The morning sun poured softly through the window, casting golden stripes across the wooden floor.
Devon sat upright now, still pale but stronger than before. The healer had changed his bandages and forced him to eat something warm, broth, and bread that didn't taste like much, but it was the first real meal he'd had in days. The silence of the Ravenmoon infirmary felt both comforting and suffocating.
He wasn't used to comfort.
Every wall, every clean sheet, every careful hand that tended to him reminded him of what he didn't deserve. He was a rogue, a nameless wolf with no pack, no home, and no future.
He had already made up his mind. As soon as his strength returned, he would leave. He didn't know where he would go, maybe deeper into the wild, or far enough that no scent of pack would ever reach him again. Anywhere was better than staying under an Alpha's roof. He couldn't bear to owe anyone anything.
The door creaked softly, interrupting his thoughts. The healer stepped inside, smiling faintly. "You're awake early today. That's a good sign."
Devon gave a weak nod, his voice still low. "I'm… feeling better."
Before she could reply, a small blur slipped past her legs and ran straight into the room.
"Wait... Young Master!" the healer gasped.
Devon blinked as a small boy stopped in front of his bed, panting slightly, his golden hair messy from running. Wide blue eyes stared up at him, the same eyes he'd seen filled with tears and fear in that forest.
It was the Alpha's son.
The little boy tilted his head.
"You're awake," he said softly, as if confirming to himself that Devon was real.
Devon opened his mouth but found himself speechless. The boy's scent was faintly sweet, tinged with the power of pure Alpha blood.
"You…" he began, voice rough. "You should rest. You were..."
Before he could finish, the child climbed onto the bed and wrapped his small arms tightly around Devon's waist.
Devon froze.
The hug was warm, shockingly warm, pressing against the cold void inside him.
"Don't go," the boy murmured, muffled against his chest. "You saved me. You can't leave."
The healer rushed forward, flustered. "Young Master, you shouldn't..."
But the boy didn't move. His little fingers clutched Devon's shirt tightly, as if afraid he would vanish if he let go.
Devon's throat tightened. He didn't understand it, this sudden, fierce attachment. He was a stranger. A rogue. Yet this child, the heir of the most powerful pack in the north, clung to him as though his life depended on it.
"I'm… not staying," Devon said gently, his hand hovering awkwardly before resting on the boy's shoulder. "I don't belong here. You should be with your father."
The boy shook his head hard.
"I want you." His voice trembled, small but stubborn. "When I wake up, I want to see you. I had nightmares, but when I saw you, they stopped."
Devon felt his chest ache. He had no words for the feeling that rose inside him, part guilt, part something dangerously tender.
The healer sighed softly, realizing she wouldn't win this argument.
"I'll inform the Alpha," she murmured before quietly stepping out, leaving them alone.
Devon stared at the boy for a long moment. His golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, his small frame pressing close as if seeking safety. Slowly, almost uncertainly, Devon raised a hand and brushed the child's head.
The boy's breathing steadied instantly, the tension in his tiny shoulders melting away.
Devon sighed quietly, a faint, pained smile touching his lips.
"You're making this hard for me, little one," he whispered.
But deep inside, he already knew. Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't, not yet. Something bound him here now, a fragile, innocent heartbeat that refused to let him go.
The soft knock on the door broke the quiet moment.
Devon glanced up, still unsure what to do with the small boy clinging to him. The child had fallen asleep against his chest, his tiny fingers curled around Devon's shirt like roots refusing to let go.
The door opened.
The air shifted instantly, heavier, colder. The scent of dominance filled the room before a single word was spoken.
Lucien Hale, Alpha of the Ravenmoon Pack, stood in the doorway. His expression was unreadable, eyes briefly flicking from his sleeping son to the man holding him. His jaw tightened, but his voice, when it came, was low and composed.
"So," he said, stepping inside, "my son has found his savior."
Devon immediately tried to rise, but the small weight against him and the pain shooting through his ribs stopped him.
"Alpha," he murmured, lowering his head instead in respect.
Lucien's boots echoed softly against the polished floor as he approached. He stopped beside the bed, his gaze lingering on the boy's peaceful face before moving to Devon again.
"He refuses to sleep without you nearby," the Alpha said quietly. "Even the healers can't calm him."
Devon's throat tightened. He didn't know how to respond, so he stayed silent, his hand still hovering over the child's small back.
Lucien's eyes flickered, an emotion briefly crossing his face, something between curiosity and calculation.
"You've made quite an impression on him," he said at last. "It's… rare."
The silence stretched. Devon could feel the weight of that gaze, the unspoken question behind it.
Who are you, really?
When the boy was finally carried away to rest in another room, the Alpha's Beta appeared and led Devon, slowly and carefully, into the Alpha's office.
The room was large, dimly lit by the afternoon light seeping through tall windows. Maps, old scrolls, and books lined the shelves behind a grand desk carved from black oak. The air smelled faintly of ink, smoke, and pine.
Lucien stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the horizon as Devon entered.
"Sit," the Alpha said simply.
Devon hesitated, then lowered himself carefully into the chair across from the desk. The ache in his ribs flared, but he ignored it.
Lucien turned slowly, his blue eyes settling on him with dangerous authority.
"You said earlier you don't belong here," he began, his tone calm but probing. "Tell me, why do you want to leave?"