The Truth
Serafine POV
Xander walks toward me, and his expression is unreadable, but his strides are purposeful, as if he already expects me to follow him. There’s an immense difference between him right now, it’s like seeing an entirely different person.
He’s not wearing the thick, long leather coat; instead, he’s dressed nicely and smartly. Still under the sun, he looks far less like the rogue monster people whisper about in the packs and more like somethingentirely different, controlled, powerful, but also untouchable.
I force my legs to move as he walks, and I try to keep a careful distance from him as we walk
“You’re staying the pack house,” he explains, his voice is steady and matter–of–fact. “That’s where I also sleep, along with a few betas and some of the house staff. Only those with higher positions or assigned roles live there and can enter without permission.”
The pack house, he didn’t say rogues den. This isn’t an abandoned fortress on the outskirts of civilization. It’s a functioning home for those closest to him. That means he has a pack.
As we walk, I notice how the land stretches out before me. It’s vast and sprawling, unlike anything I expected. The pack house itself had been large, but I assumed that was all that was here. I was wrong.
Beyond the main pack house, homes line the land in perfect order, real homes with gardens and smoke rising from the chimneys. I can see people moving around casually like this is life. There are no signs of desperation or crumbling buildings. There’s also no scent of rot or unclean bodies, which is found in many packs due to limitations of money and space. Sure, rogue hideouts apparently smell the worse, but many packs also have that stench of death.
This isn’t a pack, though. Well, it is, but it’s more like a full city, a world.
Xander continues to speak, his pace unwavering as I try to take in my surroundings. “Most of my people live with their families. The houses belong to them, passed down through generations or built from new blood. This isn’t like your father s pack; I don’t force them all to live in the pack house or small broken huts outside.
His tone is neutral, but there’s an edge to it, a pointed dig at my father’s way of ruling. It’s something I barely register or let settle in my chest because I’m too caught up in the sheet size of everything. There are more homes stretching beyond my line of sight and far more people than I can count. So this, I know without a doubt, is not a rogue settlement.
He also said the houses were passed down through the generations. Which means this place has been here for decades.” This isn’t what I thought,” I whisper, stopping the words.
Xander looks at me. His eyes are sharp and calculating. “Then what did you think you would see when you got here?”
I hesitate slightly, but there’s no point in lying. He thinks I do anyway, so I may as well tell the truth: “That you were a rogue. That you and a handful of exiles were hiding somewhere, in some ruined outpost, and trying to survive on scraps.”
There’s a slow smirk that pulls at the corners of his lips. “I never said I was starving.”
I bite against the inside of my cheek, glancing around again. This place is more than just a pack; it’s self–sufficient and has been here for centuries.
“The land provides everything that we need,” Xander continues and motions toward the open fields that lie beyond the houses. “We grow our food, raise our livestock. We trade with outside merchants as well if necessary. We don’t rely on other packs, however, and we don’t bow to councils.”
The way he says it is with pride, but there’s something deeper beneath those words. Something I don’t quite understand.
I hear a commotion up ahead, and before I can ask another question, a man jogs towards us. He’s younger than Xander but older than me. He’s maybe in his late twenties, and his face is flushed from exertion.
“Alpha Xander,” he says as he tries to breathe. His head drops in a sign of respect before he speaks again. The new calf was just born. It’s healthy and strong.”
Nodding, Xander smiles. “Good. Make sure that everything is properly recorded. If there are any issues, please let me know”
The man nods and hurries off in the direction he came from. I am left standing here trying to piece together everything.
I know that I keep saying it, but he’s not a rogue. He’s not a savage running with exiles, stealing from packs to survive. He’s an alpha and a ruler. I’ve no idea why the hell he would want the world to believe he was one of them. What does he possibly stand to gain from that?
Successfully unlocked!
.se maybe I shouldn’t have.
“Why do you pretend to be something that you early not? Xander doesn’t look at me instantly. He keeps walking with his hands in his pocket, his expression unreadable. I hesitate for a second before following and keeping pace beside him.
He’s ignoring my question, and I can’t blame him. I shouldn’t have asked; it has nothing to do with me. So, of course, he’s
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The Truth
going to dismiss the question entirely and pretend I never spoke.
After a moment, he exhales and rolls his shoulders. “There’s something I need to do,” he says with a calm tone but it’s still firm. It’s like that is all the reason needed. “It’s something I can’t possibly accomplish if people know I’m an Alpha. Especially not if they know that I’m the Alpha of this pack.”
His words settle over me; they are heavier than I expected. He’s not just hiding his title, he’s hiding the entire link of him to this place.
I glance around, taking in the stretch of land, the homes, and the people who clear belong to him. His pack. He’s not some rogue alpha wandering without territory. He rules here, so why keep it a secret?
“What is it that you’re trying to do?” I ask carefully, watching for any flicker of emotion in his face. I hope there’s a hint of an answer beyond the cryptic one he gave me.
I expect him to ignore me. Or maybe dismiss the question entirely. Instead, he exhales,
Xander finally looks at me, and for a brief moment, I see something in his eyes that I can’t quite place. It’s dark, heavy and purposeful. “That is something that you don’t need to know,” he says simply.
A shiver runs down me, not from fear but something else. Something dangerous because there’s more to him that I won’t ever learn.
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