The Alpha Mate

Chapter 64

[POV: Draven]

The second letter wasn't sealed properly with the Midnight Crest Alpha's mark. That was the first thing I noticed.

The second was the signature. Not Julius, not Minerva. Dominic Nightshade, Future Alpha of the Midnight Crest pack.

I stared at the sharp handwriting, each line soaked in honey and venom, calculated and deliberate. It had arrived in a diplomatic courier pouch marked as urgent. I'd been expecting a response to the inquiry I sent nearly a week ago—about rumors of their possible connection with a rogue band causing disturbances along our shared borders.

This was not that response. No. This was something far worse. And it was personal. Deeply, painfully personal.

I read the letter once. Then twice. By the third time, I had almost crushed the parchment in my fist, the seal snapping beneath the pressure of my grip. Sirius's growl echoed in my mind, deep and unsettled, matching the rage building in my chest.

The tone of the letter dripped with false concern—Dominic's written performance of grief and brotherly love was so transparent it made my teeth grind.

He claimed to worry for Atlas's wellbeing. Claimed the boy had gone "missing," that the family had "searched tirelessly," only to now "discover" him within my pack.

He hadn't asked for his return. No, Dominic had been clever. He'd only suggested that I "remain cautious," because "Atlas has always had a… fragile nature. Prone to confusion. To delusion."

He called him delusional. Unstable. Dangerous by implication. And somehow, I was expected to read this and smile? To accept these warnings at face value? I stood abruptly, tossing the letter onto my desk like it burned my fingers.

"Bring Junior Warrior Atlas," I ordered the nearest guard. "Now."

The man hesitated. "Alpha—should I ask if he's—"

"Wherever he is. Whatever he's doing. I want him in my office immediately."

He bowed stiffly and vanished without another word. Sirius stirred again, pacing in the back of my mind.

"Don't scare him again," he growled, protective and warning. "Don't lash out. Let him explain."

"I'm not promising anything," I muttered under my breath, though I knew my wolf was right. I tried to sit. Couldn't. The chair felt like a cage, confining and suffocating.

Instead, I stood by the window, fists clenched behind my back as the fury churned hotter and higher inside me, threatening to spill over into something I'd regret.

When he finally arrived, he looked startled—flushed from whatever task he'd been pulled from, breath slightly shallow, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes wide with confusion.

But the moment he saw my face—saw what I held in my hand, saw the storm brewing in my expression—everything in him stilled.

He knew. And the color drained from his face like blood from a wound, leaving him pale and shaken.

I walked forward slowly, deliberately, and placed the letter in his hands without a word. "Explain," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

He stared down at the parchment, at the mark of Midnight Crest pack, fingers trembling as they held the paper. "Draven—"

"Read it." His lips moved over the words, silently mouthing each line. His eyes flickered with growing horror. And then, slowly, his shoulders curled in on themselves as the full weight of what his brother had written overtook his features.

"It's not what you think," he whispered, voice barely audible.

"Then what is it?" I demanded, my voice sharp, cutting through the tension. "Tell me."

He opened his mouth, searching for words that didn't come fast enough, that seemed to lodge in his throat. Through clenched teeth, I asked, "What do you think I'll assume, Atlas?"

He stepped back slightly, his gaze darting between the letter and my face, fear and desperation warring in those blue eyes. "I… I think he's trying to twist things. He always has. He's trying to make me seem dangerous so you won't trust me. So you'll send me away or worse."

I laughed—short and bitter, the sound harsh in the quiet office. "Well, he's doing a damn good job."

His brows pinched together, hurt flashing across his face. "You don't actually believe him, do you?" I lost it. The careful control I'd been maintaining snapped like a frayed rope.

"You think this is about belief?" I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls. "This is about the truth—something I've almost begged you for since the moment you arrived in this pack! But every time, every damn time I offered you the chance to come clean, you chose to keep your secrets!"

"Because I was scared!" he cried, his voice breaking.

"Of me?" I stepped closer, crowding into his space. "Of the wolves who protected you? Fed you? Gave you a rank? Gave you a chance when you had nothing?"

"I didn't know then if I could trust you!"

"And I'm the one who's supposed to trust you?" I roared, fury and hurt mixing into something toxic. "When you still can't tell me the whole story? When I keep finding pieces of your past scattered like landmines across my territory?"

He backed into the wall, hands gripping the letter like it might shield him from the storm of my rage. "Draven, please—"

"Are you a spy?" I growled, the accusation tearing from my throat. "Did they send you here to gain our trust, earn a title, learn our defenses—what?"

"No!" he shouted, eyes wide with panic and disbelief.

"Then what?" I demanded, slamming my hand on the wall beside his head, the impact reverberating through the room. He flinched, and Sirius snarled so loud inside me I almost staggered.

"You've gone too far!" he snapped in my mind. "Stop it. Now! You're terrifying him!" But I couldn't. Not yet. Not until I knew the truth, until every secret was laid bare.

"You show up here with half a story, a mysterious past, a wolf that shouldn't have been silent as long as it was, powers you don't understand—and now your brother writes to warn me?"

"I didn't know he'd do this," Atlas said through clenched teeth, tears starting to form in his eyes, making them shine. "I didn't ask him to. I haven't spoken to him since I left. I didn't even know he knew where I was!"

"Then explain how he found out!"

"I don't know!"

"Liar!"

"Then why do you keep me here?" he screamed, his voice raw and broken. "If you think I'm a traitor, if you think I'm a threat to this pack—why haven't you thrown me out already?"

"Because I feel something for you!" I shouted back before I could stop myself, the words escaping before I could trap them. "And I don't understand why!"

Silence crashed down between us like a physical weight. He stared at me like I'd struck him, shock and something else—hope?—flickering across his face. And then, quietly—broken—he asked, "Then why do you believe him over me?"

My jaw locked. I turned away for a breath. Just one. Because his voice cut me deeper than any blade, sliced through my anger to the confusion and fear beneath. And I didn't have an answer that wouldn't hurt us both.

When I finally spoke, my voice was a low growl, rough with emotion. "How am I supposed to trust someone," I said, each word deliberate, "who never trusted me first?"