ATLAS
The low crackle of the fire filled the sitting room, casting flickering gold light across the hardwood floors and the worn leather of the armchair where Rose collapsed with an exaggerated huff. Her petite frame was practically swallowed by the oversized chair, her legs tucked underneath her, blond hair twisted into a chaotic bun that looked like it had lost the battle hours ago. The scent of pine and old books clung faintly to the air, a grounding comfort against the tension that had been steadily winding tighter in my chest all week.
"You need to seriously pull that stick out your ass or use it to get yourself off, because you're driving the rest of us crazy," she muttered, voice dry with the kind of blunt honesty only Rose could get away with.
I smirked, letting the corner of my mouth lift as I leaned back in my seat. The rich bite of bourbon slid warm across my tongue as I took a slow sip, my fingers curling loosely around the glass. Across from me, her honey-brown gaze caught mine with easy defiance, a spark of familiar camaraderie threading between us.
"I know you hate having your sleep disrupted," I said, voice low and rough with the remnants of exhaustion, "but you're the pack's Beta. With the rogues acting up and Alpha Ciaran staying suspiciously quiet, we need to keep our guard up. Carter can't run the southern red zone with me tonight. His mate's in labor."
The firelight danced over her freckled features as she wrinkled her nose and pouted, her whole face scrunching in mock indignation.
"I suppose Illia would murder him if he skipped out on the birth of his pups to go wander around the woods with his Alpha."
A low chuckle rumbled from my chest. I shook my head, the ice clinking gently in my glass as I set it down on the side table with a soft thud.
"The whole territory is sixty-five thousand acres, Rose. Hardly a garden."
She groaned dramatically, the sound punctuated by the muffled creak of the leather beneath her. "And I reiterate, you're driving me insane. We need more patrol members. I haven't had a proper break in weeks."
A pang of guilt jabbed sharply beneath my ribs. She wasn't wrong. Even with two hundred strong, the pack was stretched too thin. The constant threat of rogue attacks gnawed at all of us, wearing us down night after night.
"I'll recruit more at the next Goddess Pyre Festival," I promised, leaning forward, my elbows resting on my knees. The heat from the fire licked across my skin, comforting but not enough to melt the growing weight in my gut. "Once that's done, take a full month off. No arguments."
She arched a brow, her full lips curling into a sly, almost conspiratorial grin. The light caught the honeyed flecks in her irises, making them gleam with mischief.
"Bribery gets you everywhere, Alpha Atlas Rowen," she said, her voice lilting with amusement. She pushed herself up from the chair, stretching until her joints popped audibly. "Let's get this over with."
The fire snapped behind her as she moved, the wind rattling faintly against the window panes like distant fingers drumming against glass. I rolled my shoulders and put my glass down.
It was going to be a long night.
Thirty minutes later, Rose and I moved through the southern red zone, our steady footfalls crunching lightly over the leaf-strewn forest floor. The wind was sharp tonight, slipping between the tall pines and dragging cold ghostly fingers through my hair, whispering through the underbrush like something half-feral and watchful. Above us, the moon poured its light in a pale silver wash. It was the kind of night that should have been beautiful, should have brought some stillness, some sense of peace.
It should've made me pause, breathe, admire the way the night folded in around us like a thick wool cloak.
But my mind refused to be still.
Thoughts pressed in from every side—rogue movements, shifting alliances, Ciaran's silence that felt more like a blade being drawn than a retreat. My jaw clenched as I tried, and failed, to focus on the serenity around me.
Fuck smelling the roses.
This wasn't that kind of night.
The territory we moved through was carved into four quadrants—north, west, south, and east—each one split further into green and red zones. Green meant safe. Natural barriers like cliffs, ravines, or dense forestry made those sections easier to defend, requiring fewer patrols. Red meant open. Exposed. Dangerous. Vulnerability that could get my pack hurt.
We were in red now. South Red.
This stretch section pressed tightly against the Forest Pack territory. No walls. No fences. Just a narrow river winding like a scar through the trees, its dark waters glinting faintly beneath the moonlight. It was quiet, almost deceptively so. The river's gurgle was barely a whisper beneath the steady thud of our boots on cold, hardened earth. One misstep, one poor call, and we'd be igniting a powder keg.
Even with the cold burning in my lungs, I tried to welcome the run. The steady rhythm of it, the brittle snap of twigs underfoot, the sharp sting of night air scraping down my throat—it grounded me, helped drown out the noise in my head. Movement gave me something to hold onto, something real, because the pressure was building. Slowly. Quietly. And both me and my wolf were getting tired—restless in a way that I couldn't help but wonder when it would finally snap my sanity.
Rogue activity was climbing, not just in number but in coordination. They were testing us. Slipping through cracks like mist in the forest trees, seeing how far they could push before we snapped. And Alpha Ciaran's silence? It wasn't peace. That would be foolish to believe.
It was a provocation.
The kind that waited with teeth bared behind a smile.
Which he wore a little too well.
Artemis Pack might hold the largest claim in the region, but Forest Pack wasn't far behind. Their Alpha, Magnus Hades, had kept his distance so far. No tension, no blood. Yet. But peace in our world was just another word for delay. Everyone knew it never lasted. Not really. And lately, it felt like the wind itself was holding its breath.
Especially with Ciaran stirring up trouble. What was he up to that he hadn't made a move in months?
Especially with Ciaran stirring up trouble. The bastard had been quiet for months now—too quiet. And that silence was starting to itch beneath my skin. What the hell was he planning that required this much restraint?
A soft throat-clear broke through the knot of thoughts coiling in my head.
"You know…" Rose said, her tone laced with that familiar brand of mischief, and it was usually the kind that meant trouble, or at the very least, the kind of trouble that landed squarely in my lap. "I heard something interesting."
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, my lips twitching despite the weight pressing down on my shoulders. Her breath curled in the air, soft and white against the cold. She jogged beside me easily, her steps light, the sharp glint in her eyes a stark contrast to the faded winter woods around us. The forest was a blur of grey bark, brittle undergrowth, and skeletal branches stretching toward a bruised sky.
My pause to respond, however brief, was dangerous. It gave my thoughts room to spiral, gave me too much space to fall back into the same loop I kept trying to outrun. And all roads in my mind seemed to end at the same name.
Ciaran.
"Earth to Alpha," Rose snapped, suddenly stopping short and throwing an arm out across my chest.
I skidded to a halt, boots scraping dirt. "Shit. Sorry. What were you saying?"
She gave me a look, one brow arched, mouth caught somewhere between amusement and a scolding. "I said, I heard something interesting about the Forest Pack's Beta. Nyxan Volkova."
Why did that name tug at my chest?
Nyxan Volkova.
I pressed my lips together, trying to ignore the strange shift inside me. "Oh?"
Rose grinned, clearly satisfied with the reaction I hadn't meant to give. "Apparently, there's more gossip about him than there was about me when you made me your Beta."
My brow lifted. That was saying something. Rose had stirred the pot just by stepping into her role. But she'd proven herself ten times over—sharp, loyal, and lethal when she needed to be. Most Alphas couldn't see past the fact that she didn't have something swinging between her legs.
I hadn't cared. I saw potential. I saw a weapon honed and ready. Couldn't care less if she was male or not.
If Nyxan Volkova had managed to draw more whispers than Rose, he hadn't just ruffled feathers. He'd torn wings off and knocked egos clean off their thrones.
"Years ago," Rose began, falling back into rhythm as we jogged on, the forest swallowing us in a hush of shadow and frost, "everyone thought he was a woman. Beautiful, apparently. Graceful. Soft-spoken. Rejected every Alpha in the region who tried to claim him."
She shot me a sidelong glance, her lips twitching. "Lucky for you, you didn't make the list. You weren't Alpha yet."
I snorted, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch as the scent of damp moss thickened in the air. Cold bit at my skin, but I barely felt it. My attention clung to every word, my mind latching on to the image she was painting, this mysterious, fire-tempered Beta of the Forest Pack.
"Well," she went on, her voice dropping just a notch like she was passing on a sacred secret, "turns out he wasn't a woman at all. And when one of those cocky bastards got handsy at a festival, he waited until the next Goddess Pyre, stripped bare right in front of the shifting circle, flipped them all off, and shouted—and I quote—'As you can see, I lack the requirements to bear your pups. So please, continue to go fuck yourselves and leave me alone.'"
The laugh that tore out of me was sharp and unfiltered. It cracked the near-silent night wide open. I felt it bloom in my chest, stretching into the hollows worn out by days of tension.
That kind of defiance? That was rare. And damn impressive.
Too many Alphas strutted around like kings of borrowed castles, thinking strength meant ownership. But Nyxan Volkova?
He sounded like someone who'd rather burn the whole place to the ground than let someone put a leash around his throat.
"Think I should throw my hat in the ring?" I teased, shooting her a crooked grin as we moved through the skeletal hush of the woods.
She snorted, then bumped her shoulder into mine hard enough to jostle me off rhythm. "Please. He'd rip you apart, stitch you back together, then do it again. Better invest in duct tape."
The laugh that started to rise in my chest never made it out.
Every sense in me suddenly screamed.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, adrenaline slamming into my bloodstream like a shot of lightning. The air shifted—wrong, sharp, tainted. My wolf surged under my skin, wild and alert.
"Move," I growled under my breath.