The Snow Wolf's Mate

Unwanted Pull:

[POV: Hayden]

She was doing everything right.

That’s what made it worse.

Aria followed orders without hesitation. She worked twice as hard as the others, never complained, never talked back. Every report Piper brought me said the same thing—she was focused, obedient, polite. Clean.

But I didn’t believe it. Not completely.

You don’t survive as a rogue with grace and discipline. You don’t move like a soldier, speak like a daughter of nobility, and call yourself nothing unless you’re hiding something.

And she was. I could feel it. Sirius could feel it.

I watched her again this morning—barely visible from the cliff’s edge where I stood, but close enough to see how she moved through camp. She took a bucket from one of the younger wolves with a gentle nod. She helped repair a broken section of the fencing. She paused to speak to Theo, who threw her one of his cocky grins.

She smiled back. And something in my chest tightened.

Not jealousy. No.

Interest. Too much interest.

It had been years since that particular ache stirred in me—so long I’d almost forgotten the shape of it. And yet… with Aria, it kept returning. Always sharper. Always more dangerous.

I turned from the overlook, jaw clenched, and headed for the council hall. The last thing I needed today was distraction.

Unfortunately, the council had other plans.

The meeting was routine—border reports, training updates, discussion of upcoming supply runs. My mind wandered as the elders spoke, voices droning over issues I already had answers for. I nodded. Replied. Directed. Dismissed.

But then, as always, someone brought it up.

The Luna.

“I say this with respect, Alpha,” said Elder Garron, his tone careful, “but the matter of succession cannot be ignored much longer. The pack looks to its leadership not only for strength, but for legacy. Unity.”

The others murmured in agreement. I said nothing. I didn’t need to. The tension in my jaw spoke for me.

“We understand,” another elder added quickly, “the loss you suffered. And no one doubts your strength or commitment. But… time is passing. And with it, the certainty our pack depends on.”

I stared at the carved wood of the council table.

Annabeth.

Even thinking her name felt like reopening a wound.

Her death hadn’t just taken love from me. It had taken faith—in the Moon Goddess, in destiny, in the very bones of this world. I had felt her die through the bond. Had felt the moment it snapped, like a scream inside my soul.

There was no coming back from that. Not for me.

When the murmurs died down and the silence thickened, I finally spoke.

“If that’s all, this meeting is adjourned.”

They stood. Bows were exchanged. Quiet glances passed between them as they filed out. But one lingered.

Elder Axel, the oldest among them—brittle and worn, but still sharper than most wolves half his age.

He didn’t speak until the room was empty. Then he stepped forward.

“I served under three Alphas before you,” he said. “I’ve seen peaceful reigns and blood-soaked ones. And I’ve seen what happens to a pack when their Alpha stands alone for too long.”

I didn’t answer. He didn’t expect me to.

“I was there when you lost her,” he added quietly. “I remember the night. The snow. The silence that followed.”

I stiffened. His eyes met mine. Steady. Knowing. But never cruel.

“In difficult times, a Luna isn’t always chosen through fate,” he continued. “Sometimes she’s chosen through necessity. The strongest. The wisest. The one who can carry the weight beside you.”

I looked away.

“She doesn’t need to be a second love,” he said. “She only needs to be the right partner. For them. For this pack.”

I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Because everything he said was right. And it still felt wrong.

“You have a duty, Hayden,” Axel said finally, his voice low. “To the wolves who trust you. You lead them with strength—but they need more than that. They need a future. Balance. They need to believe there’s still hope.”

He left me with those words. Nothing more. The doors closed behind him. And I stood there, unmoving, as the silence returned.

But it wasn’t empty anymore. It was filled with her face. Not Annabeth’s.

Aria’s.

The defiant glare she’d given me when I pushed too hard. The way she stood her ground. The way her scent lingered like something wild and forbidden.

Sirius stirred, restless beneath my skin. “She could be more.”

I growled under my breath, dragging a hand through my hair.

She was a mystery I hadn’t solved. A presence I couldn’t ignore. And the pull between us—unwanted, unsettling—was growing stronger.

I didn’t want a Luna. I didn’t want another bond. But I did want answers.

And the closer I got to Aria, the more I realized… She might be the one holding all of them.