The Alpha Mate

Chapter 67

He didn't look back once. Atlas moved ahead between the trees like a wraith, his steps soundless, his shoulders stiff with tension. The moonlight filtered through the pines, casting shifting shadows that seemed to wrap around him as he walked, like the darkness itself recognized him.

I followed, not too close, not too far, unsure of how to close the distance between us without shattering the thin line of tolerance he still gave me.

I didn't shift back immediately. I waited until we were alone, the rest of the patrol long behind us. Then, behind a thicket of trees, I returned to my human form.

Atlas didn't speak. Didn't offer a glance. Just kept walking, his pace steady. I matched his pace, watching the line of his jaw, the set of his shoulders, the way moonlight caught in his hair. There was still so much I didn't understand about him—but I wanted to. Desperately wanted to.

"Atlas," I tried carefully, breaking the silence, "earlier… when you moved like that through the trees—disappearing, reappearing—I've never seen anyone move like that in wolf form. Was that… your shadow manipulation powers?"

He nodded once, not slowing. "It's part of it. I've been practicing with Emmett and Russell. I can use the moonlight's shadows to slip across small distances. Like stepping between cracks no one else sees. Noelle says I'm getting better at it."

"That's… incredible," I said honestly. "I knew you were improving, but this… it's rare. And powerful. Most wolves never develop abilities like that."

"Thanks," he muttered, though his voice made it clear he wasn't sure why I was complimenting him at all, wasn't sure if he could trust it. "Is that what you came to tell me? That I'm useful now?"

The words stung, but I deserved them. I frowned, lengthening my stride to catch up, closing the distance. "No," I said, more gently. "It's not."

He didn't respond, but he didn't pull away when I reached for his hand. I took it carefully, halting him mid-step, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. His eyes lifted to mine—tired, wary, still guarded behind walls I'd helped him build.

"I didn't come out here to interrogate you," I began, my voice low, "and I didn't follow you to lecture or accuse you. I came because I needed to say something. Something I should have said the moment I saw your face after reading that damned letter from your brother."

I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry." He blinked, surprise flickering across his features.

"For everything," I continued, the words coming easier now. "For raising my voice. For doubting you. For treating you like you were just another threat when I should've known better.”

I took a deep breath, eyes watching his intently. “When everything you'd shown me should have told me you weren't. I'm the Alpha of this pack, yes—and I have to protect it. But that doesn't give me the right to treat the people in it like they're less than human. Or less than worthy of trust."

His lips parted, as if to say something, but I went on, needing to finish. "You asked me what I wanted from you. And I didn't answer, because I didn't think I deserved to. But you deserve every answer I can give you."

I paused, searching his face, but he just stared up at me, silent, blue eyes reflecting moonlight.

"I take rogue threats that seriously because four years ago… one of them took my mate from me. My Luna."

He stiffened, just barely. I exhaled slowly, already feeling the pain of those words in my chest. "She was..."

"I know," Atlas interrupted quietly. I looked at him, surprised.

"Someone already told me about it," he added, glancing away. "What happened to her. I never brought it up because I knew… it wasn't mine to ask about. And I know what it's like to have old wounds dragged into the light, so you have no need to bring that up now."

His voice was soft, but not cold. There was no bitterness in his tone. Just understanding. That quiet empathy hit deeper than any declaration of trust ever could. For a moment, we stood in silence, only the forest breathing around us.

Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small leather cord. Dangling from it was a simple pendant—an old wolf fang, dulled with age, the tip inlaid with small blood-red rubies that caught the moonlight. He blinked at it, confused, his brows drawing together.

"This belonged to my mother," I said, my voice rough with emotion. "She had it enchanted by a witch. Said it would ward off evil and bring peace to the one who wore it. She gave it to me when I became Alpha of our pack, told me to keep it safe until I found someone who needed it more than I did."

I pressed it gently into his palm, closing his fingers around it. "I want you to have it."

His fingers curled around it instinctively, brows furrowing deeper. "Draven— No, I can't—"

"You can," I said firmly. "And I want you to. I want you to have something that's meant to protect. Something to remind you that this place can still be yours. That you belong here. That you deserve peace, Atlas. You always have." His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly.

"And for the record," I added, my voice dropping lower, "whoever made you believe you were anything less than worthy of love and care—they were wrong. Dead wrong. And if it takes the rest of my life to prove that to you, I will."

He stared at me, stunned, lips parted. Color bloomed in his cheeks, spreading across pale skin, and I reached up, brushing a thumb gently over the heat of his skin. He leaned into the touch, his eyes softening, lips parting further.

"I mean it," I whispered, my forehead tipping toward his, close enough to feel his breath. "Let me prove it. Please."

And when he didn't pull away—when he closed his eyes and tilted his face up, lips seeking mine—I leaned in. Our lips were just about to touch, close enough that I could taste his breath.

Then a howl cut through the night. Urgent. Sharp. Not far off. Another followed. Then a third, an alarm call.

The connection snapped instantly, instinct taking over. Atlas stepped back, the moment broken. I turned toward the sound, eyes narrowing, body tensing. Seconds later, a blur of motion burst through the trees.

Aaron. His wolf shifted mid-stride, and he landed in a crouch, panting, eyes wide. "Alpha," he said breathlessly, eyes flicking between me and Atlas, taking in our proximity, "you need to come. Now."

"What is it?" I asked, already on edge, adrenaline flooding my system.

"Strangers," he said, catching his breath. "At the gate."

I stiffened, my hand instinctively moving to Atlas's shoulder protectively. "Who?"

"We don't know yet. But they asked to speak to you." Aaron's gaze flicked to Atlas, something uncertain in his expression. "Said they came… for him."

I turned to look at Atlas. And his face went pale, the color draining away, leaving him ashen in the moonlight.

And I knew, with sinking certainty, that whoever was at that gate wasn't bringing good news.