Kairos P.O.V
I never believed in fate. Not really. Fate was for poets and fools who thought the world owed them a neat little bow on their misery. I built my life on control and on the sharp edge of a blade, the way my pack looked at me and knew better than to blink first. As alpha of the Blackridge pack, I'd clawed my way to the top over the corpses of challengers and the ashes of rival territories. No one touched what was mine. No one questioned me. And no one, not a single living soul, had ever made my blood run hot with anything except rage.
Until tonight.
The raid was supposed to be clean. The Ironfang pack had been pushing our borders for months,stealing territory, killing our scouts, and acting like they owned the damn forest. I'd waited long enough. Tonight, we ended it. My pack moved like shadows through the woods, silent except for the occasional snap of a twig under boot. I led from the front, as always. My senses were razor-sharp: the metallic tang of blood in the air from earlier fights and the damp earth under my feet.
We hit their main camp just after moonrise. Tents ripped open, fires stomped out, wolves shifting mid-scream as we descended. It was over in minutes. Most surrendered. The rest didn't get the chance. I stood in the center of the clearing, blood on my knuckles, watching the last of their fighters drop to their knees. Victory tasted so damn goodm
Then I smelled it.
It smelled like wildfire wrapped in honey, cutting through the stench of fear and defeat. My wolf stirred hard, claws scraping against the inside of my skull. My nostrils flared. I turned, slowly, deliberately, scanning the survivors huddled in the dirt.
There he was.
Kneeling but not bowed. Hands bound behind his back with rough rope, shirt torn open across the chest, exposing pale skin streaked with grime and a fresh bruise blooming purple along his ribs. Dark hair falling into his golden eyes that locked onto mine without a flicker of submission. An omega. An unclaimed one at that and he was looking at me like I was the one who should be on my knees.
My pack went quiet. They felt it too,the shift in the air, the way my pheromones spiked without warning. I took a step forward, then another. The scent grew stronger with every inch, wrapping around my throat like a noose made of silk. It wasn't fear, it was challenge.
"Who is this?" My voice came out low, rougher than I intended.
One of the Ironfang betas,some sniveling lieutenant who'd pissed himself when we breached the perimeter,stammered. "R-Rowan. He's… he's one of ours. Rogue, sort of. Doesn't follow orders well."
Rowan. The name hit me like a punch.
I stopped in front of him. Close enough that I could see the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, the way his chest rose and fell too steadily for someone surrounded by death. He didn't lower his gaze. Not even when I loomed over him, all six-foot-five of muscle and menace.
"You're the one who's been marking our borders," I said. L
His lips curled. "Someone had to remind you the world doesn't end at your fence line."
My enforcers sucked in breaths. No one talked to me like that. Ever.
I crouched slowly, bringing our faces level. His scent flooded me now, making my teeth ache with the urge to bite down and claim. My wolf howled inside, demanding. I ignored it.
"You've got a death wish, omega."
"Call me that again," he said, voice steady, almost bored, "and I'll spit in your face."
I laughed. The sound surprised even me. "Bold for someone tied up in the dirt."
"Bold for someone who thinks ropes make him safe." His eyes flicked down to my hands then back up. "You smell like violence. Must be exhausting, carrying that much rage around."
Something twisted in my chest, something hotter and dangerous. I reached out, slowly, and hooked a finger under his chin, forcing his head up higher. His skin was warm against my knuckles. He didn't flinch.
"You think you know me?" I murmured.
"I know alphas like you," he said softly. "All bark until someone bares their throat. Then you're just another beast in rut."
My grip tightened. Not enough to bruise, yet. "Careful."
"Or what?" His breath ghosted over my wrist. "You'll kill me? You already burned my pack. What's one more body?"
I stared into those golden eyes. There was no fear there. Only fire. And beneath it, there was something else. Something that made my pulse thunder in my ears.
I released him and turned to my second-in-command, Darius. "Take the survivors to the holding pens. Except him."
Darius raised a brow. "Boss?"
"Bring him to the compound. My quarters."
Murmurs rippled through the pack. I didn't care. I couldn't. That scent was in my lungs now, sinking into my blood. I needed answers. I needed… him contained. Away from the others. Where I could figure out why my wolf was losing its fucking mind over an enemy omega who looked at me like prey that had decided to bite back.
Rowan didn't struggle when they hauled him up. He just kept watching me, that half-smirk still in place, like he knew something I didn't.
As they dragged him away, I felt it—,he first crack in the iron wall I'd built around myself.
I watched until he disappeared into the trees, flanked by two of my best soldiers. Then I turned back to the smoking camp.
This wasn't over,not by a long shot.
My wolf settled but I know it's still hungry and for the first time in years, I wasn't entirely sure who the predator was anymore.