7. THORNE

Chapter 7

THORNE

My paws pound a furious rhythm against the forest floor, the trees blurring into a green and brown kaleidoscope. Frustration, raw and primal, burns through me.

Elowen.

Betrothed.

To another wolf.

My growl deepens, and I howl my anger into the forest air, the sound carrying for miles and miles.

I didn't just find my mate, the woman who ignites my soul and sets my wolf howling—I found someone promised to another.

The possessive growl that erupts from my throat is as much a warning to any creature foolish enough to cross my path as it is an expression of the anger coursing through me.

Kain.

That fucking bastard.

The name sits heavy on my tongue with a bitter taste.

The arrogant wolf who dared to claim Elowen as his own. The memory of our confrontation earlier burns bright—the flash of his golden eyes, the snarl curling his lips.

He may have slunk away with his tail between his legs this time, but the threat hangs heavy in the air. And next time I'll be prepared.

Let him come near my mate again, and I won't hesitate. He'll understand the true meaning of a challenge—the wrath of an Alpha protecting his mate.

The very thought sends a fresh surge of fury through me, propelling me forward with renewed ferocity.

Trees whip past, damp earth, and pine filling my nostrils. I don't care where my paws take me as long as it's away from the suffocating weight of this revelation.

She's mine.

The primal instinct roars in my wolf's voice, a fierce echo of the possessiveness clawing at my human heart.

Then I suddenly skid to a halt, the scent of damp earth strong in my flared nostrils.

My wolf whines deep within me, the anger replaced by a soul-crushing emptiness.

Elowen is my mate.

The bond sings between us, an undeniable truth.

But the harsh reality slams into me like a falling tree.

She's not the fated mate in the prophecy. The hope of saving the world seems to crumble in my grasp.

Every shared moment, every stolen kiss, feels like a betrayal.

I was so caught up in the euphoria of finding my mate that I blinded myself to the truth.

The possessive rage that fueled my run through the forest seems laughable now.

How can I claim her? How can I bind her to a life of danger and darkness when she's not the key to unlocking the light?

My wolf growls, a deep, frustrated rumble in my chest. This connection, this pull towards Elowen- it's real.

The way her laughter fills the air and her scent makes my head spin... it's undeniable. But what good is a mate who can't stand beside me in the coming battle?

Frustration morphs into bitter despair. The weight of the prophecy now feels like a crushing boulder on my chest. But even more agonizing is the thought of letting Elowen go.

The thought of letting her go, of severing this newfound bond, rips at me like a wolf tearing at its own flesh. But the fate of the world rests on my shoulders. The prophecy demands it. I can't allow my personal desires to jeopardize everything.

Letting her go. The words echo in my mind, each one a shard of broken glass piercing my heart.

But what then? What do I do?

I am an Alpha, a leader, and yet I feel utterly helpless. Torn between the duty to my pack, the responsibility of the prophecy, and the possessive ache for my mate.

Frustration gnaws at me like a famished wolf cub. Every step back towards the pack feels like a retreat, a surrender to a cruel fate.

Just the thought of seeing Elowen, of having to explain the impossible situation, sends a fresh wave of despair crashing over me.

I need to leave. The longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave my mate. That is the first step.

The air, heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth, suddenly shifts.

A new scent pricks my senses, one all too familiar—rogue wolves—and not a small pack.

My wolf growls, an instinctive reaction to the territorial threat lurking on the borders of the Ember Pack's territory.

Those fucking bastards.

Without a second thought, I turn back to warn the Ember Pack, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I can't stay here and wallow in self-pity when danger threatens others.

I race back towards familiar territory, the forest floor blurring beneath my pounding paws.

Reaching the edge of the clearing, I changed back and hastily put on my clothes, which were left by a familiar tree.

I'm met with a scene of frantic activity.

Warriors sharpen blades. Healers gather supplies. Fear and determination are etched on every face. Alerted by the commotion, Eamon, the formidable Ember Pack Alpha, emerges from his hut, his face a mask of grim determination.

"Rogues," I announce, wasting no time with pleasantries. "A strong pack, just outside your borders."

His eyes narrow, a flicker of appreciation crossing his kind, weathered face. "Thank you for the warning, Alpha Thorne. Your arrival couldn't be more timely."

The next few hours are a flurry of activity.

Plans are formed, strategies discussed, and a sense of grim camaraderie fills the air.

The Ember Pack may be smaller, but they are fierce, and their loyalty to their leader is absolute.

I immediately offer my assistance.

But before we head out to face the enemy, I find myself drawn towards Elowen.

Just the thought of her name sends a wave of tenderness and longing crashing over me.

Pushing open the door to her room, I find her surrounded by vials and herbs, her brow furrowed in concentration.

But when she looks up, the concern in her eyes melts me from the inside out.

"Thorne," she breathes, relief coloring her voice. "You're here. Are you okay?"

I nod, unable to tear my gaze from her worried face. "There's been a development," I explain about the rogues and the impending battle.

The color drains from her face, but her chin remains stubbornly high.

"Then go," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. "Protect them, protect yourself."

Stepping forward, I reach out, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. "I will," I vow, my voice rough with emotion. Then, impulsively, I lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss.

It's a desperate kiss, filled with the weight of the unknown and the portent of danger.

But there's also a tenderness in it, a fierce possessiveness that defies the impossible situation we are in.

Finally, I pull away, my forehead resting against hers. "I promise," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. "I'll come back to you."

Her eyes are filled with unshed tears as she nods.

With a final, lingering glance, I turn and head out into the gathering dusk.

Steel clashes on steel, the clang echoing through the clearing as the battle rages. We surge forward, a wave of warriors against the snarling mass of rogues.

The scent of blood fills the air, a metallic tang that mingles with the primal musk of wolf, fear, hunger, and determination.

In the chaos, my wolf takes over. He fights with a ferocity born of rage and desperation.

Each blow I land is a scream against the unfairness of it all.

Maybe, I think with a sliver of hope, maybe the prophecy can be defied.

Maybe the pull I feel towards Elowen, the undeniable bond that transcends logic, is enough.

But the battlefield is a harsh teacher.

As I lock eyes with the alpha rogue, his eyes burning with a cold hunger, a devastating truth crashes over me. The rogues fight with savage abandon, fueled by a darkness that chills me to the bone.

This isn't just a territorial dispute; it's a battle for the very soul of this land. And I, without the power prophesied, am fighting with one hand tied behind my back.

Disheartened, I watch as a rogue warrior breaks through our line, heading straight for a young Ember Pack pup who stands frozen in fear.

I react instinctively, shoving the young pup aside and taking the full brunt of the rogue's attack.

Pain explodes in my shoulder, a searing agony that sends me crashing to the ground. But the sight of the young pup scrambling to safety is enough to fuel my rage.

With a roar that echoes through the clearing, I lunge at the rogue, fueled by a desperate need to protect, a need that transcends my own desires.

As the battle reaches its climax, exhaustion gnaws at me, and the weight of the truth settles like lead in my gut.

Elowen, with her kindness and her passion for healing, will never be the weapon this fight demands. She deserves a love story, not a life on the battlefield.

With a heavy heart, I accept the truth. My bond with Elowen may be real, but it's a love story that cannot be.

She may not be the answer, but a part of me will always yearn for the warmth of her touch and the light in her eyes. And for the sake of my people, for the sake of the world, I must push those feelings aside.

The search for the prophesied fated mate is still my mission.