Marked By The Enemy Pack

CHAPTER 5

The first time Adam says my name, it isn’t loud or dramatic, and that somehow makes it worse.

“Sasha,” he says from the doorway, his voice pitched low enough that it doesn’t carry down the corridor, and the sound of it slides straight under my skin like it belongs there, like my name has been waiting to be spoken in his mouth.

I’m sitting at the small table near the window, picking at a plate of food I don’t want but know I should eat, and I don’t look up right away because I need a second to steady myself. Hearing my name from him changes something, sharpens the bond in a way that feels uncomfortably intimate, and my wolf reacts instantly, pressing closer, alert and aware in a way she hasn’t been with anyone else here.

“Alpha,” I reply instead, because titles are armor and I need it right now.

He steps fully into the room and closes the door behind him, not sealing us off completely but enough to create a sense of privacy that feels deliberate. He’s already shed the edge of authority he wears in the halls, though the weight of it still clings to him in the way he stands and the way his gaze tracks everything at once, and he doesn’t sit, choosing to remain on his feet as if grounding himself that way.

“You don’t have to use the title in here,” he says. “Not when we’re alone.”

“I do,” I answer, finally meeting his eyes, because the bond hums at the suggestion and I don’t trust it not to blur lines if I let it. “Clarity matters.”

His jaw tightens, but he nods once, accepting the boundary even if he doesn’t like it. “Then clarity is what you’ll get.”

He moves closer to the table, close enough that I can smell him again, forest and smoke and something deeper that curls low in my stomach, and I hate that my body responds before my mind can catch up. The bond hums, not loud but steady, a constant reminder that no amount of distance or titles will erase what’s already been done.

“My council met again,” he says. “Briefly.”

I set my fork down carefully. “And.”

“And they want to send a message to your pack,” he continues. “Formal. Recorded. Witnessed.”

My chest tightens. “A message about what.”

“About you,” he says simply. “About the mark. About custody.”

The word lands like a blow, stealing the air from my lungs even though I should have seen it coming. “I’m not property,” I say, my voice sharper than I intend.

“I know,” Adam replies immediately, and there’s no hesitation in it, no softening either. “But they will treat you like leverage whether you consent to it or not, and pretending otherwise won’t protect you.”

I push back from the table and stand, ignoring the pull in my ribs, because sitting feels too passive for this conversation. “My Alpha won’t accept that,” I say. “He’ll see this as a provocation.”

“He already does,” Adam answers. “Your border patrols doubled before noon.”

That sends a chill through me that has nothing to do with the room. “So this is escalation,” I say. “And I’m the excuse.”

“You’re the catalyst,” he corrects. “The tension was already there.”

I laugh under my breath, the sound brittle. “Funny how it always is.”

Silence stretches between us, thick with everything we aren’t saying, and I become acutely aware of the bond again, of the way it hums differently now, tighter and more insistent, as if it knows we’re circling something dangerous. My wolf presses close, not panicked but focused, and that scares me more than fear would.

“They want to see you,” Adam says finally. “Not just hear from you.”

I look up sharply. “My council.”

“And mine,” he confirms. “Joint presence. Neutral observers.”

“You want to parade me,” I say flatly.

“I want to keep you alive,” he replies, just as flat, and the bluntness of it knocks the argument out of me for a moment.

“I’m not stable enough for politics,” I say, gesturing vaguely at my side. “I can barely stand for an hour.”

“They don’t care,” he says. “And if you don’t show, they’ll assume the worst.”

“Which is,” I prompt.

“That I’m hiding you,” he says. “Or coercing you.”

I study his face, searching for any hint of deception or calculation beyond what he’s already admitted, but all I find is tension and something like restraint, carefully held in check. “Are you,” I ask quietly.

“No,” he answers without hesitation. “But perception will matter more than truth once this moves beyond our walls.”

The bond hums again, a low pulse that carries something unfamiliar, not emotion exactly but alignment, and I have to consciously pull back from it, grounding myself in the feel of the stone floor beneath my feet.

“If I do this,” I say slowly, “I do it on my terms.”

Adam’s gaze sharpens. “Meaning.”

“I speak for myself,” I continue. “No scripted statement. No handlers. No one touching me or standing behind me like I’m a threat that needs to be managed.”

He considers that, his silence weighted and deliberate. “They won’t like it.”

“I don’t care,” I reply. “Neither will my pack.”

“That’s the problem,” he says. “They care very much.”

I step closer without fully meaning to, the distance between us closing until the bond tightens noticeably, and I can feel his attention narrow, focus locking onto me with an intensity that makes my pulse spike. “Then let them,” I say. “I didn’t ask for this, but I won’t be silent inside it.”

For a long moment he doesn’t speak, and the room feels smaller, the air thicker, as if the walls themselves are leaning in to listen. When he finally nods, it’s slow and deliberate, the motion of someone accepting a risk he can’t fully control.

“All right,” he says. “You speak.”

“And you,” I add, holding his gaze, “don’t speak for me.”

His mouth tightens. “I won’t.”

The bond hums approval at that, subtle but unmistakable, and I hate how much that reaction matters to me.

“When,” I ask.

“Tonight,” he answers. “At dusk.”

My stomach drops. “That’s not time,” I say. “That’s a sentence.”

“It’s the only window they agreed on,” he replies. “Before your Alpha decides waiting is pointless.”

As if summoned by his words, a sharp flare of sensation ripples through the bond, sudden and intense enough that I gasp despite myself, my hand flying to my chest as my wolf surges hard and alert inside me.

Adam stiffens instantly. “What is it.”

I don’t answer right away, because the sensation isn’t pain, not exactly, but pressure and awareness and something like proximity, a presence pressing hard against the edges of my senses from a direction I know far too well.

“He’s close,” I say finally, my voice tight. “My Alpha.”

Adam’s eyes darken, his posture shifting as authority snaps fully into place. “How close.”

Before I can answer, a low, resonant sound rolls through the stone beneath our feet, subtle but unmistakable, a vibration that carries with it the weight of power and intent, and the guards outside the door straighten sharply as voices rise in the corridor.

Adam turns toward the door, then back to me, his expression hard and focused. “You’re not ready to face him,” he says.

“I don’t think I get a choice,” I reply, my wolf pressed hard against my skin now, every instinct screaming awareness.

The bond surges, bright and undeniable, and from somewhere beyond the walls, I feel it, the answering pull of another Alpha’s presence slamming into the space between packs like a declaration of war.

The door bursts open before either of us can move, and the force of that arrival hits me like a physical blow, stealing my breath as the room fills with power that is not Adam’s alone.

Everything goes still in the heartbeat that follows, and I understand with chilling clarity that whatever happens next will shatter the fragile containment we’ve been clinging to.

Because my Alpha hasn’t come to negotiate.

He’s come to take me back.