Alpha Studo

A storm raged inside Christina's chest, but she refused to let it drown her.

Lying awake in the stillness of night, she found herself gazing at the wooden beams of their tiny home, her mind a battlefield of simmering emotions, anger, grief, but above all, determination.

The shadows danced in the corners of her room, echoing the turmoil she felt within. Outside, the wind howled, a chilling reflection of the chaos in her heart.

She was tired of feeling helpless. Tired of watching her father fade away, his once-vibrant spirit dimmed by the pack's indifference. The weight of their neglect pressed heavily upon her, as she witnessed the pack moving on with their lives, leaving him in the shadows of their history.

How could they forget? How could they let him degrade into a mere footnote of their past?

But Christina wouldn't let him fade away. She couldn't.

When morning broke, pale light spilled through the cracks in the walls, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the air like lost fragments of hope. Sitting on the edge of her bed, her bare feet pressed against the cold floor, she felt the contrast between the chill beneath her and the warmth of the sun filtering through the window.

Her father was awake, as always, seated by the window, gazing out at the horizon as if searching for something lost to time. But he didn't greet her; he barely acknowledged her presence anymore. His silence echoed in the room, loud and oppressive.

As she watched him, the anger surged inside her again. She hated how small he seemed now, how his fierce spirit had been reduced to a mere shadow of its former glory. And she despised how the rest of the pack continued on, as if he were no longer a part of them.

Swallowing hard, she pushed through the wave of frustration burning in her throat. "I'm going to train today," she declared firmly.

His eyes flickered toward her, a spark of disbelief breaking through his fog of despair. "Training?" he echoed, doubt seeping into his voice.

Christina nodded, determination firm in her stance. "With the warriors."

A bitter smile tugged at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes, which brimmed with a sadness that made her chest ache. "They won't let you."

"I'll watch from the edges, then." She refused to back down. The thought of taking control of her own fate ignited a fierce fire within her.

He didn't argue, but the resignation in his gaze felt like a physical blow. The underlying sadness hung thick between them, a reminder of the weight of unfulfilled expectations and their shared loss.

But she didn't need his permission. All she needed was for him to believe, believe that she wasn't fragile like the world seemed to think.

That night, after yet another silent dinner, Christina settled beside her father. The air was heavy with unspoken words, and the emotions wrapped around her like a shroud. She wanted to reassure him that she wasn't giving up. That she would find a way to change their fate, but the words stuck in her throat.

Instead, she leaned in. "Tell me about the strongest wolves you ever fought beside."

For the first time in what felt like ages, something flickered within him. A spark ignited in his golden eyes, piercing through the haze of despair as if her question had stirred a memory long buried.

"The strongest?" He took a deep breath, nostalgia lacing his tone. "Strength isn't just about muscles, Christina."

Already, she knew this truth, but she let him speak, eager to embrace every word, to weave together the fragments of the man he once was.

He spoke of warriors who had faced impossible odds, of wolves who lost everything yet stood unbroken. Each story was a thread in the fabric of their shared history, woven with courage and resilience.

He told her about a warrior who had been exiled, stripped of his place, but who found a way to return stronger than ever. "True strength comes from within," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. "The world will try to break you. You can't let it."

Christina burned his words into her memory, each syllable a declaration of her resolve. If the pack insisted on defining him as nothing, then she would forge herself into something greater than all of them.

The next morning, she felt her heart race with anticipation as she walked straight to the training grounds. Excitement and trepidation coursed through her veins, but she gripped tightly to her resolve.

The clearing near the river buzzed with energy as warriors trained; their bodies moved like shadows under the sun, each strike deliberate yet fluid, a powerful dance born of discipline and skill. The sounds of exertion filled the air—grunts of weighty effort, the clash of bodies practicing, and the rhythm of their movements created a symphony of strength.

She positioned herself on the far edge, aware that she might be disregarded, but she was resolute in her observation. Dev, the alpha's son, commanded the space effortlessly, executing each maneuver with an air of confidence that Christina longed to emulate. He was the epitome of everything she aspired to be.

Every move he made flooded her with inspiration, and she silently vowed to herself: One day, she would stand where he stood. One day, she would be even stronger.

When she returned home, sore from hours of sitting, her mind buzzed with everything she had absorbed. Each memory of the day's training fanned the flames of her determination further. She was ready to fight not only for her father but to carve out a new future for herself and the man she admired most.