Chapter 9: The Alpha’s Oath

(Alpha's POV - Alexander Black)

The night air is thick with the weight of my thoughts. I pace beneath the canopy of trees, restless, my wolf clawing at the edges of my control. I don't want this. I don't want her.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

My mind tells me to stay away, that my duty to the pack and to myself is greater than any pull this bond could create. But the more I fight it, the more I feel the bond tightening around my chest like a vice.

My wolf, though, he doesn't care about duty. He doesn't care about my reluctance. He's growling in the back of my mind, urging me forward, closer to her. He can sense her—the same way I do. He doesn't care that she's human, doesn't care about the danger it will bring.

She's his, and he wants her now.

I curse under my breath, my fist clenching at my side. The tension in my body is unbearable. Every step I take feels like a struggle, the instinct to run toward her growing stronger with every passing second.

But I can't.

I won't.

It's a lie I tell myself, but the longer I resist, the harder it becomes to ignore the reality of the situation. My wolf and I are at war, and neither of us is willing to back down. The pull toward her is undeniable. My body aches for it, my mind screaming in defiance of what's happening.

I can't claim her, not like this. She doesn't even know I exist in this way. She doesn't know what I am, what we are. She would run if she knew. And I can't risk that.

So I walk in circles, wrestling with myself as if I could somehow outrun the truth. My wolf growls again, impatient, and I know it's only a matter of time before I give in. Before I let the bond take me, pull me to her, and drag us both into a world that's far too dangerous for someone like her.

I find myself in front of the library, the place where she spends her time. It's quiet now, the evening air wrapping around me like a dark shroud. The window is slightly ajar, and I can see her through the glass.

Myra.

She's sitting at a table, her head bent over a book, completely unaware that I'm watching her. That I'm so close.

My heart thuds in my chest, a brutal reminder of everything I'm trying to avoid. She's not mine to claim. She doesn't belong in my world. But the more I try to convince myself of this, the more I feel the tug at the core of my being.

She shifts in her seat, and for a moment, I think she's going to look up, to see me. I hold my breath, pressing myself deeper into the shadows, but she doesn't.

I watch her for what feels like hours, every passing minute pulling me further into the storm of my own making. My wolf is growing restless, pacing inside me like a caged animal. The air feels heavier now, the weight of the bond dragging me down, urging me closer.

I need to leave. I need to walk away and pretend this isn't happening.

But then she stands. She moves, her figure graceful in the dim light, and the world tilts on its axis. I feel the tug—sharp, undeniable. It pulls at my chest like a rope, and before I can stop myself, my feet move forward, one step, then another.

I stop myself just before crossing the threshold into the light. What am I doing? I can't approach her like this, not with everything on the line.

I stand there, trembling with the force of my own conflict. The bond is suffocating, pulling at every fiber of my being. But I resist. I can't do this. Not yet.

Stay away. Keep your distance. She's not ready.

But even as the words echo in my head, they ring hollow. She's ready. She's been ready. And I—I'm not.

The realization slams into me, and I stand there, frozen. My wolf is howling for release, desperate for her touch, for her presence. But I can't let him have her—not when I'm not sure what she's meant to be in my life. Not when I'm not even sure I can protect her.

Not like this.

The door to the library creaks open, and I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat. She steps out into the cool night air, her eyes scanning the shadows. She's searching for something—someone.

I can't make myself move. I want to run to her, but every instinct in me tells me to pull back, to keep her safe from the world I come from.

But she's staring into the dark, her eyes wide, as if she knows she's not alone. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I fight to keep my breath steady.

She doesn't see me—not yet—but I can't stop myself. I step forward, moving closer, just enough that the moonlight hits my face. Her eyes dart to where I am, and for the briefest moment, I see her freeze. Her gaze meets mine, and I feel a jolt run through me, like electricity.

She felt it.

Her eyes widen, uncertainty flickering across her face, but she doesn't run. She doesn't scream. She just stands there, staring at me, and I can see the confusion in her eyes.

She knows something.

And it's in that moment that I know, without a doubt, I've made a mistake.

I've already stepped into her world, and there's no going back now.

But I can't stop myself.