The Alpha's Cursed Heart

"Damn it, Marcus, how many times do I have to tell you? I am still your Alpha!" Zach's voice thundered through the clearing, his fists clenched, veins bulging in his arms.

Marcus stood his ground, his younger brother's eyes blazing with defiance. "An Alpha who can't shift into his wolf form? Tell me, Zach, how long do you think the pack will keep following you?" His tone was sharp, cutting through the cold night air like a blade.

The pack had gathered around them, silent but watching intently. Their gazes were heavy, filled with doubt and unease. Zach could feel it pressing against him, suffocating him. He hated it. Hated the way his own people looked at him now - with pity, with skepticism.

"I don't need to shift to lead this pack," Zach growled, his voice low but filled with authority. "I've kept us safe, haven't I? I've fought for every single one of you, even with this curse hanging over my damn head!"

"And yet, the curse still binds you," Marcus shot back. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried weight, laced with frustration and something close to pity. "How are we supposed to trust someone to lead us when he can't even free himself? When he can't-"

"Enough!" Zach's roar silenced the murmurs in the crowd. His sharp glare sliced into Marcus, daring him to say another word.

For a moment, there was silence. Nothing but the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of the forest and the subtle unease rippling through the pack.

Finally, Marcus looked away, his jaw clenched. "I just want what's best for the pack," he muttered, almost too low for anyone to hear.

Zach exhaled slowly, trying to rein in his anger. "So do I, Marcus. But I am still Alpha. Don't forget that."

The crowd began to disperse, though the tension lingered like a storm cloud. Zach watched them go, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their doubt.

"You handled that well," came a deep, gravelly voice from behind him.

Zach turned to see Elder Alaric stepping out from the shadows, his presence as commanding as ever. The old wolf carried himself with a quiet authority, his silver hair glinting in the moonlight.

"Yeah, real well," Zach muttered bitterly. "I'm sure they're all brimming with confidence in me now."

Alaric chuckled softly, though his eyes remained serious. "Leadership isn't about making everyone happy, Zach. It's about making the decisions no one else can."

Zach ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. "It's hard to lead when they don't even believe in me. Hell, sometimes I don't even believe in myself anymore."

The elder's gaze softened. "You're stronger than you think. But this curse-" He paused, his voice lowering. "It's more than just a shackle. It's a test. And it's time you started treating it like one."

Zach frowned, his eyes narrowing. "A test? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Alaric didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "The curse wasn't just placed on you, Zach. It was placed on the entire pack. You breaking it isn't just about you-it's about all of us. And if you don't figure out how to do that soon..."

He trailed off, leaving the words hanging in the air.

Zach's jaw tightened. "What aren't you telling me, Alaric?"

The elder hesitated, his expression unreadable. "There are things you're not ready to hear yet. But you will be, soon enough. For now, focus on what you can control. Find the witch."

The tavern smelled of smoke and spilled ale, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the room. Lyorine Josephine sat in the far corner, a hood pulled low over her face. She was nursing a glass of something dark and bitter, her eyes scanning the room with quiet intensity.

She didn't belong here. That much was obvious. The air around her seemed to hum with energy, an invisible barrier that kept everyone else at bay.

But then, she wasn't trying to belong. She was here for a reason.

The door swung open, and immediately, she felt it-a presence, strong and commanding. Her gaze snapped to the newcomer.

Zach Killian.

He was taller than she'd expected, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. His dark eyes swept over the room, landing on her almost instantly. For a moment, their gazes locked.

Then he was moving, striding toward her with the confidence of someone who wasn't used to being told no.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, though his tone made it clear it wasn't really a question.

Lyorine leaned back in her chair, her expression neutral. "Depends. Are you here to talk, or to threaten me like the last wolf who came sniffing around?"

Zach's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "I guess that depends on how cooperative you're planning on being."

She raised an eyebrow. "Bold of you to assume I owe you anything."

"Bold of you to assume I came here asking for favors," Zach countered.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Finally, Lyorine sighed, gesturing to the chair across from her. "Fine. Sit. But make it quick. I don't have time for games."

The moment Zach sat down, the air between them shifted. Lyorine could feel the weight of his presence, the barely-contained power simmering beneath the surface. But there was something else, too-something darker, something broken.

"I need your help," Zach said, cutting straight to the point.

Lyorine snorted. "Of course you do. That's the only reason people ever come looking for witches, isn't it?"

"This isn't just about me," he said, his voice low, urgent. "It's about my pack. My people. They're in danger because of this curse, and you're the only one who can help me break it."

She tilted her head, studying him. "And why would I do that? What's in it for me?"

Zach hesitated, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "Because I think you're part of this. Somehow. The curse... it's tied to your kind. To your past."

Lyorine stiffened, her fingers tightening around her glass. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" Zach leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You don't even remember who you really are, do you? But I think you want to. And I think helping me might be the key to unlocking those memories."

Her breath caught in her throat, but she quickly masked it with a scoff. "That's a pretty convenient story, wolf. But I'm not buying it."

"It's not a story," Zach said, his voice firm. "It's the truth. And whether you believe me or not, we're running out of time. The curse is getting stronger. If we don't break it soon..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

For a long moment, Lyorine said nothing. She simply stared at him, her mind racing. Finally, she sighed. "Fine. I'll help you. But if you're lying to me, Killian, I swear to whatever gods are listening, you'll regret it."

Zach nodded, relief flickering across his face. "Fair enough."

As they left the tavern, the night air was cool and crisp, the moon casting a pale glow over the forest.

"You didn't tell me everything," Lyorine said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Zach glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's more to this curse than you're letting on," she said, her voice sharp. "I'm not stupid, Killian. I know when someone's holding back."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "You're right. There is more. But it's not something I can just tell you. Not yet."

She stopped walking, turning to face him. "If you want my help, you're going to have to trust me. Completely. Otherwise, this isn't going to work."

Zach held her gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. Finally, he nodded. "Alright. I'll tell you everything. But not here. Not now."

Lyorine frowned but didn't press further. Instead, she started walking again, her thoughts a whirlwind of questions and doubts.

As they disappeared into the forest, the shadows seemed to close in around them, the air thick with tension.

And somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled-a lonely, mournful sound that echoed through the night.