The Weight of the Alpha

Chapter Ten: The Weight of the Alpha

Lucien Thorne – First Person

⸻

She looked at me like she didn't know who I was anymore.

Like the man she'd trusted, the man who held her hand and whispered comfort into her fear, had vanished the moment the rogue showed his face.

And maybe he had.

Because the Alpha had taken over.

I stood in front of her, muscles tight and senses on fire, holding back the beast inside me that wanted to rip the intruder to pieces. Aria's presence at my back was a living tether — the only thing keeping me from shifting right there and tearing through the trees like a damn hurricane.

The rogue snarled once, sharp and deliberate, then vanished into the darkness as suddenly as he'd come. No fight. No warning.

A message.

I exhaled slowly, my pulse pounding against my throat.

"We need to get back," I said without looking at her.

I couldn't. If I looked into her eyes, I might see something I wasn't ready for.

Fear.

Doubt.

Regret.

⸻

The walk back was tense, quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves beneath our boots.

I could feel her behind me. Hesitant. Guarded.

I hated that.

When we reached the edge of the property, she finally spoke. Her voice was soft, but it carried more weight than a shout.

"He knew you."

It wasn't a question.

I stopped and turned slowly, letting the truth settle between us.

"Yes."

Her brows drew together, her arms crossing over her chest like a shield. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I didn't want to overwhelm you."

"You mean lie to me."

The sting of her words hit harder than I expected. Because they were right.

I had lied. Not with words, but with silence. Omission. Cowardice.

"I didn't lie," I said carefully. "I was trying to protect you."

"From the truth?" She shook her head, laughing bitterly. "I saw you shift, Lucien. I saw what you are. I deserve to know what I'm walking into."

I stepped forward, lowering my voice. "It's not what you're walking into. It's what we're walking into. Together."

Her eyes locked on mine, fierce and bright. "You keep saying that. But I'm the only one without answers."

Gods, she was right again.

And that made everything worse.

⸻

Back inside, the pack house buzzed with tension. Word of the rogue's appearance had spread fast.

Caleb met me in the foyer, face grim.

"That wasn't just a warning," he said. "It was a challenge."

I nodded. "He wants something. He wouldn't have shown himself otherwise."

"And Aria saw him."

"She was with me. I didn't have a choice."

Caleb gave me a look — the kind that spoke of decades of loyalty strained under the weight of fear.

"She's not pack, Lucien."

"She's my mate."

"Then make her one."

⸻

That night, I stood on the balcony overlooking the forest, the moon high and bright above the trees. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, agitated and alert.

I heard her footsteps before I saw her.

"Lucien," Aria said quietly.

I turned. She stood in the doorway, wearing one of my shirts — oversized on her frame — her hair loose around her shoulders, moonlight turning her into something ethereal.

My breath caught.

"I'm sorry," she said, stepping forward.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"Yes, I do. I panicked. I blamed you for things I don't understand yet."

I reached for her hand, threading our fingers together.

"This is new for both of us. I don't expect you to know everything."

"I just…" Her voice broke. "I need to know you'll be honest with me from now on."

"I swear it," I said without hesitation.

And I meant it.

Because if I lost her, I'd lose everything.

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She didn't pull her hand away.

That alone nearly undid me.

Aria's skin was soft, but there was steel beneath the surface — a strength that had nothing to do with claws or fangs. She was brave in a way I wasn't sure I ever had been. Brave enough to stand beside me even when the ground kept shifting beneath her feet.

I guided her gently toward the bench at the edge of the balcony. The wind picked up, carrying the faint, musky scent of wolves beyond the perimeter — our sentries, alert and ready.

"You said he was a challenge," she murmured, curling her legs beneath her.

I sat beside her, elbows resting on my knees. "That rogue? His name is Thorne."

"Like your last name?"

I gave a short laugh. "No relation. Though the irony is not lost on me. Thorne used to be one of us. Until he wasn't."

Aria's brows drew together, thoughtful and cautious. "You mean… he was part of your pack?"

I nodded slowly. "Years ago, before I took the Alpha seat. My father exiled him for violating sacred laws. He turned against our kind, sold information to hunters, used forbidden rituals to increase his strength."

"And now he's back."

"Yes. And he's bolder than ever."

Aria's hand tightened in mine. "You think he's coming for you."

"No," I said. "He's coming for us."

⸻

The silence between us stretched.

She didn't flinch. Didn't withdraw. Her jaw tightened, and her spine straightened like a soldier preparing for war.

"So what do we do?" she asked.

There it was again — we.

That word meant more than she realized. It was an invitation. A vow. A shared breath in the middle of chaos.

"We prepare," I said. "We strengthen the pack, set traps, call in allies. We train."

Aria looked up at me. "And me?"

I hesitated.

"I don't want to be a bystander, Lucien. I'm not just a… a fragile human who needs saving."

"No," I said, voice low and reverent. "You're not."

"But you've been protecting me like I am."

I ran a hand through my hair. "Because if anything happens to you, Aria—"

She touched my face, fingers brushing along my jaw.

"I'm not asking you to stop caring. I'm asking you to trust me. Let me fight beside you."

My wolf howled inside me at her words — not in warning, but in fierce, wild approval.

"I'll train you myself," I said, voice rough. "Tomorrow morning. Before dawn."

She smiled, tired but defiant. "Then I'll be ready."

⸻

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I paced the length of my room, restless and wired. My wolf stirred beneath the surface, agitated, alert.

The moon had shifted — fuller, brighter, closer.

Something was coming.

I walked past my bed and down the stairs to the lower level, where the war room waited. Caleb was already there, maps sprawled across the table, his brow furrowed.

"She's not ready," he said without looking up.

I didn't respond immediately.

"She will be," I said.

"She's human."

"She's mine."

Caleb's jaw tightened, but he said nothing else.

We didn't need to fight about this again.

Instead, I pointed to the eastern ridge. "Set double patrols here. It's where Thorne will test us first. He always liked striking from the flanks."

Caleb nodded and made a note.

"We're running out of time," he said.

"I know."

"And if Aria shifts…?"

"She won't."

"But if she does, it'll trigger the bond."

I met his gaze. "Then I'll be ready to claim her."