The Golden Alpha
The sun spilled gold across the cliffs, casting a quiet fire over the training field.
From her post on the medical veranda, Aria Hartfield watched as the wolves assembled—warriors of every rank, blades strapped across backs, boots crunching against stone. The air pulsed with the scent of sweat, steel, and dominance. Sharp commands rang through the crisp morning as drills began, but something deeper hummed beneath it all.
Xander Stone stood at the center of it.
He didn’t need to shout. His posture alone commanded obedience—shoulders squared, arms folded, gaze steady. The field bowed to him without a word. Even the wind seemed to shift around his form.
Aria knew she should look away.
But she couldn’t.
The boy she’d once loved from afar was now the man she lived with—wordlessly, distantly. Under the open sky, he looked untouchable. Still golden. Still not hers.
“Alpha looks sharp today,” someone whispered behind her.
She didn’t turn.
“Wonder who’s warming his bed these days.”
A quiet snicker followed.
“They say he’s got a secret lover,” came a saccharine voice. “Some mystery girl. Shows up after the coronation. Quiet. Invisible. Must be hiding for a reason.”
“Not one of us,” another added. “No Luna worth the title stays in the dark.”
“She won’t last,” someone scoffed.
Aria closed her eyes.
Their laughter was weightless and cruel.
For a second, she let herself imagine stepping forward, into the light. Owning her place. Daring them to look her in the eye.
Instead, she watched the field.
And said nothing.
Xander’s voice cracked like thunder.
“Again.”
The wolves obeyed. Feet pounded stone. Blades slashed the air. Muscles coiled and burned in discipline. One soldier stumbled.
“Hold your ground, Kade,” Xander barked.
The boy snapped into form, jaw clenched.
Aria stood at the sidelines, arms folded, med kit nearby. Technically on duty. Practically? Holding her breath.
He hadn’t looked at her. Not this morning. Not last night. Not since asking her to move in.
Still, her gaze found him. Always.
And she hated that it did.
She hated that she could memorize the shadows under his collarbone but not remember the last time he said her name in daylight.
She was fifteen when a note passed to her desk asked: Are you in love with Xander?
She’d gone red. Torn it in half. The laughter lasted days.
“As if the Alpha would look at her,” someone had said.
She’d stopped saying his name out loud.
Now, she only whispered it in the dark.
The whistle blew.
Water breaks began. Warriors loosened their shoulders, joked between breaths. Aria restocked bandages.
Then it came.
“Better get used to bruises, Healer.”
Nina.
Flawless. Vicious. Always watching.
Aria turned slowly.
Nina stood near the ring, smirking. “Isn’t that your job? Patching the Alpha up after his long nights?”
Snickers followed.
Aria said nothing.
She knelt beside a limping trainee, hands calm, voice steady. The whispers kept coming, curling like smoke. Judging. Doubting.
She didn’t lift her head.
But she felt every glance.
Then Xander stepped into view.
Not with a purpose. Not to interrupt.
But silence fell.
Nina straightened, a smile painted back on.
Xander didn’t notice.
He looked at Aria.
“Aria.”
Her name. First time today.
She stood slowly, expression unreadable.
“Yes, Alpha?”
Something flickered in his eyes. Uncertainty. Regret?
“Terrain drills. You’ll ride with the rear unit.”
“Understood.”
No questions. No warmth.
He turned. She didn’t watch him go.
They were roles.
He was Alpha. She was a healer.
Not lovers. Not partners.
Just pieces on a board.
She walked past him without hesitation.
Her throat burned.
In combat school, Aria was always picked last.
Not for weakness.
But for being invisible.
She learned to move silently. To dodge faster. To patch herself up.
Now, even among warriors, she was still unseen.
The forest greeted them, damp and quiet. Aria worked fast, mending scrapes, wrapping twisted joints. Her shoulder throbbed. Her legs ached.
When the drills ended, the others dispersed.
Xander came back.
This time, it was just them.
“You okay?” he asked.
She didn’t look up at first. Finished wrapping a wrist.
Then stood.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
His brows knit.
She stared at him.
“Ignore them,” he said.
She laughed. Bitter.
“Easy for the Golden Alpha to say.”
His jaw tightened. “What does that mean?”
“It means your silence is louder than anything they say.”
He opened his mouth. Nothing came.
She didn’t wait.
“For weeks, you let them treat me like a rumor. You never say my name. You never look at me. You asked me to stay, but you treat me like I’m not there.”
He looked pained.
She didn’t care.
“I am not your shame.”
She walked away.
Back at the house, dusk hung low.
Aria showered in silence. Ate alone. Her hands trembled as she folded towels.
On the bed, she sat without expression.
When Xander entered, he didn’t speak.
He undressed. Slipped into bed. Breathe shallow.
Then, softly, his fingers brushed hers.
A quiet plea.
She didn’t pull away.
But she didn’t hold on.
In the dark, her voice finally broke through.
“I am not your secret.”
And somewhere beyond the cliffs, thunder rolled.
Not sharp. Not violent.
But steady.
And this time, Aria knew—
The storm was listening.
