Into the Alpha’s Keep Chapter 11: 10

Fenrir remained silent as I circled the table, deliberately putting distance between us. His presence loomed like a storm cloud, heavy and unavoidable, though he made no move to close the gap. I placed the packet with the herbal pills in the corner, intending to grab it when I returned from my walk. His gaze seared into me, unwavering and precise, as if he were dissecting every step I took, every breath I drew. It wasn’t just intense—it was calculated, like a predator sizing up its prey, and it made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

The moment Alexandra and I stepped out onto the weathered wooden porch, its boards creaking underfoot, a figure darted in front of me, cutting off my path. I jerked back instinctively, my face twisting into a grimace of disapproval, the sharp tang of irritation rising in my throat. The air carried a faint whiff of pine and something sweeter—her scent, I realized—as she planted herself squarely in my way.

She was striking: tall and lean, with a wiry strength evident in her posture. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in a wild cascade of dark curls, each strand catching the sunlight in a chaotic dance, framing an undeniably beautiful face. Her lips were plump and naturally rosy, her brows sharply arched and well-defined, accentuating an intense, slightly aquiline nose adorned with a delicate scattering of freckles across her pale skin. She wore a fitted black tank top that hugged her round, average-sized breasts, paired with faded blue jeans that clung to her long legs, and scuffed sneakers.

"Marilyn," Alexandra drawled, her voice dripping with boredom.

Marilyn’s eyes locked onto me, raking over me from head to toe with a slow, deliberate scrutiny that felt like a physical touch. Her full lips curled into a sneer, and a gleam of disgust and scorn flickered in her deep brown eyes, sharp and cutting as polished obsidian. She tilted her head slightly, as if I were some curiosity she’d stumbled upon—something unworthy of her time.

"So, this is the mated wolf..." she said, her voice laced with mockery before a harsh, grating laugh spilled from her throat, echoing faintly off the trees surrounding the porch.

"Looks like the news travels fast around here," Alexandra quipped, her tone dry and teasing, though there was a faint edge of amusement beneath it, as if she enjoyed watching the tension unfold.

A sudden warmth flared in my chest, a tingling heat that spread like wildfire through my veins. I didn’t need to turn to know Fenrir had followed us outside. His presence brushed against me, a ripple of energy that set my senses alight, before he stepped past me—careful, I noticed, to avoid even the slightest graze of contact. He positioned himself in front of Marilyn, towering over her despite her own height, and lowered his head to meet her gaze with an intensity that crackled in the air.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, steady but edged with something I couldn’t quite place—annoyance, perhaps, or a challenge.

Marilyn didn’t flinch. "I came to see if what they were saying was true," she replied coolly, then shifted to the side, her eyes snapping back to me with renewed disdain. "I thought you’d have a more... refined taste in females." Her lips puckered as if she’d bitten into something sour. "Didn’t know you were interested in mutts wandering around in the forest." The word "mutts" landed like a slap, sharp and deliberate, meant to sting.

Fenrir laughed—a deep, rolling sound that caught me off guard. The bastard actually laughed, as if her barb was some clever jest instead of an insult aimed at the core of me.

"I’m a charitable soul," he said, his tone light and mocking as he turned to face me. In a fluid motion, he stepped closer to Marilyn and draped a casual arm over her shoulders, his broad frame aligning with hers in a way that felt like a deliberate taunt. The sight of them together—his easy familiarity with her—ignited something primal in me.

Every cell in my body roared to life, a surge of heat and fury that made my skin itch and my fur bristle beneath the surface. My wolf clawed at the edges of my control, desperate to break free, to lunge and claim what was mine. My nails ached as they began to elongate, sharpening into points that pressed painfully against my fingertips, a physical echo of the rage simmering inside me.

I forced myself to breathe—one deep, shuddering inhale, then two, then three—each breath a battle to leash the beast within. We were newly mated, I reminded myself, and this raw, territorial instinct would linger for a while, a side effect of the bond still settling into my bones. I didn’t care about him, I told myself fiercely, nor that smug, sneering wolf standing there like she’d won something. For all I cared, they could both burst into flames and vanish into ash.

"Please, Fenrir!" Alexandra snapped, her voice cutting through the haze of my anger. She shook her head, exasperation etched into her features, as if she were scolding a child who’d pushed a game too far.

Marilyn, undeterred, took a bold step forward, closing the distance between us. Her lips curved into a slow, predatory smile, and her eyes glinted with a challenge.

"You're a poor thing." She laughed. "How nice that you found our charitable alpha."

I teetered on the edge of losing control, the primal urge to lunge at that insufferable bitch surging through me like a tidal wave. My muscles tensed, trembling with the effort to hold back, my wolf snarling beneath my skin, claws itching to rip and tear. But I wouldn’t let myself snap—not here, not now. I had to keep my composure, had to walk away with my hands unstained if I wanted any chance of earning their trust. The first opening I got, I’d bolt from this suffocating scene and leave the chaos behind me.

"Such a huge pleasure to meet you," I said, plastering a wide, saccharine smile across my face, my voice dripping with sarcasm so thick it nearly choked me. I turned to Alexandra, tilting my head with mock curiosity. "Is everyone in the pack this polite?"

The wolf let out a low, appreciative chuckle, clearly relishing the bite in my retort. From the corner of my eye, I caught Marilyn’s growl—a guttural, feral sound that rumbled from her chest—and a jolt of savage satisfaction shot through me, warming my core. She hated that I’d gotten under her skin, and I reveled in it.

"Only a few are as... hmm... polite as Marilyn," Alexandra replied, her tone dry and edged with just enough humor to win her a few points in my book. Her lips twitched, betraying the faintest hint of a smirk, and I found myself appreciating her restraint amid the tension.

"Wow..." I drawled, letting the word hang in the air like a playful jab, though my pulse hammered in my ears, betraying the storm brewing inside me.

Fenrir, ever the instigator, tugged Marilyn closer to his side, his movements deliberate and infuriatingly casual. He dipped his head and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the side of her head, his lips brushing her dark curls—yet his eyes never left mine. That piercing gaze locked onto me, daring me to react, to break. I shoved my hands behind my back, clenching them into tight fists, my nails—still sharp from the near-shift—digging into my palms. The sting was immediate, a hot, piercing pain as my skin split under the pressure, tiny rivulets of blood welling up, but I refused to flinch. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

"Come on, Marilyn," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety taunt as he began to steer her away. "I have some things to take care of, and I want some good company." The words slithered through the air, each one a barb aimed straight at me, and he dragged her along with that same infuriating ease, his arm still slung possessively over her shoulders.

Marilyn cast me a final, triumphant glance over her shoulder, her lips curling into a smug little sneer. Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, she rose onto the tips of her toes, her body pressing briefly against his, and brushed her lips against his in a fleeting, provocative kiss. With that, they turned on their heels and sauntered down the winding stone path, their figures shrinking until they vanished around a bend, swallowed by the shadows of the towering pines.

I didn’t realize I’d been staring after them, my eyes fixed on the empty spot where they’d disappeared, the world around me fading into a dull hum. The sharp, coppery scent of my own blood hit me belatedly, mingling with the ache in my palms where my nails had carved crescent-shaped wounds into my flesh. I hadn’t even noticed the burning, the way it radiated up my arms, until a gentle pressure broke through the haze—Alexandra’s hand resting lightly on my shoulder, grounding me.

"It’s because of the recent mating," she whispered, her voice soft but firm as she gave me a subtle push, urging me to move, to walk off the tension coiled tight in my limbs. "You’ll feel like this for a few days—maybe a week—until your body adjusts to his mark. It’s normal, even if it doesn’t feel like it."

I let out a shaky breath, my boots scuffing against the dirt as I fell into step beside her. "It’s strange," I confessed, my voice quieter now, raw with the weight of my own confusion. "I hate him so much—every fiber of me wants to claw his eyes out—but then I see him with her, and it’s like I’m dying of jealousy. These feelings... they’re so contradictory, they’re tearing me apart, and I don’t know what to do with them."

Alexandra nodded, her expression softening with a flicker of sympathy that felt genuine, not pitying. She kept her pace steady beside me, her dark eyes glinting with understanding as if she’d seen this struggle play out a dozen times before—maybe even lived it herself once.

"Fenrir is like this because of his fiancée."

"Fiancée?" My voice squeaked out, high-pitched and brittle, betraying the shock that jolted through me like a lightning strike. The word hung in the air, sharp and heavy, and I felt my throat tighten as Alexandra’s gaze softened with something uncomfortably close to pity.

She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as the wind rustled through the trees around us, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine. "He became like this after Catalina’s death," she said, her tone measured but tinged with a quiet sorrow. "She was the female he loved—truly loved. So don’t take any of his stupid actions to heart, no matter how foolish or cruel they seem. It’s not really about you."

I stared at her, my chest constricting as her words sank in. God, it wasn’t enough that I had to endure Fenrir’s jagged edges, his barbed words and careless taunts cutting into me like shards of glass. Now I had to contend with the ghost of a dead female—a rival I couldn’t even fight, because she wasn’t here to face me?

The unfairness of it burned in my gut, a bitter, twisting ache.

No, this was not the life I’d painstakingly pieced together in my dreams, not the future I’d dared to imagine for myself.

"How did she die?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, curiosity tugging at me despite the part of me that didn’t want to care. My voice was softer now, laced with a reluctant intrigue I couldn’t quite bury.

Alexandra shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line as she glanced away, her eyes tracing the horizon where the treetops met the graying sky. "Sorry," she said, firm but not unkind, "that’s not my story to tell. Maybe Fenrir will open up about it someday, when he’s ready—if he ever is."

I nodded, more to myself than to her, and let out an exasperated sigh that fogged faintly in the cool air. My shoulders slumped as the reality of my situation pressed down harder, a suffocating blanket I couldn’t shake off. This wasn’t just bad—it was a disaster, a tangled mess far worse than I’d feared.

With Hunter, I had imagined having pups, a perfect house, and a dream wedding, where I would be his only love and he would be mine. A fairy-tale marriage, like the ones in the romance novels I used to read.

And yet, here I was, tethered to Fenrir. Last night, I’d had the deepest, most restful sleep I’d experienced in months, my body sinking into a rare peace I hadn’t known I’d craved. The village’s quiet hum, the distant howls of the pack, and even Fenrir’s brooding presence had wrapped around me like a shield, warding off the nightmares that usually clawed at my dreams. But that fleeting sense of safety wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. It wasn’t what I wanted, not when it came with this cost.

Being despised and humiliated just for existing, just for being who I was—it gnawed at me, a relentless ache that settled deep in my bones. I couldn’t stay here, couldn’t let this place—this bond—swallow me whole. I had to run, had to find a way out, to escape this suffocating web and track down my sister as soon as I could.