The Alpha's Dark Solstice Claim

Chapter 13 - Alignment.

Marybeth

The cancellation should have felt like victory. Instead, it felt like a shift in gravity. I wanted to win. I really wanted to win, but Rowan kind of took that from me. Calloway elders gathered that evening in my father’s study, heavy oak doors closed, fire low.

They weren’t congratulating me. They were recalibrating.

“Blackridge intervention was … unexpected,” Elder Whitmore said carefully.

“He didn’t do it for Calloway,” my father replied.

“No,” I said quietly. “He didn’t.” That was the part no one quite knew how to categorize. Rowan hadn’t acted as Alpha of Blackridge. He had acted as a father. And something else. It was completely out of character for him.

“You understand what this signals,” my father said, studying me.

“Yes.” I sighed.

“It binds the packs closer,” he continued, as if I didn’t answer. “And destabilizes them simultaneously.” Because Rowan had chosen. Not publicly against Seraphina. But publicly against her authority.

And that fracture would echo. I dismissed the elders shortly after, claiming exhaustion. I wasn’t tired. I was charged. His words in the lobby replayed with relentless clarity. “I won’t let them touch either of you.” Not calculated. Not rehearsed. Instinct. And that was far more dangerous than strategy.

He came to Calloway territory at dusk. No security escort. No official notice. Just Rowan, walking up the gravel path toward my father’s house like the line between our families didn’t exist. My pulse betrayed me before I could discipline it. I stepped outside before he could knock.

“We should clarify procedural fallout,” he said evenly. Of course. Always an excuse.

“Clarify,” I echoed. The air between us felt thinner than usual. Charged. Like a storm that hadn’t decided whether to break.

“You should have told me,” he said quietly. “I would have stopped it sooner.”

“I know,” I said. That admission cost me more than it should have. His eyes searched my face, and for a moment neither of us spoke. The silence wasn’t hostile. It was loaded.

“You didn’t trust me,” he said.

“I needed to know whether you would choose,” I answered.

“You think this is a test.” His voice lowered.

“It is.” I nodded.

“What for?” he asked.

“For whether you’re still divided.” That hit. He stepped closer without thinking. Not aggressive. Just drawn.

“You don’t get to position yourself as my adversary every time you’re afraid,” he said.

“I’m not afraid,” I stood my ground.

“That’s not what I meant.” He was close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating from him despite the cold. Close enough that my body remembered something my pride tried to suppress. Seven years hadn’t dulled it. If anything, the restraint had made it sharper.

“You think I didn’t see what she was doing?” he asked.

“I think you didn’t want to,” I said. His hand lifted instinctively … then stopped inches from my wrist. Control. Always control.

“You underestimate how much I’ve watched you,” he said quietly. The words landed low.

“Watched me?” I asked.

“You came back stronger,” he continued. “You didn’t ask for protection. You built it.”

“And you?” I asked.

“I buried something I shouldn’t have.” His honesty startled me. The space between us shifted.

“Rowan …” I sighed.

“I loved you,” he said. The world stilled. He didn’t look away. “Then,” he added. “And now.” My breath faltered despite every effort to stay composed.

“You don’t get to say that lightly,” I whispered.

“I’m not saying it lightly.” The confession wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t desperate. It was controlled. And that made it worse. I wanted him to lose control like he did that night.

“You chose your bond,” My breath caught in the back of my throat.

“Yes.” His voice was thick with hunger, but only for a second.

“You told me to forget.” I tried to stay out of the fog he was creating around me.

“I was protecting you.” He didn’t move.

“You were protecting yourself,” I shot back. He didn’t deny it. Instead, he stepped closer again, closing the final inches.

“Do you know what it cost to walk away from you that night?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No.” I swallowed.

“Everything,” he said. The word vibrated between us. My body betrayed me first … heat climbing, pulse racing, memory flaring. I remembered his hands. The way restraint had frayed only when I touched him.

He noticed. Of course, he did. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth. I didn’t step back. That was the problem.

“I should leave,” he murmured.

“Yes,” I agreed. Neither of us moved. The air felt too heavy to breathe.

“I won’t choose wrong again,” he said quietly.

“And what does that mean?” I asked.

“It means I won’t let duty erase what matters.” My wolf stirred at that. Dangerous. Because what mattered wasn’t just Eli. It was us. His hand finally made contact. Fingers brushing my waist. Light. Questioning. Waiting for refusal.

I should have pushed him away. I didn’t. The contact was subtle. But it ignited everything. My breath hitched before I could control it. His thumb pressed slightly into the fabric at my hip, anchoring, not claiming.

“If you tell me to stop,” he said softly, “I will.” That was the difference. Seven years ago, he had chosen for both of us. Now he was asking. I looked up at him. And for one reckless second, I almost closed the distance.

Almost let memory become present. Almost let pride dissolve. Instead, I placed my hand against his chest. Not to push him away. To feel him. His heart was steady. But faster than usual.

“You don’t get to touch me like this unless you’re sure,” I said quietly.

“I am sure,” he replied.

“About me?” I asked.

“About you,” he said. “About him. About what I should have done.” The confession felt like a crack in the foundation of everything. Footsteps sounded faintly from inside the house. Reality returned like cold water.

I stepped back first. Not because I wanted to. Because I had to.

“This isn’t finished,” I said.

“No,” he agreed. His eyes darkened slightly.

“Be careful,” he added.

“Of what?” I asked.

“Of how much I still want you.” The honesty struck like a match. I watched him walk down the gravel path without looking back. And for the first time since I returned to Alder Ridge, I felt something shift that wasn’t political.

It was personal. Because Rowan Blackridge had chosen to stand beside me. And next time … I wasn’t sure I’d be strong enough to step away. I stood there longer than I should have. The gravel had stopped crunching beneath Rowan’s boots, but I could still feel where his hand had rested against my waist. The imprint lingered like heat trapped under skin.

“Enjoying the view?” My father’s voice cut cleanly through the dusk. I didn’t startle. I didn’t flinch. But I did inhale sharply before turning. He stood on the porch, arms folded, expression unreadable in the fading light.

“He didn’t schedule a meeting,” my father said evenly. “He didn’t request clearance.”

“No,” I replied.

“He walked directly onto Calloway territory.” My father looked displeased.

“Yes.” I rolled my eyes.

“And you met him alone.” He frowned. “Under the current circumstances.”

“I did.” I held his gaze. A long silence followed. Not anger. Assessment.

“Do you understand how that looks?” he asked.

“Yes.” I sighed.

“Do you?” he pressed. I exhaled slowly.

“It looks like instability,” I admitted.

“It looks like vulnerability,” he corrected.

“I am not vulnerable.” I stiffened slightly.

“You’re human,” he replied quietly. “Which is far more dangerous.” That landed. I was alpha, and I was wolf, but I was also human. He descended the porch steps slowly, not rushing, not crowding me. He didn’t need to.

“The Blackridge Alpha appearing unannounced,” he continued, “after publicly intervening in your favour …”

“In Eli’s favour,” I corrected.

“Politics does not separate the two,” he said. I knew that. I had always known that. “That building was under his jurisdiction,” my father added. “He corrected overreach within his own structure. That is strategic.”

“He didn’t do it strategically,” I said before I could stop myself.

“No?” My father’s eyes sharpened.

“No.” I shook my head.

“And what did he do it like?” he asked quietly. The answer sat heavy in my chest.

“As a father,” I admitted. My father studied me carefully.

“And what else?” He watched me. Silence. Too long. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured. Heat rose under my skin … not from embarrassment, but from the accuracy of his perception. “You cannot allow personal history to blur territorial lines,” he said.

“I didn’t invite him,” I replied.

“You didn’t send him away either.” That was true. And we both knew it. “He came without guards,” my father continued. “Without formal notice. That was not Alpha behaviour.”

“No,” I said softly.

“It was a man.” The word hung in the air between us. A man. Not a rival leader. Not a strategist. A man. “And you are not sixteen anymore,” my father added. “You cannot afford to be distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” I said.

“You’re affected.” The distinction irritated me.

“I can separate personal from political,” I insisted.

“Can you?” he asked quietly. Because I had let Rowan stand too close. I had let his hand remain at my waist. I had almost … No.

“I will not compromise Calloway,” I said firmly.

“I don’t doubt that,” my father replied. That surprised me. “You’re strong enough to lead,” he continued. “But strength without control becomes spectacle.” I met his gaze evenly.

“I didn’t kiss him.” I sighed. His eyebrow lifted slightly.

“That’s not what I said.” But the fact that I felt compelled to say it told him everything. “Is he going to dissolve his bond,” my father asked carefully.

“He hasn’t announced that.” I shrugged. Honestly, I didn’t even know.

“He will.” The certainty in his tone unsettled me. “You think this is romantic,” he continued. “It isn’t. It’s structural upheaval.”

“I’m aware,” I said.

“Are you?” he pressed. “Because if Blackridge fractures internally, rival packs will test both of us.” That truth settled hard. “Rowan stepping onto this property tonight,” my father said quietly, “signals alignment.”

“And that’s bad?” I asked.

“It’s dangerous.” My father sighed.

“Because you don’t trust him?” I frowned.

“Because I do,” he corrected. That surprised me. “I trust that he will choose what he believes is right,” my father continued. “The problem is that what he believes is right now includes you.” The weight of that settled deep.

“You are Calloway Alpha,” he said firmly. “Not a girl waiting by a fire pit.”

“I know.” I shrugged.

“Then act like it.” The reprimand wasn’t cruel. It was necessary. I straightened instinctively.

“I won’t let this weaken us,” I said. My father studied me one last time, then nodded.

“See that you don’t.” He turned back toward the house. I remained where I was, staring into the darkness Rowan had disappeared into. My father was right. This wasn’t a private affair. There was a visible shift in pack alignment.

Rowan stepping onto Calloway territory without formal arrangement would ripple through both sides by morning. It would be analyzed. Measured. Speculated on. And if we weren’t careful … Weaponized.

But even knowing that … Even understanding the cost … My body still remembered the weight of his hand. And my heart still beat faster than it should have. I was Calloway Alpha. I would not be reckless. But for the first time in seven years … I didn’t want to pretend I felt nothing.