The Alpha's forbidden omega mate - Chapter 315: Chapter 315

Jarrett POV:
The training field was a whirlwind of motion, a symphony of snarls and growls, of fur and fangs, of wolves testing their strength, their speed, their skill, a dance of power and agility under the watchful gaze of the newly returned Alpha.
Rowan.
Back from the spirit realm.
Back… to us.
It had been five years since he’d vanished, five years since we’d believed him lost forever, five years of grieving, of struggling, of trying to hold the Magnus pack together in the face of unimaginable loss, of a darkness that had threatened to consume us all.
And now, here he was, his fur gleaming in the morning sun, his amber eyes, once filled with a carefree spirit, now held a depth, a wisdom, a sadness that spoke of battles fought, of sacrifices made, of a love that had defied even death itself.
He moved among the wolves, a quiet word of encouragement here, a gentle correction there, a nod of approval, a hand on a shoulder, his presence a calming influence, a steady anchor in the storm of emotions that still swirled within the pack.
He was different, this Rowan.
Older. Wiser. Haunted.
But he was still their Alpha.
And they… they were starting to believe again.
In him.
In themselves.
In the future.
“He’s a natural, Jarrett,” Maggie said, her voice a soft murmur beside me, her lavender scent a comforting presence, a reminder of the love that had endured, the family that had survived, the hope that still flickered in the darkness.
“Just like… his father.”
I looked at her, at the she-wolf who had become a part of our pack, a part of our family, her amber eyes filled with a mix of pride and a lingering sadness, a reminder of the daughter she’d lost, the battles they’d fought together, the sacrifices they’d both made.
“He is,” I agreed, my voice a low rumble, my gaze fixed on Rowan, my heart aching with a mix of emotions – relief, gratitude, guilt, regret, and a fierce protectiveness that extended beyond the boundaries of blood, of pack, of duty.
He was my nephew, yes, but he was also… something more.
He was the son I’d never had, the leader I’d always hoped he would become, the hope for a future I’d almost given up on.
“But he’s also… different, Maggie,” I said, my voice a quiet observation, a concern that gnawed at me, a whisper of a fear I couldn’t quite shake.
“He’s… seen things. Done things. Things that… that have changed him.”
“He’s been to the spirit realm, Jarrett,” she said, her voice a gentle reminder, her gaze meeting mine, her amber eyes filled with a wisdom that came from a connection to a world beyond my understanding, a world of magic and shadows, of life and death.
“He’s… walked between worlds. He’s… faced darkness… that we can only… imagine.”
She paused, her words hanging heavy in the air, the weight of their implications, the truth of her statement, a reminder of the power Rowan now wielded, the magic that flowed through his veins, the destiny he was embracing.
“He’s not just… a werewolf anymore, Jarrett,” she continued, her voice a soft whisper, her words a prophecy, a warning. “He’s… something more.”
I nodded, my gaze returning to Rowan, watching him as he moved among the wolves, his presence a calming influence, a steady anchor, a beacon of hope in the darkness that still lingered.
But even as I admired his strength, his resilience, his unwavering determination to lead, to protect, to rebuild, a flicker of unease, a whisper of doubt, echoed in my mind, a reminder of the darkness he’d faced, the sacrifices he’d made, the love he’d almost lost.
The spirit realm had changed him.
Just as it had changed Catrina.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling that the battle we’d fought, the victory we’d won, was just the beginning.
That the true test, the true challenge, was yet to come.
A new era was dawning for the Magnus pack, that was undeniable. Rowan’s return, like a lightning strike, had jolted them from their grief-stricken stupor, igniting a fire in their hearts, a renewed sense of purpose. They trained harder, listened more intently, their movements sharper, their eyes brighter. Hope, a fragile seedling after years of uncertainty and fear, had taken root and was beginning to blossom, reaching for the sunlight of a future they’d almost given up on.
I watched from the edge of the training field, a knot of unease tightening in my chest, a counterpoint to the energy that radiated from the wolves before me.
Rowan moved among them, a natural leader, his very presence a balm to their wounded spirits, a living testament to the resilience of the Magnus bloodline.
His voice, though calm, carried the weight of Alpha command, his amber eyes, once shadowed with a carefree spirit, now observant, sharp, missing nothing.
He corrected stances with a gentle hand, offered praise that made young wolves puff their chests with pride, and sparred with a few, his movements fluid, powerful, graceful.
He was every inch the Alpha, yet… different.
“Faster, Liam! You’re telegraphing your moves!” Rowan’s voice cut through the air, a mix of instruction and encouragement.
Liam, a young, eager wolf from the Mondragon pack, snarled playfully, his movements becoming more fluid, more unpredictable. He’d grown since joining us, his initial apprehension replaced by a fierce loyalty to Isabelle, and now, to Rowan.
“He’s good, Alpha,” Liam said, panting slightly after a particularly intense exchange with Rowan. “Quick reflexes.”
“He learned from the best,” a gruff voice said behind me.
I turned to see Elder Thorne, his amber eyes, though aged, still held a spark of the warrior he once was. He watched Rowan, a grudging respect replacing his earlier suspicion.
“He’s… changed, though,” Thorne continued, his gaze fixed on Rowan, his scent a mix of pine and a lingering unease. “There’s a… stillness to him now. A… knowing.”
“The spirit realm will do that to a wolf,” I murmured, my gaze returning to Rowan. “It changes you.”
“Hmph,” Thorne grunted, his gaze shifting to me, a silent question in his eyes. “And what about the girl? The omega. She’s changed, too. That power… it’s not natural.”
I met his gaze, unflinching. “It’s a power she earned, Elder. A power she wields for the good of the pack. She is not a threat.”
Thorne snorted, unconvinced, but he didn’t argue further. He knew, as we all did, that Catrina’s sacrifice had brought Rowan back. And that was something even the most stubborn elder couldn’t deny.
The training session continued, the air filled with the sounds of exertion, the scent of sweat and pine. Rowan moved among them, a whirlwind of silver fur, a teacher, a leader, a… brother.
“Remember your training!” Rowan shouted, his voice ringing across the field. “Anticipate your opponent’s moves. Use your instincts. And never, ever, underestimate a smaller wolf.”
He winked at a young she-wolf who’d just been taken down by a smaller, quicker opponent, drawing a laugh from the others. It was a lighthearted moment, a reminder of the camaraderie, the bond, that had always been the heart of the Magnus pack.
“Again!” he commanded, and the wolves returned to their training, their movements sharper, their focus intensified.
“He has your father’s fire, Derek,” I murmured, more to myself than to my nephew, who stood beside me, his gaze fixed on Rowan.
Derek remained silent, but the tension in his shoulders, the way his golden fur bristled, betrayed his inner turmoil.
The larva’s influence had been purged, Damien’s hold broken, but the scars remained.
Derek was healing, slowly, painstakingly, but the darkness had left its mark. He was struggling with his place in the pack, in this new reality.
“He does,” Derek finally said, his voice a low rumble, a hint of pride mixed with a lingering sadness, a reminder of the brother he’d almost become, the monster he’d almost unleashed.
“But he’s… gentler, somehow. More… patient.”
I nodded, my gaze still fixed on Rowan. He was right. There was a new depth to Rowan, a quiet understanding in his eyes, a compassion that hadn’t been there before. The spirit realm, it seemed, had changed him, tempered his fire with a wisdom that went beyond his years.
“He’s always had that within him, Derek,” I said softly, remembering the young, carefree Rowan, the boy who’d loved to run through the forest, who’d always had a kind word for the omegas, who’d challenged his father’s harshness.
“He just… needed to find it again.”
Derek was silent, his gaze fixed on Rowan, his inner turmoil evident in the way he shifted his weight, the way his claws extended and retracted, a silent battle between the wolf he was and the wolf he feared he’d become.
“It’s… it’s hard, Jarrett,” he finally confessed, his voice a choked whisper, the weight of his guilt, his shame, his fear, a heavy burden.
“To… to look at him. To… to know what I almost… did. To… to know that… that I was… lost.”
I placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a silent comfort, a reassurance that he wasn’t alone, that we were here for him, that the pack would help him heal, that we would face the future, whatever it held, together.
“You’re not lost, Derek,” I said, my voice firm, unwavering. “You’re here. You’re healing. And you have a place in this pack. Always.”
He looked at me then, his golden eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and a lingering uncertainty, a flicker of the darkness that still haunted him, a reminder of the battle he was still fighting, the demons he was still wrestling.
“I… I don’t know, Uncle,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I… I did terrible things. I… I almost…”
“You were under the influence of the larva, Derek,” I said, my voice a gentle but firm reminder.
“It wasn’t you. It was… Damien. And he’s gone now. Thanks to… to Rowan. And Catrina.”
Derek flinched at her name, his gaze dropping to the ground, his body trembling, the weight of his actions, the darkness he’d embraced, the love he’d almost destroyed, a heavy burden.
“I… I don’t deserve their forgiveness, Jarrett,” he whispered, his voice a broken plea, a confession of his guilt, his shame, his fear. “I… I don’t deserve… any of this.”
“We all make mistakes, Derek,” I said, my voice soft, my hand squeezing his shoulder, a silent reassurance, a reminder of the pack bond, the family we were, the love that still remained.
“But… it’s what we do… after… that matters. How we… learn. How we… grow. How we… heal.”
I paused, my gaze meeting his, my amber eyes filled with a hope that I desperately wanted him to share, a belief in the power of redemption, the possibility of forgiveness, the strength of the wolf within him.
“You have a chance, Derek,” I said, my voice a low rumble, a promise, a challenge, a hope. “A chance to… to make amends. To… to rebuild. To… to be the wolf… you were always meant to be.”.