Page 106 of My Shy Alpha

At first, there’s only silence. One wolf lets out a soft whine, inspiring a rippling reaction of soft whimpers and sad howls for my late father - the pack’s last top Beta.

The howls shred my heart in particular; tears blur my eyes on impact. Noah draws me closer, nuzzling my cheeks in front of everyone.

“I’m here, sweet Omega. They’re here too.”

But I’m extra sensitive to anger after what I’ve been through. My attention zips through the crowd, sniffing aggression out.

When it dawns on them who my father’s mate was, a few wolves shout at one another. I can’t make it out, but I don’t have to – I hear the dissent in their tone.

Gaping on the stage in front of thousands, I watch my existence divide the pack that was whole just moments ago, fierce defenders on either side. Even with some support, my heart pangs with every hateful cry over my human mother’s blood in my veins. I cower behind Noah’s back, wishing I could disappear.

Noah reverts into someone more Alpha than he has seemed since we met. He whips off his vest and tunic, his bare, puffing chest daring to shift into his wolf form.

“If you’re challenging my mate, you’re challenging me.” Despite keeping his usual even tone, his voice is booming. Furious.

I’ve never seen such a massive crowd fall silent in a single breath. All that’s left is my rapid breathing, shallow and rocky compared to Noah’s deep, hot anger.

As I slip into panic, Noah turns to cup my cheeks. “You’re okay, sweet Omega. You’re safe. I’ve got you, and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that.”

I nod, struggling to slow my breath. But movement catches my eye. A wolf shifts in the distance, prowling at the tree line. They’re far behind Noah, but their shoulders shift with intention in every step, revealing us as their target.

I can’t speak past the uncontrollable flex of my lungs, but Noah senses my heightened panic. He peppers kisses over my mark, staving off his angry scent even though I can feel him still boiling.

But the prowling wolf charges - a flash of fur whipping through the trees. Pitch-black shadows beneath swollen canopies blur my depth perception, making the wolf impossible to track. All I see are blinking reflections over dark fur, catching in the moonlight like a flashing alarm. Each blip of frigid blue draws nearer, gaining in speed with violent, rippling leaps.

They’re coming for us. Coming to rip apart our flesh until we’re bloody, unrecognizable shreds of meat.

Fuck, that sounds like PTSD talking. Is this fear just PTSD? What if that wolf is just overly excited?

No, they’re bristling with rage, claws scraping through the leaves hard enough to hear the dissonant crunching from here. Whether they’re furious enough to physically harm us, I have no way of knowing for certain. “Never back a rat into a corner,” Dad used to say. The desperation in this wolf’s eyes is what scares me.

But what if they’re innocent? Noah might kill them if he thinks they’ll kill us. What if my panic forces Noah to be responsible for murdering an innocent member of his pack, and he has to live with that stain forever? Be exiled, or killed by angry Lycan families? Wouldn’t that make me the ultimate murderer in this?

Fuck, that sounds like OCD talking too.

What do I do? What’s the right answer?

I know there isn’t one. There never is. I sputter through squeaky breaths, hating every wasted second I’ve spent indecisive. My eyes are so wide that they ache, uncertainty raging like acid through my veins. But is this really OCD talking?

No, this wolf is surging closer. They see me looking at them, yet they stare me dead in the eyes. My skin ices over, battling the burning fire in my limbs that tempts me to scream. This wolf’s teeth bare wider with every breath, dripping incisors stringing drool as they open their mouth wider, wider, wider.

Until they’re mere feet from us.

Noah is still wrapped up in me, his back vulnerable. It feels like I’ve been standing here, frozen for minutes, when it’s been maybe three seconds. But I can’t warn Noah. The charging wolf beelines for his bare skin, nocturnal eyes glistening with killing intent now that they’re facing the full moon.

I choke out a panicked yelp - there’s no time for anything else.

That’s when I finally recognize them. Yellow, burning irises scathe Noah with unfaltering conviction, surrounded by brown fur.

This is that same wolf: the one who attacked Noah the day we met.

But this time, they’re not just stalking us to attack. They plan to kill. It rushes in with their scent on the wind, scalding my nervous system with the worst horror imaginable.

I don’t have time to think anymore.

But my wolf does.

I’m never letting my loved ones get hurt again!

---