The Alpha of the 13th District

Outside the Moon Cavern.

Night. Vivid lightning. The wind was not just wind; it howled, swirling around as if searching for something.

The clouds were gray and blue, darkening the sky even though the ceremony was over.

"Kiera!" A voice cut through the chaos or perhaps from fear.

Freya, her Beta, immediately pulled her arm, trying to pull her away from the altar, from the black fire, from the dead priest.

"We have to go! Now—something's wrong!"

But Kiera couldn't move immediately.

As if something was holding her body from the inside.

In the midst of the chaotic energy, in the midst of the screams of the Elders and the fall of the spirit flames, her skin was blazing. Not literally burning but more painful.

She slowly looked at her right palm.

And there she saw it. The mark. It wasn't a simple sigil. It was a living carving, moving. As if carved by fire itself, the shape of a full moon, two fangs, and a fire circling everything.

It shifted. As if it had a pulse.

"Freya…" she whispered softly, her eyes wide. "I feel him."

"Who?"

"Asher."

For a few seconds, Kiera tried to close her mind, her feelings but it was too late.

There was a connection. Not just magic. Not just skin. A connection of blood. Of feeling. Of pain.

Kiera suddenly winced. A pain in her side. Sharp. But not from her.

She looked around. Then she saw him.

Asher, just a few meters away, standing at the edge of the woods.

Dark eyes. Holding his side. They were the same. Both hurt.

Oh moon… it's real.

Kiera approached, trying to step even though it felt like iron was splitting her back.

When she reached the shade of the tree, she stopped in front of Asher.

The rain began to fall, not hard, but cold. Like a warning. Like water on a fire that won't die.

"What did you do?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Not in fear.

But in anger mixed with confusion.

Asher looked at her. And for the first time since the beginning of the ceremony, there seemed to be a crack in his mask.

"You felt it."

"Yes."

"Then you know."

"Know what? That you put a curse on me? That you forced the bond?"

Asher's voice was flat, but low. "That if I bleed... you bleed. That if I burn... you burn with me."

Kiera's breath caught. Of all the possibilities… this was what she feared. Not just a bond. Not just an oath. But a shared fate.

A mark that was not just a connection—but a weakness. A way to control her. To hurt her. To force her to obey.

"This isn't destiny," she said, whispering but sharp. "This is control."

"It wasn't me," Asher replied, firmly. "The gods wanted this."

"Then the gods can burn too."

Kiera let out a slow breath. The pain, it's still there.

The mark on her palm glowed faintly beneath the storm light, silver like a wound that wouldn't close. And with every beat, she felt Asher's heart.

She didn't want it. But she couldn't escape it either.

Freya called out from behind the trees. "Kiera! We need to move—Now!"

Kiera glanced back, then turned to Asher one last time.

"Don't follow me."

Asher didn't move.

He simply looked down at the mark on his own palm, still burning.

"I don't need to. You'll feel me anyway."

The Bonding Room.

An ancient chamber, seemingly carved from the nightmares of the Alphas. The walls were made of black stone, etched with silver carvings that shimmered under magical energy. Runes in each corner emitted faint warmth and shadow, as if breathing on their own.

No windows. No guards. No escape. Only one bed. And the two of them.

The iron door slammed shut behind them like a thunderclap.

The echo crawled through the room, passing through the seemingly living walls, and devoured the silence.

Kiera flinched. But not because she was afraid. Not because she was surprised.

But because of the sudden, sharp pull of the bond, like a chain of heat and cold suddenly wrapped around her body, flowing to her chest, then creeping down to her marked palm.

Painful. Heavy. Unexpected.

Great start, she whispered to herself, forcing herself to maintain her composure even as her entire system was suddenly reset by her proximity to the creature her blood rejected but her soul recognized.

On the other side of the room, Asher Navarro stood. Silent. Upright. Every shadow clung to him as if unwilling to let go.

His presence wasn't just cold. It was like smoke from an unquenchable fire.

Heavy. Hot. Burning.

He wasn't doing anything. But his very presence seemed to suffocate the entire room.

They looked at each other from opposite ends, both motionless.

But the tension between them was like a storm waiting for a single lightning bolt to explode.

Their breathing was uneven.

Both seemed to be burning, but neither wanted to admit it.

The mark on Kiera's hand gradually warmed. Not fire, but presence. Asher's presence.

With every step he took, with every movement of that man, it felt like smoke was seeping into Kiera's bones, smoke she couldn't stop but knew she could no longer retrieve.

Asher speaks first. "You can stop glaring. I'm not going to touch you."

His voice was like white ice—calm but with an edge underneath. As if deliberately reminding Kiera that he was still in control.

Or so he thought.

Kiera stepped forward. Quickly.

Resolutely. Without hesitation.

Her movement was like a charge into battle not hesitant, but full of purpose.

"Too late. Your bond already did."

Each word Asher spoke was like a released bullet, silent, but directly hitting its target.

At that moment, their eyes met.

Neither blinked. Neither retreated.

The anger. The heat. The tension.

Like waves that haven't yet crashed.

Like a fire deliberately not yet lit but present, waiting.

Kiera says it low, but deadly. "This isn't mating, Navarro. It's war with silk on its mouth."

Her voice was low, like a faint whisper in the dark. And in that moment, she didn't look like a woman in front of the Alpha.

She looked like war in the form of flesh and soul.

Suddenly, the single flame in the middle of the room flickered.

For a moment only. Then it turned black.

As if the shadow swallowed the fire, even if only for a second.

She smelled burning magic an ancient power that seemed to have been sleeping for a long time, but now awakening again.

They both fell silent. Both stopped.

Then Asher whispered softly, too gentle, yet clear to Kiera's ears:

"Did you feel that?"

It was night. Quiet. The single torch in the corner of the room was gradually dimming.

Kiera was lying with her back to Asher on the bed. She wasn't asleep. But she wasn't awake either. She was trying to fight off sleep.

But the bond was stronger tonight.

She felt the warm pulse of the mark on her palm not a normal ache.

Nor a wound. Like a heartbeat. But not hers. Asher's heartbeat.

Her eyelids grew heavy. And in the very moment she closed them.

The world changed.

When she opened her eyes, the room was still there. But it wasn't the same.

Same bed. Same walls. But there was no light.

Shadow prevailed.

The runes on the wall pulsed red like wounds.

The air was thick, like smoke. The floor? It seemed to breathe.

She looked at her palm.

The mark was throbbing. There were two pulses.

Then it felt like it exploded inside her skin, like a warning.

Kiera knew, this wasn't just a dream.

It was a bond vision. And she wasn't in control of it.

She heard it. A groan. Low. Hoarse.

Broken. Not just anger. There was pain.

She followed the sound.

Her footsteps were silent, but the shadows seemed to cling to her every movement.

She left no trace. As if she wasn't fully there. And in front of her—a lake.

Not water. But fire.

A lake of burning gold and blood, shimmering like a scar that refused to heal.

In the middle of it—Asher. But he wasn't in human form.bHe was in Asher's wolf form. Crouching. Crying.

Howling in pain. His fur was burnt. His body was wounded.

And his eyes—were looking at Kiera.

Not gentle. Not pleading. Angry at the pain and at her.

Kiera approached. Her body resisted, but she forced herself. With every step, the fire hurt her. But she didn't retreat.

She reached out her hand—And suddenly—A shadow crashed into her.

She was thrown back. She gasped.

And from the edge of the lake, a creature rose.

A wolf. Bigger. Darker.

Faceless—but the eyes like Kiera.

It didn't howl. It didn't attack. But it spoke. Not through its mouth, directly into her mind.

"Save him, and you will burn. Let him die, and you will live."

Kiera trembled.

The fire in the lake intensified.

Asher was slowly sinking.

His cries weren't the sounds of an Alpha.

It was the sound of a creature destroyed by its own curse.

Kiera approached again.

But the shadow wolf blocked her.

"He's not who you think he is. Something lives inside him… and it's wanted to die for a long time."

Kiera's head ached. Her vision blurred. They were flashes.

Asher—bound, screaming under the moon.

Asher—kneeling before a creature with a crown of bones.

And it was Kiera. Holding fire. Pointed at Asher's heart.

She screamed. Kiera jolted awake in bed. She gasped for breath. Sweating.

Trembling.

The room was silent. Asher was still there.

Silent.

Eyes closed. Asleep—or pretending.

But something was wrong. Her arm hurt.

She looked—There were three claw marks. Deep. Fresh. Bleeding.

But Asher, hadn't touched her. And in the darkness, holding her wound, Kiera whispered softly: "What secret are you hiding, Asher?"