Desired By The Wrong Alpha

The bodyguard looked at Sloane with furious eyes, veins bulging, he was one step away from shifting on the spot.

The moment he lashed out, Solane was circled by the overgrowing Beta energy. It was easier for her as a Luna, but the scene was terrifying.

"Ex." as she opened her mouth to speak, another commanding voice echoed in the cabin.

"Stand down."

The bodyguards froze mid-step, their heads bowing low, instantly cowed by the weight of the voice. They backed off without another sound.

Sloane turned slowly, her pulse steady, though Ava stirred uneasily inside her.

The figure who approached wasn't like the rest. He wore only a black shirt, the top buttons undone, revealing glimpses of taut muscle and the faint marks of old scars. Tall, lean, carved from shadows, his sharp features carried a cold, unreadable power. Even the beads on his wrist, wolfbone polished smooth, seemed more talisman than ornament.

His gaze locked on her, as cool and ruthless as an Alpha's command.

Sloane cleared her throat, forcing calm. "Are you his father?"

The child's breathing had eased, his small body finally relaxing against her. The danger had passed, but he needed rest.

The man shook his head once.

She blinked. "No?"

"My nephew," he said at last. His voice was low, iron-hard, with no room for doubt. "Tell me what is going on with him."

He hesitated a beat, looking at her like she was a fraud and her touching his nephew was another trick for fun, but he added, "You won't be punished. Not when you meant no harm."

Relief loosened the tightness in Sloane's chest. For a moment, she'd truly thought she wouldn't leave this cabin alive.

She couldn't tell him what she noticed until she was sure about that thing. But for now a partial truth would suffice.

"His throat swelled nearly shut," she explained evenly. "Acute inflammation. Likely viral. He needs to be seen in a proper hospital as soon as we land. He's stable now, but keep him from stress, any more strain could trigger another attack."

As if to prove her words, the pup blinked awake, his bronze eyes glimmering as they fixed on her with awe, like she was the only light in the room.

The man gave a single nod, slow and deliberate. "You have my thanks."

Sloane offered a small smile, dipping her head respectfully. "I only did what a Healer must. It's the moon goddess's blessing."

"Still, I believe you deserve a token of gratitude." The man clicked his fingers, and one of the bodyguards gave her a bank card.

"I am sorry, I can't take this." Sloane stuttered.

"It's not a bribe, it's your fees. I hope you can take it." The man insisted, his voice still devoid of any emotion.

"I." she said.

"I insist," he said as he pressed the card into her hand.

Sloane was dumbfounded when she was escorted back to her seat. She was still reeling from the events that took place in the previous hour when she was once again summoned to the cabin.

"Please look after Master Volkov for the time being, that would be very helpful." One of the assistants pleaded.

Sloane agreed, she wanted to earn the money she was given. So that might be the way to ease the guilt.

Still, Sloane took her role seriously and kept her focus on the little wolf's breathing. His color returned, his pulse steadying, the faint rasp in his throat easing. Relief softened her shoulders.

After settling him, she wandered toward the door, gaze flicking over the lavish cabin. The space was opulent, marked by the unmistakable scent of old Alpha bloodlines, polished wood, carved runes etched into the corners, wards humming faintly. The hush inside was almost unnatural, as if the air itself bent in deference.

Through the window, she watched thick clouds roll beneath the plane's wings. For the first time in moons, she felt grounded.

Maybe when she first boarded, she was still mourning the severed bond with Damon, the weight of Caleb's rejection, the loss of a life she'd poured herself into.

But saving this child reminded her that her gifts weren't wasted. She wasn't just a discarded Luna. She was still a healer. Still a wolf with purpose.

That truth swelled inside her, warm and solid.

Suddenly.

A faint rustle stirred behind her.

She tensed.

The sound stopped. Silence pressed in.

Then, another rustle, closer this time. Testing her.

Her wolf pricked its ears. She turned slowly, but nothing greeted her.

Just as she started to face forward again, a small hand tugged gently at her tunic.

She glanced down instinctively.

And found herself staring into wide, yellow-tinged eyes.

The boy broke into a shy, awkward smile. His pale skin glowed in the cabin's lamplight, long lashes fluttering like a hawk moth's wings. When he blinked, those eyes shimmered like sunlight through amber.

Her chest softened instantly. A small pup suffering with that kind of pain.

Sensing her warmth, he nuzzled against her hand like a pup seeking comfort.

"What's your name, little wolf?" she asked, voice gentle.

The boy tilted his head, curls bouncing, and clung tighter to her fingers. His voice came out soft, sweet, still edged with a wolf pup's innocence.

"Jeremy Volkov."

Sloane chuckled and clasped his tiny hand, giving it a playful shake. "I'm Sloane Veyra. I'll be watching over you for now. You can call me Sloane. or Aunt Sloane, whichever you like."

"Aunt Sloane," he said solemnly, as though sealing a pact.

She nodded in approval, and his grin broke wide, dimples flashing like twin moons.

Too pure. Too bright. Sunshine wrapped in fur and skin.

The chamber was clearly designed for him, wolf toys scattered about, rune-marked blocks, carved wooden figurines of beasts.

While she checked his pulse again and listened to his breathing, she played with him, her hands quick and practiced. Years of dealing with Caleb's moods had made her patient; with this little one, it was effortless.

Soon, Jeremy was gazing at her with unguarded admiration.

"Auntie, you're amazing! Way cooler than my uncle!"

Sloane arched a brow, lips curving in a teasing lilt. "Is that so? Then, since you lost, it's time to take your medicine."

Jeremy obeyed without fuss, gulping down the herbal draught like a warrior in training.

By then, the plane began its descent.

A pack of bodyguards filed in silently to escort the pup away.

Ava gave a soft pang of reluctance. Still, she offered Jeremy a warm smile and lifted her hand in farewell.

He waved back, reluctant but trusting.

And just like that, the moment ended. She told herself it was over, just another episode in her journey.

She straightened her shoulders, packed her satchel, and stepped back into her true calling: the medical relief mission waiting below.

On the third day, just as Sloane finished scrawling the last notes on her healing reports and prepared to return to her quarters, a familiar scent drifted on the wind.

She froze mid-step.

Down the street, a towering man stood, broad-shouldered, dressed in black, unmistakably a war trained Beta. His stance was too deliberate, he wasn't there by chance. He was waiting.

Sloane's heart skipped.

Moon above... don't tell me saving that little wolf dragged me into pack politics. I can't afford to be tangled in another Alpha's mess.