5. Sparks in the storm.

Chapter 5: Sparks in the Storm

Alpha Asher of the Moon Crest Pack sat on a small rock, sheltered by the thick canopy above him. The woods were quiet, except for the rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of crickets. Asher often came here when he needed his peace and solitude—a place where he could find peace amidst the endless responsibilities of being an Alpha.

He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of pine and damp earth that filled the air. The world felt far away here, removed from the chaos of pack disputes and the looming dangers outside his borders. His fingers brushed against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his mind clear for the moment.

But peace, like the calm before a storm, was always fleeting.

Dark clouds began to roll in, thick and heavy. The first drops of rain splattered onto the ground, followed by a sudden downpour. Asher stood up, his brow furrowing. Not a perfect time for a walk, but he'd never been one to let weather dictate his actions.

As he trekked deeper into the woods, the rain grew heavier, and the chill in the air was biting. He shrugged off the discomfort, moving forward with a sense of purpose. He had a feeling he wouldn't be alone for long. As an Alpha, his senses were always sharp, always alert for any sign of intruders. He wasn't just a leader—he was a protector, watching over the borders of his pack with an unwavering vigilance.

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Meanwhile, Annatoria's feet slammed against the wet forest floor, her breath ragged and frantic. She hadn't intended to come here, but the storm had driven her further into unfamiliar territory. The forest felt suffocating, and the weight of her past clung to her like a shadow. Her heart pounded with every step, each one heavier than the last. She had left the Ember Wolves behind, but the hurt—the betrayal—had stayed with her, gnawing at her soul.

The wind howled above, matching the fury inside her. Her wolf, restless and wild, growled softly in her mind, a constant reminder of the struggle to hold onto control. Every flash of lightning illuminated her tear-streaked face, the intensity of the storm mirroring the turmoil within.

As she stumbled into a clearing, her body trembling from the cold, her feet threatened to stop moving. The storm had soaked her to the bone, and exhaustion was quickly overtaking her resolve. But as her eyes darted through the rain, a movement caught her attention. Something—someone—was out there.

She froze, her senses instantly heightened.

"Who's there?" Her voice trembled, betraying her fear, but she didn't lower her stance. Her hands curled into fists, ready for whatever threat might come.

A figure emerged from the shadows of the trees, tall and confident. The rain did nothing to obscure his form. With every step he took, his presence seemed to grow stronger. Lightning flashed across the sky, revealing the sharp cut of his jaw and the intensity of his piercing green eyes. His hair, dark and drenched, clung to his face, but it only seemed to add to his commanding aura.

"Are you alright?" His voice was low and rough, but there was a calming quality to it that made Annatoria pause.

She didn't trust him—not yet. Her wolf growled softly in her mind, its warning clear. She tensed, but kept her guard up. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the wariness in her heart.

The man gave a slight smirk, though there was no malice in his eyes. "You're the one wandering through my territory in the middle of a storm. Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Your territory?" Annatoria's eyes narrowed, every instinct telling her to be cautious.

"Moon Crest Pack lands," he replied, his gaze unwavering. "You're lucky I found you first."

Annatoria's pulse quickened at his words. "What does that mean?" she asked, stepping back, her body tense.

"Just that you should be careful around here," he said, his tone softening slightly. "The woods aren't as empty as they look."

Annatoria barely had time to process his words before a distant howl split the air, sending a cold shiver down her spine. It was unmistakable—the sound of rogue wolves.

"Rogues," the man muttered, his expression hardening.

Annatoria's wolf stirred within her, primal and fierce. There was no time for hesitation. Her instincts took over as she shifted into her wolf form, every muscle in her body coiled and ready to fight. The rogues appeared from the darkness, their eyes glowing with malice, and she lunged into action.

She fought with everything she had, her claws slashing through the wet air, her teeth sinking into fur. Each strike was calculated, but there were too many of them. The rogues' numbers seemed endless, and just as she began to falter, one of them slammed into her from behind, sinking its fangs deep into her shoulder.

Pain shot through her, but before she could retaliate, the sound of a deafening roar cut through the chaos. The rogue was torn from her, thrown like a ragdoll against a tree. Annatoria's breath caught in her throat as she turned to see the man—the Alpha—standing over the fallen rogue.

His wolf form was massive, dark fur bristling with raw power. His eyes glowed with a dangerous intensity as he surveyed the scene. With a swift, fluid motion, he shifted back into his human form, wet clothes clinging to his muscular frame, but his presence still unwavering. He scanned the area, ensuring there were no other threats, before turning his attention to Annatoria.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice calm yet laced with concern.

Annatoria's legs shook as she tried to rise, her shoulder bleeding. "I'm fine," she lied, though her voice wavered slightly.

The Alpha stepped closer, his sharp gaze lingering on her wound. "You're lucky I was here. Rogues don't play fair."

Annatoria's wolf growled softly in response, a mix of pride and gratitude, but she was still wary. "Thanks," she muttered, barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his expression softening. "Come with me. My pack is nearby. You can rest, recover, and be on your way when you're ready."

Before Annatoria could respond, the Alpha bent down, examining one of the rogue's lifeless bodies. His fingers traced a jagged mark on the rogue's arm, and his face hardened.

"What is it?" Annatoria asked, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

"This mark," he said grimly, running a finger over the scar, "belongs to Manga.." as he locked his eyes on hers. Annatoria's eyes shone in fear.

"Manga?" Annatoria repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

The Alpha's gaze was cold now, his voice steady. "He's a notorious wolf hunter. He and his followers attack weak packs, lone wolves—anyone they think they can control. They mark their own with that symbol. This wasn't random." He met her eyes, his expression darkening. "If Manga's rogues are after you, they won't stop until they get what they want."

A chill ran down Annatoria's spine as she realized the gravity of the situation. She had been running, but now it was clear—her troubles were far from over.

She hesitated, pride clashing with the harsh reality of the situation. But as she looked at the mark, her decision became clear. She couldn't survive this alone.

"Fine," she said, her voice steady but reluctant. "I'll come with you. Until I'm recovered."

The Alpha's lips quirked into a small, approving smile. "Fair enough."

Together, they walked through the forest, the rain beginning to taper off. The weight of the world still pressed heavily on Annatoria's shoulders, but for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel completely alone.

"Are they after us?" That voice sounded in her head as she walked so close to Asher's Beta