The Lost Pack: Dark Untamed Fate

** Bastian's POV **

By the time Alaric and I step into town, I already know this isn't going to be simple. Not because of the rumours. There are always rumours, half of them nonsense, the other half warnings people ignore until it's too late.

I know because Jude and Shay don't exaggerate, ever. When Jude tells you something feels wrong, you listen. When Shay tells you something feels interesting, you prepare. And when they both say the same girl doesn't smell human, wolf, or witch?... You go see for yourself.

The coffee shop looks harmless enough. Bright windows and soft chatter. Humans packed together with their caffeine addictions and their blissful ignorance of our existence. This is the kind of place nothing supernatural should ever touch.

I clock her immediately, not because she looks up, but because Alaric stops breathing. It's so subtle that anyone else would miss it. Just a fraction of a second where his chest doesn't rise, where his shoulders lock like his body is bracing for impact. I follow his gaze.

She's behind the counter, wiping it down with exaggerated focus, pretending she hasn't noticed us even though her entire body has gone tense. Interesting.

Her scent reaches me a heartbeat later, mixing with the smell of coffee and sweet syrup. It smells powerful, charged with an electric heat that makes my wolf still instead of surge. That alone tells me she's dangerous.

I glance sideways at Alaric. His eyes have darkened, gold flickering behind them like fire. That's bad, very bad, because Alaric doesn't react like this. He doesn't let instinct overpower logic. He doesn't lock onto strangers in public places like the world just narrowed down to that single person, and yet... here we are.

"She's pretending not to see us," I murmur quietly.

"I know," he replies, his voice tight.

Which means he's already deeper in this than he should be.

We don't approach right away; instead, we take a table and observe. We do what Alphas are supposed to do when faced with something unknown so close to our territory.

She works like she's wound too tight, her movements stiff, her smile forced, and eyes flicking up just often enough to track where we are without looking like she's staring. There's humour in her and a streak of defiance. I can see it even from here.

Then the other server, who I hadn't even noticed until now, says something I don't catch, and they both look at us. I don't miss the way her eyes widen a fraction as they meet mine. She knows what I am. My wolf tilts its head. Crazy coffee girl isn't so crazy after all. She's definitely something, but it's not crazy.

My eyes track her as she disappears into the back room, muttering something about break time. Alaric doesn't hesitate, he stands. I'm on my feet immediately, but he lifts a hand without looking at me, silently telling me to stay.

I almost ignore him, but the look on his face isn't reckless, it's full of intent. He's focused, like he knows exactly what he's doing, even if I don't like it. So I sit back down and watch the hallway. The seconds stretch, and my wolf paces, uneasy but not panicked.

Then it happens. It's not a sound as such, more of a shift. The pressure changes in the air, and then Alaric stumbles back into the main shop. He doesn't fall or crash into anything, but he comes out of that hallway looking like someone hit him square in the chest with something invisible. My stomach drops.

He doesn't even look at me as he moves toward the door. "She ran out the back door," he says.

Not she left... She ran; that distinction matters. I'm moving before I can think better of it. We hit the street just in time to see her disappear around the corner, her hair flying behind her, panic rolling off her in waves that I can feel from here.

Alaric takes one step after her, then stops. Two wolves stand between us and the direction she fled. They're not Mountain Ridge, and not any I recognise from River Pack. They're definitely not local and they feel wrong in a way that sets my instincts on edge. Their eyes hold a strange light, not the gold of a wolf or the silver shimmer of a witch; it's something in between, metallic and moonlit. My wolf doesn't rise, though. It stills. That's when I know they're dangerous.

"Stop," one of them says calmly.

I step half a pace in front of Alaric without making it obvious. "Who are you?"

"Phoenix Pack," the other replies.

Of course they are. The pack every Alpha is suddenly talking about. The pack tied to the goddess rumours, and whose territory hunters seem to avoid as if it's cursed ground.

"We're here for her," the first one says. "We have not stepped foot into your territory, and don't plan to, unless she does."

Alaric's jaw tightens. "She's under your protection?"

"She is."

I watch my twin carefully. His hands flex, his shoulders tense, and his wolf presses hard against his control, wanting to run, to chase, to claim. He doesn't.

"And who exactly is she to the Phoenix pack?" I ask.

The pair look at each other for a brief second before turning back to us.

"She's the sister of our Luna."

That lands heavily. I don't look at Alaric, I don't need to. I can feel the moment the realisations sink in.

The goddess rumours, the healed wolves. The way the balance of power has shifted since Phoenix stopped playing by the old rules, and now her. A girl hiding in a coffee shop.

Alaric's voice comes out controlled, but strained. "We mean her no harm."

"Curiosity can become harmful when you pursue someone who's running," the Phoenix wolf replies too calmly.

"I didn't touch her," Alaric snaps. "She touched me."

"She's frightened," the Phoenix wolf continues. "And she doesn't want to be found."

"I understand running," Alaric says, his eyes fixed on where the crazy coffee girl had vanished.

For a second, everything goes quiet, then the Phoenix wolf nods once. "Then let her."

"And if we don't?" I ask coolly.

"That," he says, "would be a mistake."

He doesn't say it like a threat; it's more like a fact. They step back, then melt into the passersby as if they were never there. Alaric doesn't move, he just continues to stare down the street where her scent is already fading, his jaw tight and eyes burning.

"What happened back there?" I ask quietly.

"I asked what she was," he says.

"And?"

"She didn't answer. She pushed past me," he sighs. "She looked scared of what would happen if she stayed."

And there it is. Not fear of him, but fear of being seen. Fear of being claimed, because she senses the pull that none of us have admitted out loud yet. My wolf shifts, uneasy.

"We have a chosen mate arriving next week," I remind him gently.

He flinches.

"I know," he says, but his eyes don't leave the street.

That's when I fully understand the truth of it. This isn't just attraction or curiosity. This is fate rearing its head in the most inconvenient, destabilising way possible. Fate doesn't care what we've promised other packs.

I clap a hand on Alaric's shoulder, grounding him.

"We'll handle this," I say. "Carefully."

He finally looks at me, and in his eyes, I see it. It's not acceptance, or a decision, but something far worse... Hope, and that, more than anything, tells me we're in trouble. Hope is dangerous. I've seen packs fall apart because an Alpha started believing the world might bend for him. Because he thought one impossible thing mattered more than the hundred lives depending on his restraint.

Mountain Ridge doesn't survive on hope. We survive on preparation, boundaries, and knowing when to draw the line.

As we turn back toward the mountain, I make a quiet decision. I'll give Alaric space to breathe, to steady himself and remember who he is beyond instinct, but I won't leave this to chance. I'll speak to Jude and Shay again. I'll start digging into Phoenix, into their Luna, into what kind of power needs guarding like that, and if fate really has set its sights on me and my brother?... Then I'll make damn sure it doesn't take Mountain Ridge down with us.