The Blind Alpha
highlight_author
Salem Morgan
highlight_reads
2,4M
highlight_chapters
38
Chapter 1
SELENE
A howl split the air, low and resonant.
The bucket slipped from my hand, the crank spinning out of control. My heart raced as the sound echoed, filling every corner of the pack lands.
It wasnât just any howl. This one was deep, raw, and electric.
Wolves froze mid-step. Conversations died. Even the wind seemed to hush.
âThatâs him,â someone whispered.
I didnât have to ask who. Everyone knew.
Luxury Theron.
Our alpha. Our monster.
No one saw him unless he wanted to be seen, and even then, you didnât look. Not into his eyes.
The stories said you wouldnât live to talk about it if you did.
The howl faded, leaving the air thick, pressing down like an unseen hand.
A flicker of something sparked in my chest, sharp and unsteady, like the first strike of a match. It wasnât fear, though I shouldâve been afraid.
It wasnât anger, though the pack had given me plenty of reasons to be.
It was hunger.
For something more. For something I couldnât name.
I turned back to the well, tightening my grip on the crank. The day was long, like all the others before it. My muscles ached from hauling grain and water, my skin roughened from the ceaseless labor assigned to me. That was the way of thingsâmortals served. If you couldnât shift, you worked.
I wasnât the only one. Other mortals existed within the pack, but they were younger. Still hopeful.
Iâd passed hopeful years ago.
At twenty-one, I was an anomaly. No one whispered about my potential anymore. I was past the threshold, past the time of promise, past the age when wolves found their form.
But something inside me refused to let go.
The night air wrapped around me as I made my way toward the creek. It was my only sanctuaryâwhere I could strip away the filth and, for a moment, forget that I didnât belong.
The communal baths were never an option. Not for someone like me. Weakness was blood in the water, and I had enough wounds that hadnât healed.
The creek was safer. The cold bite of the water was harsh, but honest. It didnât mock me, didnât question why I was still here, still waiting for a shift that would never come.
Here, beneath the moonâs watchful gaze, I could exist without their judgment.
Just for a little while.
The water burned against my skin as I stepped in, shocking the tension from my muscles. I let it steal the heat of the day, washing away dirt, sweat, and the invisible weight of servitude.
Thenâ
A snap of a twig.
I stilled, my breath caught in my throat.
Slowly, I lifted my head, scanning the tree line. Shadows stretched long beneath the moon. Silent.
Still, the feeling remained. The weight of unseen eyes pressing in. Watching. Waiting.
âHello?â My voice carried over the water, barely above a whisper.
No answer.
A shiver danced along my spine as I forced myself to move, finishing rinsing off before climbing onto the bank. My fingers trembled as I redressed, stealing glances toward the darkened woods. Whoeverâor whateverâhad been there was gone now.
At least, I hoped so.
The walk back to the pack house felt longer than usual. My boots scuffed against the worn wooden steps as I pushed the door open. The warmth of the common room wrapped around me, thick with the scent of burning wood and damp bodies, but it did little to chase away the lingering chill clinging to my skin.
I kept my head down as I wove through the space. No one paid me any mind. They never did.
The mortal quarters were in the far corner of the house, tucked away like an afterthought. The room stretched wide, lined with cots, barely separated by personal belongingsâthreadbare blankets, small wooden trunks, the occasional candle flickering low.
I made my way to my own cot near the back, sinking onto the thin mattress. Exhaustion dragged at my limbs, but sleep refused to come. My mind circled back to the howl, the way it had crawled beneath my skin, stirring something deep inside me.
Something I didnât understand.
Something awakening.
My stomach tensed, a deep warmth unfurling in my core, curling, pulsing.
My breath caught as I shifted against the blankets, my body suddenly restless, aching with something I couldnât name. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it away, but the sensation lingered, teasing the edges of my awareness before fading into nothingness.
Gone as quickly as it came.
I exhaled, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding.
What was that?
A dream? A trick of exhaustion? Or was it something more?
I didnât have an answer, but I knew one thing for certain. Alpha Theronâs howl wasnât just a call to the pack. It was a signal.
And somehow, impossibly, it had reached me, too.
I rolled onto my side, pressing my fingers into my stomach as if I could hold onto whatever stirred inside me. But the warmth had vanished, leaving only a whisper of its presence behind.
Still, I couldnât shake the feeling that something had changed.
And that whatever had begun tonightâit wasnât done yet.
When I woke, the room was bathed in golden light. I sat up, my feet finding the cold floor as my mind tried to process what had happened.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was a byproduct of the stress and fatigue, a side effect of living in a body that wasnât quite what it was meant to be.
Still, as I rubbed my eyes, something about the feeling wouldnât let go. I couldnât explain it, but deep down, I knew it wasnât just a passing moment.
I shook my head and dressed quickly, trying to shake off the lingering confusion.
There was work to do, and no time to indulge in questions. The pack would be up soon, and the day would begin.
The heat in my belly might have faded, but the unanswered feeling gnawed at me, and I couldnât help but wonder, as I stepped outside into the crisp morning air, if maybe that sensation was a sign.
A sign of something coming. Something that had to do with me. Something that had to do with the wolves.
I hoped so. I missed being part of a family, of not being looked at as something lesser. Even my parents had given up on me. I hadnât seen or spoken to them since I turned nineteen and still hadnât shifted. After years of empty reassurancesâsoon, just be patientâthey finally stopped pretending.
They made sure they were never around to face the disappointment. There were plenty of jobs within the pack lands, but they chose one that kept them constantly movingâtraveling for the alpha and his army, always on the road, always away. They never returned for long, and when they did, they never sought me out.
I was an afterthought.
Easier to leave behind.
Their disappointment was etched deep into their silence.
I had no siblings, no extended family, no one to lean on but the wolvesâand they were too busy with their own lives to care about a mortal standing at the bottom of their hierarchy.
So, I was alone.
But there was one thing I held onto, something that kept me from drowning in the despair that always threatened to rise: the other mortals around me. Despite everything, despite the years of work and toil, I found moments of solace in them.
The conversations between the boys and girls who still held onto their humanity, just as I did, were my small escape from the world of wolves that always seemed to loom over me.
A girl no older than sixteen stood beside me most days, passing a heavy bag of grain to another. Her name was Lina, and though she hadnât shifted yet, I could see the faint shimmer of anticipation in her eyes.
She was barely old enough to understand the full weight of what that change meant, but she was already eagerly awaiting it.
âHey, Selene,â she said as we worked. âHow do you think itâll feel when we shift? Do you think weâll be able to hear everything, like the stories say?â
Her curiosity was genuine, her words not born from mocking but from that deep, unrelenting hope.
Her questions were the kind of questions I used to ask when I was her ageâbefore I learned that hope could be a dangerous thing when you had nothing to base it on.
âI donât know,â I answered quietly, forcing a smile. âMaybeâŠmaybe itâs like everything coming alive inside you. But I think itâs different for everyone.â
Lina looked at me for a long moment, her brow furrowed as if she was trying to understand.
âYou think maybe...youâll be able to shift soon?â
The question stung.
I had no answer for herâno good answer, at least.
âIâm not sure,â I said, my voice steady. âBut I think when it happens for you, youâll know. Just like you know when itâs your time to do something else.â
She nodded, her expression still thoughtful, but she didnât press.
It wasnât her fault that I couldnât shift.
It wasnât anyoneâs fault.
It just was.
As we continued working through the day, more of the mortals drifted into the barn, chatting with one another while they worked.
They talked about their dreams of shifting, their families, their expectations for what the future would hold once their wolves came to the surface.
They spoke of hunting, of pack runs, of standing tall with the wolves, of becoming one with the strength that came with the shift.
And though I couldnât bring myself to join in their conversations about the changes they so eagerly awaited, I didnât mind listening.
For a moment, the weight of my loneliness didnât seem so heavy.
They still saw me, treated me like one of them, even if I wasnât.
Even if I was the odd one out, the one who didnât belong in their world.
But I couldnât help the ache that settled deep inside me as I watched them.
I was supposed to be one of them, too.
As the day wore on, I found a small moment of peace when I was left alone in the barn, sweeping up the last of the hay.
The others had all gone off to gather water or tend to the supplies, leaving me with the quiet.
It was then that I allowed myself a moment of rawness, letting the weight of everything wash over me.
I wasnât sure why I hadnât shifted.
Why I was still here, stuck in the human world, in a place I didnât belong.
But deep down, I could feel the stirring inside meâthe same pull I felt earlier, the one that burned in my belly, just out of reach.
It was still there, waiting.
And I wasnât sure if it was a sign that maybe my time was finally coming, or if it was just another cruel reminder that I would never be enough.
But somehow, in the company of the other mortals, I kept going, kept moving forward, because it was all I could do.
