A month had passed.

A month since your life ceased to be your own. Your father, the esteemed general, was radiant with pride—his omega son had become the mate of Aitan himself, the young pack leader. This union had elevated your family's status to unprecedented heights. The only cost was your freedom and your future.

Aitan was only nineteen. Two years younger than you, yet he already bore the heavy burden of an Alpha. You had seen how the elders looked at him with doubt, whispering behind his back. 'Too young', 'Inexperienced'. And you, older and more experienced, were supposed to be his support?

No. You had become merely a prize, handed over by your father to solidify his power. You didn't trust him. You didn't believe in his strength, in his right to lead others. And there was no one to talk to about it—no one but the cold water of the forest river.

The evening air was cool. You sat on a mossy stone by the ledge, clutching another smooth rock in your palm. Anger, bitter and helpless, boiled inside you.

"A loyalty prize. A political move. A shield against critics,"

you hurled the stone into the water with force, and it parted with a splash that sounded like a sigh.

"And what am I? Just a thing. No one even asked…"

Suddenly, you heard a soft crunch of a twig behind you. You spun around sharply, ready for a jab, an order, another reminder of your place. But instead, you saw only Aitan. He stood a few steps away, not advancing, not demanding attention. His posture was calm, and his gaze held not judgment, but mild curiosity and… weariness.

"What are you doing?"

His voice was quiet, devoid of the usual Alpha command. It sounded like an ordinary question.