Into the Alpha’s Keep Chapter 64: 64

"What is all this?" I asked, holding a small wooden sculpture shaped like a wolf. The craftsmanship was intricate, with delicate lines etched into the wood to represent fur.

Fenrir's house table was piled with several of them, while Mihaela, Alexandra, and Nicoleta were having fun trying to carve them. Some turned out better than others, depending on each female's talent.

The air was filled with the earthy scent of fresh wood shavings, and the rhythmic sound of knives scraping against wood created a strangely comforting backdrop to the scene.

"Didn't you celebrate Samhain in your old pack?" Alexandra asked, running the tip of the knife along the wood, carving what would be the wolf's head.

Her fingers moved with practiced precision, though occasional frustration flickered across her face when the wood didn't yield as expected.

I raised my eyebrows, turning the small sculpture over in my palm. Its weight was surprising, solid and grounding.

"How do you mean?"

Mihaela laughed, the sound bright and unexpected in the serious atmosphere that often permeated the house.

"It's the start of winter. It's kind of like New Year's for us. We light bonfires, create wolf statues" — she lifted the one in her hand, emphasizing it with a flourish that sent wood shavings scattering across the table — "we drink and roast meats. Everyone is responsible for something. And since carving is the hardest part, it always falls on us."

I noticed how her eyes lit up as she described the celebration, how her usual guarded demeanor fell away. These traditions meant something to her—to all of them—beyond mere ritual. They were connections to a past that stretched back beyond memory, to a community that had survived against all odds.

"Yes," Alexandra agreed, blowing sawdust from the groove she'd just carved. "And now we have you, so sit your butt down and come help us."

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, considering the knife she pushed toward me. The idea of joining their circle was tempting—to be part of something rather than apart from it—but the thought of ruining one of the sculptures through my clumsiness held me back.

"Sorry, but carving wooden statues isn't on my list of talents, but I can cook something, any dish you want, as long as Marilyn doesn't show up." Cooking had always been my sanctuary, the one place where I felt completely in control.

Nicoleta laughed, a rare sound from the most reserved of the three. She remained focused on the figurine she was making, her movements slow and deliberate.

Her statue was the most detailed of all, with individually defined paws and an expressive face that seemed almost alive.

"Marilyn in a kitchen is like letting a fox into a henhouse," she muttered, mostly to herself.

Alexandra huffed, setting down her knife to reach for her cup of tea, now grown cold. "With the way Fenrir has been avoiding the she-wolf, I wouldn't be surprised if she invaded the house."

"I don't think she would do that. Marilyn might be a bitch, but she's not stupid. She knows Fenrir would rip her head off if she disobeyed an order," Mihaela commented.

"She already disobeyed, the day of Ruda's wake," I said, each word sounding more gritted than the last. The wooden wolf in my hand suddenly felt heavy, and I clenched my fingers around it until the edges dug painfully into my palm. "He had already forbidden her from coming, and still, she came. Fenrir isn't as cruel when it comes to his mistress."

Talking about the affair they had made my stomach churn. It was such a deep, bubbling anger that I even lost control over my actions and words. The bitterness coated my tongue like bile, surprising me with its intensity.

I hadn't realized until this moment how much the thought of Fenrir with another woman affected me. The realization was as unwelcome as it was undeniable.

Alexandra looked at me through her dark lashes, her knife pausing mid-stroke. Something knowing flickered in her expression—a silent assessment that made me feel exposed.

"That's in the past," she said casually, though her eyes never left my face.

I set down the wooden figure, afraid I might snap it in half with the force of my grip. "What do you mean, in the past?"

"Well..." Alexandra's voice lowered, though no one else was in the house to overhear us. "I heard that Marilyn is kind of... freaking out," she revealed, drawing out the words slowly, savoring them like someone might savor a particularly rich dessert.

Mihaela shook her head, her earrings catching the light as they swung with the movement. "I heard something like that too," she confirmed, pushing aside her carving to lean in closer. "She's been showing up at council meetings uninvited, asking questions about you." Her eyes widened meaningfully. "About your relationship with Fenrir."

I pulled out a chair and sat down, trying to control the anxiety spreading through me.

My fingers traced patterns in the wood dust that dusted the tabletop, avoiding the searching gazes of both women.

Nicoleta never entered the subject, always staying silent. She was afraid to talk about Fenrir's private life. The alpha trusted her so much that she was one of the few who had full access to the house, including his bedroom. And that was the highest honor a wolf could receive: the leader's trust, which made her even more cautious and grateful.

Now, she bent further over her carving, her long hair falling forward to curtain her face, as if to physically distance herself from the gossip.

"Spill it already," I huffed, unable to bear the suspense any longer. A mocking smile appeared on Alexandra's full lips.

"It seems Fenrir has been avoiding the dear one for a few days. And that’s never happened before."

"Never," Mihaela agreed.

"At least not since Catalina died and they got closer," Alexandra continued.

I bit my lips and stared at them.

"He told me about Catalina."

They looked at each other, looking stunned. One’s expression mirrored the other’s.

"And what did he say?" This time, it was Nicoleta who asked.

I shrugged, as if it didn’t mean anything.

"That she was killed by a Lazar wolf and that, after what happened, everyone was forbidden from wandering through the territories." — They blinked, dumbfounded. — "He was kind of... drunk when he revealed all that and I kind of asked some questions, but I was afraid to dive too deep into the topic and have him freak out."

Alexandra snapped her fingers in front of my face.

"My dear, just him talking about Catalina with you means a lot. He doesn’t mention her name to anyone. And when I say anyone, I mean absolutely no one."

"And why not?" I straightened up. "I mean, death is hard, especially when you’re close to the deceased, but... not saying the name?"

"Ever heard of guilt?" Mihaela intoned.

A crease formed on my forehead.

"I’m not sure I get it."

"Well, she wasn’t that nice..." she commented.

"Mihaela!" Alexandra snapped, shooting a sharp look at her companion.

"I won’t name names, let’s just talk about 'her'." — She made air quotes with her fingers. — "Anyway, she was arrogant, somewhat rude, and completely spoiled. The truth is, no one missed her after she died, but that’s a claim no wolf in this pack would ever admit, for fear of his reaction," she murmured, without mentioning any names specifically. "She was very much like Marilyn."

"That explains a lot." I rolled my eyes. "Now I get why he lets her do whatever she wants, since she’s so much like his beloved."

"But here’s the issue we’re raising," the beta continued. "He’s never been like that with anyone in the pack. He’s always treated everyone with respect, which is why everyone loves him. He threatens and instills fear when necessary, but he’s a great leader most of the time."

"They were destined, obviously he would accept anything from her," I refuted.

"We don’t know if he feels that way because he loved her above all or because of the guilt of failing as an alpha and a mate."

"But... he failed?"

"She died within his territory. A she-wolf who was part of his pack. It’s obvious he carries the burden of what that failure caused. He was devastated after what happened, in fact, he changed as a person."

"Deaths happen all the time," I retorted.

"Not a death so... bizarre. Everyone lived in pure harmony, wandering around, trying to find their perfect match. It was so unexpected that neither he nor anyone else was prepared for what happened."

"So, he really wasn’t to blame."

She sighed, raising her eyebrows.

"Maybe yes, maybe no. If he talked about her with you, maybe it means a little more. Just know he never spoke her name with anyone until now," she concluded, turning back to the almost-finished wooden sculpture.

I couldn’t decide what I thought about all that. As much as he had told me about Catalina, he’d only said a small part of the story. And, besides, I’d told him about Selena. I shared a secret, and he shared another with me. It wasn’t a big deal, it didn’t mean anything other than what it should.

"It must have been because we almost died," I said. "He’s over three hundred years old, it must have been terrifying for him to realize his life was about to fall apart."

"Lord Fenrir is not afraid of death," Nicoleta protested. "He loves life for his sense of duty to us, his pack."

I narrowed my eyes at her.

"And how do you know that?"