too easy for him."

"Agreed." Silas extended his broad, calloused hand toward me. "Make your choice, Elara."

Behind him, Kael let out a furious battle cry. "Kill him!"

Kael raised a long-barreled hunting rifle, the metal glinting under the pale moonlight.

The chamber was already loaded with silver-powder-coated rounds.

He aimed the muzzle directly at the center of Silas's broad back.