I startle, sitting up as a hundred voices dance in my head.
….need to order more apples for pie…
…have you seen my red socks?
…homework is late again, you’ll…
Kitara.
I stiffen, hearing Ryker as loudly as if he were beside me. The other voices abruptly disappear, until it’s just me and him.
You’re oversharing. I’m closing you off from the pack to protect your secrets from them.He sounds amused.Eat and dress. I’ll meet you once my morning brief is complete.
Yes, Alpha.
His displeasure rolls toward me with the swiftness of a wave, crashing into me.
Ryker, he corrects.I am never Alpha to you.
Our connection weakens, leaving me alone in our bed. I slip from under the covers to find a soft robe laid out. The material feels rich against my skin, nothing like the threadbare hand-me-downs I’d been provided in the Silvercrest Pack.
The main chamber beyond the bedroom is empty, but evidence of Ryker’s morning remains—a cup on the stone table, maps spread across its surface, markers showing territories and borders. Looking closer, I see they’re planningdocuments, defensive positions marked in what looks like dried blood rather than ink.
War preparations.
I’m studying them when the door scrapes open. I turn, expecting Ryker, but instead find a tall female with copper-auburn hair and striking amber eyes. She carries a tray of food, steam rising from a bowl that fills the air with savory aromas that make my stomach growl embarrassingly loud.
“Oh!” She startles slightly upon seeing me, then recovers with a formal nod. “Alpha Female. I didn’t realize you were awake.”
The title makes me tense. “Please, call me Kitara.”
She hesitates, clearly torn between protocol and my request. “I’m Nora. The Alpha asked me to bring you breakfast and show you around.” She sets the tray down, keeping a respectful distance. Unlike Lithia’s open hostility, Nora’s manner is carefully neutral—professional courtesy rather than personal welcome.
“Thank you.” I approach the table as she arranges the meal. “Where is Ry—the Alpha?”
“Patrolling the borders with the enforcers.” She doesn’t look up as she works. “After last night’s attack, he’s strengthening our defenses.”
My fingers find the claiming mark automatically. Through our bond, I can sense Ryker’s presence—distant but focused, alert, his attention focused on pack business and constant awareness of me.
“How many died in the attack?” I ask quietly.
Nora’s hands pause. “None of ours. Many of theirs.” Her amber eyes finally meet mine. “Thanks to your warning.”
The memory of the tunnel vision returns—blood and silver. “It wasn’t?—”
“It was exactly what we needed,” she interrupts, her tone firm. “The Alpha explained what happened.”
I duck my head, uncomfortable with the implication that Ihad somehow saved them. My visions have always been treated as a tool at best, a burden at worst. Never as something worthy of gratitude.
Nora gestures to the food. “You should eat. The Alpha was clear about keeping up your strength.” Her eyes flick to the claiming mark, then away. “He said your gift drains you.”
I sit, aware of the hollow feeling in my stomach. The meal is simple but hearty, some kind of sweet oat mix with chunks of fruit and berries. I take a tentative bite and have to stifle a moan at the explosion of flavor.
“This is delicious,” I manage between bites.
Nora’s expression softens fractionally. “Marta is our cook. She insists on only the best produce.” She watches me eat with a thoughtful expression. “The Alpha said you’re to have your own quarters prepared, if you wish.”
I nearly choke on my mouthful. “My own quarters?”
