The Alpha’s Discipline
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25 The Alpha’s Discipline
Nyra’s POV
The moment I stepped out of the shadows, the world froze.
Alpha Ethan’s voice died in his throat.
My mother’s pleading expression stiffened into something like stone.
Even the morning wind seemed to pause, as if the trees themselves were waiting to see what would happen to the outcast girl who had overheard too much.
I hadn’t meant to make a scene.
But my feet had moved before my mind could stop them, dragged forward by the ache of hearing my life discussed like a punishment that could be adjusted at will.
Alpha Ethan’s guards reacted first.
Two of them charged toward me like I was a threat.
Like I was a criminal.
Like I was something that needed restraining.
Strong hands grabbed my arms and yanked me forward.
My breath punched out of me.
My healing might have been fast, thanks to my mother’s secret light, but my body still remembered pain. It still remembered how easily wolves could break me.
My mother lunged a step forward.
“Ethan, no, please!” she cried.
The sound of her begging, my mother begging, made something raw tear open inside my chest.
But I didn’t say anything.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t plead.
I didn’t fight.
Because fighting would only give them an excuse to hurt me more.
Alpha Ethan didn’t say much either.
He simply turned his gaze on me.
1/7
the Alpha Descipline
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Cold.
Measured.
Unmoved.
Like I was already decided.
“If you ever disrespect me like that again,” he said slowly, voice carrying the weight of law, “I will discipline you.”
The word discipline hit differently when it came from an Alpha.
It didn’t mean a warning.
It meant pain.
It meant correction.
It meant a lesson delivered through bruises.
My throat tightened, but I kept my face blank.
Alpha Ethan’s eyes narrowed slightly, like he wanted to see fear.
I refused to give it to him.
“You resume your duties in the kitchen tomorrow,” he added, as if he hadn’t just peeled my life open and rewritten it. “Early.”
Then he turned away.
Just like that.
No further punishment. No explanation. No acknowledgement of what I’d heard. No mercy either.
He walked down the steps and past his guards like I wasn’t worth another word, and his men released me hard enough that I stumbled.
I caught myself before I fell.
My mother’s hand hovered near my shoulder, wanting to steady me, wanting to comfort me, but she didn’t touch.
Because the guards were watching.
Because the Alpha’s men were still there.
Because in this pack, tenderness was another kind of weakness they could use against you.
Alpha Ethan left the porch.
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His men followed.
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And the space they’d filled with power and threat emptied, leaving only the smell of cold morning and something bitter that sat in my throat.
My mother didn’t speak.
She simply stared out at the path Ethan had taken, jaw clenched, eyes burning with fury that had
nowhere to go.
I looked at her and swallowed.
I could have asked about everything.
About her confession.
About Ethan’s bond to her.
About what it meant.
About why he was doing this.
But I didn’t.
Because I saw it, how her shoulders trembled ever so slightly, how her breath shook once before she
steadied it.
She looked like a woman holding back a flood.
So I pretended.
The way I always did.
I pretended I hadn’t heard anything.
And she pretended she hadn’t almost broken in front of him.
That night, neither of us spoke much.
She made food. I ate a few bites. The cabin felt smaller than it ever had, like secrets were taking up space meant for oxygen.
When I lay down, sleep didn’t come easily.
All I saw was Beverly on the stage.
Kieran beside her.
Alpha Ethan’s voice announcing their future like it was inevitable.
And then I heard Ethan’s words again in my head:
3/7
Alpha Decipline
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I’ve heard reports about her and Kieran sneaking around.
He had known.
He had known all along.
And he had let me love in the dark anyway, like it was entertainment.
When dawn came, it felt like punishment too.
I dressed quietly.
Plain clothes. No colours that might draw attention. Hair tied back tight. Face washed, eyes still swollen.
I didn’t ask my mother to come with me.
She would have, if I asked.
But I didn’t want her standing there with me in the packhouse like she was my guard dog, daring them to
bite.
I wanted, just once, to walk into hell on my own and not crumble.
So I left early.
The packhouse sat far from the outskirts, planted at the heart of Vandwood like a throne. The closer I got, the more the air changed, cleaner, sharper, filled with wolf scent layered over wolf scent.
By the time I reached the main gates, my stomach was tight with dread and my feet were already aching.
A servant’s entrance was around the side.
That was where they directed me, as if I didn’t deserve to walk through the front.
Inside, the kitchens were already alive.
Heat rolled out in waves. Pots clanged. Water hissed. Servants moved quickly like their bodies were trained to obey before their minds could hesitate.
The smell of food filled the air, fresh bread, roasted meat, herbs crushed into broth.
My stomach twisted.
Because I realised I hadn’t eaten properly since the assembly.
A woman in charge, broad-hipped, stern-faced, hair wrapped in a cloth, looked me up and down like she was assessing a tool.
“So,” she said flatly. “The outcast’s girl.”
I lowered my gaze.
4/7
25The Al Is Decipline
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“Yes.”
She snorted. “You’re late.”
“I’m not,” I said, voice steady. “Breakfast is still cooking.”
A few heads turned.
A couple of servants smirked as if they hoped I’d get slapped.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Smart mouth for an omega.”
I swallowed and said nothing.
She pointed toward a corner where servants ate quickly before work.
“Food is for workers,” she said. “You’re part of the cooks now. You eat when we say you eat.”
My stomach dropped.
I forced myself to breathe slowly.
It wasn’t new.
The pack always found ways to remind me I wasn’t like them.
I turned toward the prep tables, pots of chopped vegetables, baskets of flour, knives laid out in neat
lines.
And that was when I felt it.
A presence.
A shift in the air like gravity changing direction.
I looked up without meaning to.
Kieran walked in.
He wasn’t dressed like a kitchen wolf. He was dressed like an heir. Like command. Dark clothing, shoulders squared, expression carved into a mask that didn’t crack easily.
His eyes found me instantly.
For a heartbeat, everything inside me paused.
The bond tugged, quiet, cruel, familiar.
His gaze searched mine like he was trying to speak without speaking.
Nyra.
My throat tightened.
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Dels Alpha Ducipline
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I looked away.
I turned my face back to the table, pretending my hands weren’t shaking.
I took a knife.
I pretended I was focused.
I pretended he was just another wolf walking past.
Footsteps approached.
I felt him come closer.
Felt his scent wash over me, pine and smoke and something that used to mean safety.
I didn’t turn.
I couldn’t.
Because if I turned, my heart might betray me again.
“Nyra,” he said softly.
The sound of my name from his mouth still had power.
It still slid under my ribs like a blade wrapped in velvet.
I didn’t answer.
I stepped away, just one step, like distance could protect me from what he had done.
He followed.
And then, just before he could reach me,
A door slammed somewhere down the corridor.
A runner appeared, breathless, eyes wide.
“Kieran!” the man called urgently. “Now!”
Kieran stiffened.
His head snapped toward the exit.
Charles strode in behind the runner, along with two other top wolves, faces tight, bodies tense like something serious had happened.
Kieran’s eyes flicked to me one last time.
Fear lived in them.
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25 The Alpha’s Discipline
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Not the fear from the assembly.
A different kind.
Sharper.
Immediate.
His jaw clenched.
Then he turned on his heel and hurried toward the exit with Charles and the others, moving fast enough
that the kitchen staff stopped to watch.
I stood there gripping the knife like it was keeping me upright.
I didn’t care where he was going.
I told myself I didn’t.
But the bond tugged anyway, like some part of me still belonged to him.
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