Choosing You, My Perilous Alpha

Chapter5

Six Years Later

The arena thrummed with excitement and anticipation, the buzz of energy almost tangible.

Charity squirmed in her seat, situated high in the stands among her packmates. Natasha was perched beside her, on the edge of her seat, her legs jiggling in restlessness.

Unprepared for the relentless sunrays beating down on them after weeks of incessant rain, Charity shifted uncomfortably in her dark jeans, the oversized T-shirt clinging to her skin.

"I have no interest in witnessing this," Charity grumbled, her fingers tugging at the weathered leather of Natasha's jacket. "I despise conflicts. Can't we relocate and return once the battle concludes?"

Rolling her eyes, Natasha remained fixated on the center of the arena, where the current Alpha stood proudly.

The entire pack had convened upon learning that Arthur, now twenty-three years old, had finally challenged his father for leadership. In contrast to the typical response of irritation or agitation from a challenged Alpha, Arthur's father emanated an air of pride. Beaming at Charity's father, who stood dignified by his side as a Delta should, hands clasped behind his back. Taller and more robust than the Alpha, a longstanding source of bewilderment for Charity, prompting her retreat into elaborate fantasy realms.

Encountering those unfamiliar with pack politics, newcomers often prodded Charity for explanations. Intrusive queries abounded about why her father remained a Delta when his capabilities far exceeded the position, appearing better suited for Beta. Revered as the pack's finest warrior, her father exuded a silent authority that commanded admiration and respect, surpassing the Alpha's flamboyant demeanor.

Charity held a slight reverence for her father, embodying the demeanor expected of an Alpha or Beta despite the conventional deference associated with a Delta. Walking tall, with his shoulders squared and chest swelled with understated pride.

Despite his commanding presence, he found contentment in playfully rolling around with his pups and relished in training the young wolves as they matured to join active pack duties.

In a sudden jolt, another wolf accidentally bumped into Charity as she navigated back to her seat, nearly causing her to stumble forward. Catching herself before colliding with the wolf seated in front of them, she emitted a soft groan.

"Natasha," Charity complained, tugging at the end of Tasha's lengthy braid cascading over her shoulder. "I can't bear to witness this. You're aware of my aversion to violence."

"I thought you would be thrilled to reunite with your crush," Natasha playfully teased, winking at Charity.

"You can finally confess your undying affection for him once he ascends as the new Alpha."

Charity remained silent, simply rolling her eyes in response.

"I have come to discern that silence from you all too well," Natasha sang out playfully. "I realize that you are only here because Arthur will be in attendance. There is no need to try to deceive me."

"No, I accompanied you because you extended the invitation!" Charity asserted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She couldn't understand why; Natasha's deep insight into her made a feeble lie futile.

"Of course," Natasha drawled, popping one of her preferred dried meat snacks into her mouth, savoring the flavor. "And I am the Pope, and that little pup over there is the Viscount de Chagny."

The pup, clinging to an oversized lamb plushie, sparked a twinge of disapproval in Charity.

"That's quite cliché," she chuckled discreetly, ensuring her voice remained hushed to avoid attracting attention from the nearby wolves.

"Says the girl who had a bone plushie as a pup!"

"I was only two years old! I didn't make that choice. That was my dad's doing!" Charity retorted, perturbed by Natasha bringing up that insignificant toy. "And I wasn't the one flaunting a faux silver bullet pendant on a necklace for a year to project an image of coolness."

Natasha gasped dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "I 'was' cool. Everyone thought so."

"Naturally," Charity reaffirmed, unable to suppress the broad smile on her face. Natasha had gone through a phase when she aimed to be the most authoritative and daring wolf in the pack, flawlessly encapsulated in her attire. The image of her knee-high leather combat boots, adorned with an excess of chains, remained vivid in Charity's mind.

"Retract that statement," Natasha demanded, mirroring Charity's grin. "I remain the epitome of coolness, and you are well aware of it!"

"You epitomize coolness," Charity concurred, recalling the instances when Natasha staunchly defended her to the pack. Anyone harboring negative opinions about Charity had to contend with Natasha, a gesture that deeply touched Charity.

"You're pretty remarkable yourself," she chuckled.

"I hope I have shown improvement since the last time he saw me," Charity whispered softly, her words almost drowned out by the bustling chatter of the crowd.

"You have dedicated yourself to relentless training over these past five years," Natasha observed, finally turning to face Charity. "You're no longer the vulnerable individual from our childhood."

Charity recognized this progress, grateful for the subtle reinforcement. She had unquestionably grown stronger, ensuring rigorous daily training sessions lasting no less than two hours, even when her immediate desire was to retreat beneath the comforting shelter of her favorite tree and immerse herself in reading until twilight. Enduring days of sore muscles, occasionally pondering whether her arms would regain their former strength, or if rising from bed without a groan akin to her grandfather was attainable. Yet, she persisted, aided by Arthur's guidance.

"Merely abandoning the tag of a pushover doesn't translate to a fondness for violence," Charity countered, speaking above the escalating fervor of the crowd. She wrinkled her nose, repulsed by the all-encompassing scents of ardor and bloodlust saturating the stands. It wasn't solely the physical act of harm that perturbed her; it was the amalgamation of potent scents inducing an urge to retch. Each wolf's distinctive aroma intensified by anticipation melded into a malodorous blend that unacceptable and displeasing to Charity.

"Indeed, you'll eternally remain the fervent book enthusiast closest to my heart," Natasha chuckled, lightly elbowing Charity's ribs. "However, could you momentarily set your literary endeavors aside so we can revel in this moment? When was the last time you witnessed an Alpha challenge?"

'Never' lingered on Charity's lips. It encapsulated her aversion to violence. She had awareness of the preceding challenges, albeit infrequent throughout her twenty-one years, and consciously evaded attendance despite her father's insistence.

Redirecting her focus back to the arena, Charity endeavored to soothe her restless wolf, perturbed by its persistent agitation.

"I shall take a brief stroll," Charity informed Natasha, who accepted with a nod. "I will return before the commencement of the duel, I vow."

Navigating past seated individuals to reach the aisle, she tendered murmured apologies while sidestepping their feet. Stepping into the aisle, a sigh of relief escaped her, yearning for a quieter, less populated setting to calm her wolf. Restless throughout the morning, the wolf exhibited signs of agitation, likely mirroring Charity's eagerness to reunite with Arthur. Perhaps enthusiastic to demonstrate to Arthur the extent of Charity's growth during his absence.

Upon reaching the entrance of the arena and stepping outside, a profound sense of tranquility enveloped Charity. Breathing became effortless, and clarity of thought prevailed without the overpowering scent of bloodlust permeating the atmosphere.

The sun ascended higher in the sky, the pristine blue expanse shimmering above her. They hadn't encountered such exquisite weather in weeks. Naturally, the weather had to be perfect on the day Arthur chose to make his return.

Contemplating how Arthur might appear, whether his dark eyes had undergone a transformation, or the way his lips curved when he attempted to suppress a smile. Would he recognize her? Would he—

Her nose crinkled abruptly, a faint, familiar scent lingering enticingly, tugging at her focus. In response, her wolf raised its snout, ears perked with interest. Scanning her surroundings, she sought the source of the invigorating scent captivating her wolf. The revving of a sports car heralded its arrival before she laid eyes on the slick black automobile gliding to a stop.

Shrouded by tinted windows, concealing the occupants within, their identities shrouded in mystery as Charity admired the vehicle. Not an authority on cars by any means, she discerned this one as special. The silver-rimmed wheels glittered in the midday sunlight, juxtaposed against the sleek metallic black hue, and the remarkably slender tires encasing them.

Positioned close to the ground, with minimal clearance between the gravel and the car's underside, evoking a fleeting sensation of awe. Had Charity been a different wolf, she might have emitted a low whistle of admiration. However, her breath was forcibly expelled as the car door swung open and Arthur emerged.

Her senses were engulfed by that alluring aroma that had beckoned her from the arena, momentarily clouding her vision as she grappled for clarity.

She observed as he halted mid-stride, his hand resting on the car door as if on the verge of closing it before something thwarted his action. Charity knew. She understood precisely what had disrupted him.

His gaze shifted, their eyes meeting in an intense lock, prompting Charity's wolf to howl in recognition. She couldn't fathom it. After years of separation, persistently attempting to bury her crush and suppress her sentiments for Arthur...

He had been Charity's true mate all along.