My senses are heightened, every sound and scent amplified as I patrol the borders of my pack's territory.

I scan for any signs of intruders. The moonlight filters through the dense canopy. My ears twitch, my muscles coiled and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

The weight of my responsibility as the Alpha of the Nightshade pack settles heavily on my shoulders. I am the protector, the enforcer of our laws, and the guardian of our secrets. It’s a role I was born into, a legacy passed down through generations. 

I pause, inhaling deeply, my nostrils flaring as I search for any unfamiliar scents. The subtle shifts in the wind, the faint rustle of underbrush—all of it registers in my mind, a constant stream of information.

My gaze sweeps over the landscape, my eyes narrowing as I spot a broken branch. I crouch down, my fingers brushing against the ground, feeling the earth beneath my touch. The scent of pine and damp fills my nostrils, mingling with the faint traces of something else.

Someone else.

I rise to my feet, muscles tensing as I follow the trail. My ears pick up the distant sound of running water, the babbling brook that marks the edge of our territory.

I approach the border with caution, thinking of the threats that loom over us. The rival Blackwood pack, always seeking to encroach on our territory. The vampire coven, lurking in the shadows, their thirst for power and blood a constant danger. And the humans, oblivious to our existence, yet capable of causing untold destruction if they were to discover our secrets.

And the biggest one of all. The curse that follows my family.

I push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. My duty is to protect my pack, to ensure their safety and security. Deal with the present threats, not hypothetical ones.

I reach the edge of our territory, the brook gurgling softly as it winds its way through the forest. I pause, my eyes scanning the opposite bank, my ears straining. The forest is still, the only sound the gentle flow of water and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures.

The scent is faint, but it's there. A hint of something foreign, something that doesn't belong. 

The forest opens up to a secluded clearing surrounded by dense foliage, and the hypnotic sound of the water helps me escape my thoughts.

I step closer, the mist from the waterfall cooling my skin. The water cascades down moss-covered rocks, creating a soothing, rhythmic sound. My thoughts drift to my father, to the memory of witnessing the curse's effects on him. The pain, the madness, the loss of control. It's a memory that haunts me.

I turn away from the waterfall. 

The Nightshade curse, my father called it. A blight on our bloodline, a legacy of pain and suffering that I cannot escape.

He warned me about it when I was just a boy. "It's our burden to bear," he said. "A darkness that will follow us until the end of our days. You must be strong, Kalen. You must protect those you love, even if it means pushing them away."

His words rang with pain, and I understand it now better than I did as a child.

If he’d pushed my mother away sooner, perhaps she’d still be alive.

I think of the relationships I've lost because of it. The lovers I've pushed away. All because of the fear that the curse will claim them, that they will suffer because of me.

Elara’s face comes to mind, unbidden. She was a fierce warrior, a member of my pack, and I thought I could keep her safe. 

But the curse had other plans.

I never hurt her. But I felt it, the rage, the aggression, and I know it was spilling into our interactions. Destroying our love.

It was only a matter of time.

I remember the look on her face when I told her it was over. The confusion, the hurt. She didn't understand, and I couldn't explain. I couldn't tell her about the curse, about the darkness that follows me wherever I go. So I let her believe I had grown tired of her, that I no longer cared for her.

I am the Alpha of the Nightshade pack, a position of power and authority. But it’s also a position of isolation. I can’t afford to let anyone get too close, to let them see the darkness that lurks within me. And I especially can never take a mate.

That’s when the curse manifests.

I reach the end of my patrol, the edge of our territory. I take a deep breath, my senses expanding outward, searching for any signs of danger. The forest is still. Even the unfamiliar scent has vanished.

But I can’t shake the feeling that something is out of place.

A second look reveals nothing. I turn back, my mind already shifting to the next task at hand. My pack awaits me, my fellow wolves who look to me for guidance and protection. They fear me, they respect me. And that is how it should be.

But I can't help but feel a pang of longing. A desire for something more, something deeper. A connection that goes beyond the superficial power dynamics of my pack. A bond that transcends the curse, that defies the darkness.

I make my way back to the heart of our territory, the central lodge where my pack gathers. The grand, rustic structure stands as a testament to our heritage, adorned with symbols of wolves and the moon.

Raised voices reach me as I approach. My senses sharpen, and I quicken my pace. The sound comes from the training grounds. I step into the clearing beside the lodge and see two of my pack members, Jaxon and Rylan, facing off. Their muscles are tense, their eyes locked in a heated stare.

"Enough," I say, my voice cutting like a blade.

Both men freeze, their heads snapping my direction. Jaxon is the first to lower his gaze, his shoulders slumping in submission. Rylan follows suit, his defiance melting away under my scrutiny.

"Alpha," Jaxon says, his voice trembling. "We were just—"

"I said enough," I repeat, my tone leaving no room for argument.

They fall silent, their bodies rigid with tension. I take a step closer, my eyes sweeping over them. Jaxon is a skilled fighter, his strength and agility unmatched by most in the pack. But he has a temper, a tendency to let his emotions cloud his judgment. Rylan is younger, less experienced, but he's eager to prove himself. His loyalty is unwavering, but his impulsiveness can be a liability.

"What happened here?" I ask, my gaze shifting between them.

Jaxon opens his mouth to speak, but it's Rylan who answers. 

"We were sparring, Alpha. I got the upper hand, and Jaxon didn't take it well."

Jaxon's jaw tightens, his fists clenching at his sides. He's always been competitive, always striving to be the best. But his pride can be his downfall.

"Is that true, Jaxon?" I ask, keeping my voice calm.

Jaxon hesitates, his eyes flicking to Rylan before returning to me. "Yes, Alpha," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, my mind already working through the implications. A divided pack is a weak pack, and I can’t afford to let personal grievances fester. I need them united, focused on our common goals.

"Rylan, you did well to hold your ground," I say, my gaze shifting to the younger man. "But you must learn to control your impulses. A true warrior knows when to strike and when to hold back."

Rylan nods. "Yes, Alpha. I understand."

"And Jaxon," I say, turning my attention back to him. "Your strength is an asset, but your pride is a weakness. You must learn to temper it, to channel it into something productive."

Jaxon swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Yes, Alpha. I will."

I take a step back, my eyes sweeping over the rest of the pack. They've gathered around us, their faces a mix of curiosity and apprehension. 

"Training is over for the night," I say, my voice carrying across the clearing. "Rest and recover. We have much to do in the coming days."

They disperse, their murmurs filling the air as they retreat to their quarters. But as I turn to leave, I catch sight of the moon, its pale light casting a soft glow over the forest.

I pause, my gaze lingering on the celestial body. The moon has always held a special significance for our kind, a symbol of our connection to the natural world. But for me, it also reminds me of another night, long ago, when I was just a boy. I close my eyes, and the memory washes over me, vivid and haunting.

I was eight years old, hiding behind a tree, my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear my father's voice, his words slurred and angry. 

I peeked around the tree, my breath catching in my throat. My father was a towering figure, his muscles bulging, veins popping out of his skin. His eyes were wild, filled with an uncontrollable rage. 

I wanted to run, to hide, but I couldn't move. I was frozen, my small frame pressed against the rough bark of the tree. I could feel the cold night air on my skin, the dampness of the forest floor beneath my feet. But all I could focus on was my father and the terror that gripped me.

"Kalen," he said, his voice a guttural growl. "Kalen, where are you?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. I was too scared. I watched as he stumbled forward, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He was losing control, the curse taking over.

And then he saw me. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of recognition in his gaze. A flicker of the man he used to be, before the curse consumed him.

"Kalen," he said again, his voice softer this time. "My son. You must be strong. You must protect our family. Protect our pack."

I wanted to reach out to him, to tell him I would. But before I could move, the rage returned, and he let out a roar, his body convulsing. He turned away from me, his fists pounding the ground, his screams echoing through the forest.

I flinched, tears streaming down my face. I was helpless, powerless. I could do nothing to save him, nothing to stop the curse.

The memory fades, and I open my eyes, my heart heavy. I shake off the lingering emotions, my resolve hardening. I will not let the curse define me. I will not let it destroy me, as it did my father. 

He vanished that night. Turned into a monster and disappeared.

I turn away from the moon, my jaw set.

"Alpha!"

The voice startles me, and I turn to see one of my pack members running toward me, his face pale with fear. My senses go on high alert, my instincts kicking in.

"What is it?" I say.

"There's been a sighting," he says, his words tumbling out in a rush. "The rogue wolf, near our borders.” 

The rogue wolf. We’ve been trying to catch it. 

“We think it’s a Blackwood,” he adds.

My eyes narrow as I think of our rival pack. The feud between us grows hotter every day. If we can link the killings to the Blackwood pack, we’ll have a reason to challenge their alpha. To displace him.

“Was there another death?” I ask, my heart rate increasing.

I don’t wait for his response. I drop to all fours as my wolf emerges, and I take off for the border.