Chapter 11:
“Let her rest, Marcus.”
The voice belonged to my mother, who appeared at the edge of the clearing, her expression calm but firm. She crossed her arms, her gaze softening as it landed on me.
“She needs to learn,” my father replied, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.
“She is learning,” my mother said.
“But pushing her until she breaks won’t make her stronger. It will make her resent you.”
Their eyes locked in a silent battle, one I had seen countless times before. My mother had always been the quieter of the two, but her strength lay in her ability to challenge my father without ever raising her voice.
My father sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Fine,” he said, though the word was laced with frustration.
“We’ll stop for tonight. But tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow, she’ll do better,” my mother finished for him, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
He grunted in response, turning and striding toward the forest without another word.
When he was gone, my mother approached me, her presence a balm against the raw edges of my frustration. She knelt beside me, her hands gentle as she brushed dirt from my arms.
“You did well,” she said softly.
I shook my head.
“Not well enough.”
Her eyes, so much like mine, searched my face.
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“Your father doesn’t expect perfection, Elara,” she said.
“He just doesn’t know how to ask for anything else.”
I frowned, the weight of her words settling over me.
“He thinks I’ll fail.”
“No,” she said firmly.
“He fears you’ll fail. And fear is a dangerous thing for an Alpha to carry. It makes him push too hard, demand too much.”
“Then why doesn’t he trust me?” I asked, my voice trembling with the question I had never dared to ask him directly.
My mother’s smile was sad.
“He does trust you. He just doesn’t know how to show it. But you’ll lead differently, Elara. You’ll lead with strength, yes, but also with heart. That’s what will set you apart.”
Her words stayed with me as we walked back toward the compound, the night settling in around us. I didn’t answer, unsure if I believed her. My father’s lessons were harsh, his expectations relentless, and they weighed on me like a stone. Yet, beneath the doubt and frustration, there was a spark—a quiet resolve.
As the moon rose higher above the trees, casting its pale light across the clearing, that resolve began to take shape. My father had taught me strength, had pushed me to my limits, but it was my heart that would ultimately define me as Alpha.
My father had pushed me to my limits because he believed that was the only way to prepare me for the role I was destined to inherit. But my mother had taught me something equally important: the strength to lead with compassion.
Someday, I would lead Talon Pack. And when that day came, I would prove to him—and to myself—that strength and heart could coexist.
POV: Silas
The morning sun cast long shadows over the Talon Pack compound, illuminating the familiar faces I had come to know over decades of service. But the light did little to ease the growing tension that clung to the pack like a storm waiting to break. Each wolf moved with purpose, heads bowed slightly, their eyes avoiding one another’s too often for comfort.
I stood near the edge of the training grounds, arms crossed, watching Elara. She was speaking to Lyle, the eager young wolf who had begun stepping up in patrols, and I couldn’t help but notice the strain in her posture. Her words were calm, steady, but her shoulders carried a tension she was trying desperately to hide. It was a burden all Alphas bore—this endless balancing act of strength and vulnerability. But Elara’s burden was different. Heavier.
