Gamma Thatcher's Secret

Cressida

The digital clock on the heavy oak nightstand glared menacingly in the dark. The bright red numbers read exactly 2:20 am. I lay rigid against the mattress, suffocated by my own lingering fear and the thick, musky scent of pine and campfire smoke that clung to the air. The hulking beast of a man beside me was dead asleep, but his sheer presence felt like a crushing weight on my chest.

His muscular, scarred arm rested heavy across my waist, acting as an iron bar keeping me locked in place. Every time his broad chest expanded with a breath, the mattress shifted beneath us. He was the tallest man I had ever seen, a towering mountain of muscle and raw power. Being the Alpha meant his physical size matched the sheer dominance of his rank, a fact that my human mind found terrifying.

My wolf, Glimmer, hummed quietly in the back of my mind. She trusted him, lulled into a sense of security by his scent and his claim. But I was miles away from feeling safe. He had marked me, dragged me into his territory, and locked me in his bedroom without ever asking for my opinion. The whiplash of the past twenty-four hours made my head spin. I had gone from a rankless nobody, a wolf practically at the bottom of the food chain, to his prized possession in the blink of an eye. And I knew the brutal truth of pack life—possessions were only valued until their owners grew bored of them.

I had to escape the claustrophobic confines of this bed. Even a few minutes of fresh air would clear my racing thoughts. I carefully shifted my gaze to his face. His sharp jawline was relaxed, and his breathing remained deep and even. So far, so good.

I raised a trembling finger and gave his solid bicep a light poke, testing the waters. Nothing. He didn’t stir. It was almost impossible to pretend to sleep when trapped against the furnace-like heat of another body, but I had managed to stay perfectly still until now.

Holding my breath with every agonizing micro-movement, I began to slide my small frame out from under his heavy arm. I moved inches at a time, pausing whenever the sheets rustled. It took what felt like an eternity, but I finally slipped free from his grip. My bare feet touched the cold hardwood floor. I grabbed my slip-on sneakers near the edge of the rug and crept silently toward the heavy bedroom door.

I knew I could not truly leave. He would track my scent and hunt me down in minutes. But I just needed space. I eased the door open, slipped through the crack, and stepped out into the grand hallway.

The packhouse was quiet, but it was far from empty. Night-shift warriors patrolled the expansive corridors. They were gigantic walls of muscle and might, seasoned fighters who carried the heavy scent of blood and discipline. Back in my old life, wolves like this would not even spare a glance at someone of my lowly status, or worse, they would go out of their way to force me into submission and remind me of my place.

I kept my head down, trying to hug the shadows, but their sharp senses picked up on me instantly. A pair of towering guards at the top of the staircase stopped dead in their tracks. They turned toward me, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and underlying fear. In perfect unison, they bowed deeply, bending at the waist.

"Luna," they murmured respectfully.

The heavy title hit my ears and sent a fresh wave of swirling anxiety straight to my core. My imposter syndrome flared, wrapping tight around my throat. Did they respect me, or were they just terrified of the monster sleeping down the hall? If I were just Cressida, would they even acknowledge my existence? One wrong move, one tiny mistake, and any of these warriors could snap my neck with a single hand. I knew all wolves were sensitive to power dynamics, and compared to the sheer, oppressive strength radiating from the Alpha, I felt like a fragile piece of glass.

I hurried past them, keeping my eyes glued to my sneakers as I navigated down the winding staircase and into the dimly lit, expansive living room. The shadows stretched long across the plush rugs and leather furniture. I was making a beeline for the back doors when a towering figure stepped directly into my path, intercepting my escape attempt.

"Good morning," a deep, smooth voice echoed in the quiet room. "I am Gamma Thatcher. Did you wish to go for a walk, my Luna? It will calm your nerves."

I froze, my neck craning upward. Before me stood an absolute Amazon of a warrior. She had to be at least six-foot-five, towering over my small frame. Thick, dark curly hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing a strong face with piercing brown-amber eyes that held tiny crimson flecks. I had always assumed the pack’s Gamma was a male, but the sheer physical presence radiating from this female warrior effortlessly commanded the entire room. She was nearly as tall as the Alpha himself.

She lowered her head, dipping into the same deep, respectful bow the guards had given me, before standing back up. Her broad shoulders cast a long shadow over me in the dim light. Why wasn't she his mate? Why did the Moon Goddess choose me? I stood there, reeking of fear like a cornered rabbit, silently questioning the cruel fate that handed me over to a terrifying beast instead of pairing him with a warrior who could actually stand her ground.

Thatcher waited patiently for my answer, her posture relaxed but attentive, acting as if my next word was absolute law. I swallowed hard and gave a stiff nod. I probably did not have a real choice anyway. Wandering around alone while smelling like pure terror was a great way to trigger a guard's predatory instinct.

I trailed silently behind her massive strides as she led the way to the glass patio doors. She pushed them open, and we stepped out into the expansive backyard. The cool night air hit my flushed face, offering immediate relief from the suffocating atmosphere of the packhouse. Above us, a waxing silver moon illuminated the manicured lawn and the dark line of trees bordering the property.

Thatcher did not force conversation. Her silence was surprisingly gentle and deeply respectful. We walked side by side, our footsteps dampening in the dewy grass, until we reached the edge of the treeline. She stopped and tipped her head back, staring thoughtfully up at the glowing moon. I mirrored her movement, letting the silver light wash over my skin.

"So," Thatcher said bluntly, her deep voice breaking the quiet night. She turned her head, fixing those intense amber eyes on me. "What are your honest thoughts on Alpha Kaelen, Luna?"

My heart hammered against my ribs. What did I think of him? I could not formulate a convincing lie under her intense gaze. I was a terrible liar on a good day, and right now, my nerves were frayed to the breaking point. I could not tell a high-ranking pack official that her Alpha was a sex-crazed monster out to torment me. But I could not pretend everything was fine, either. She could smell my terror. Everyone in the packhouse probably knew the new Luna was terrified of her mate.

I took a deep, shaky breath, deciding to just rip the bandage off.

"He’s really intimidating," I admitted openly, my voice barely above a whisper. "He’s always glaring at me like I’m his dinner. And honestly... I don’t know much else other than that."

I braced myself, expecting fierce anger, a defensive reprimand, or a stern lecture about respecting my mate. Instead, the towering Gamma let out a soft chuckle. It was a rich, warm sound that felt out of place coming from such a fierce, battle-hardened warrior. A deeply knowing smile stretched across her face, crinkling the corners of her amber eyes.

"You know," Thatcher said, her tone softening with fondness. "My husband felt the exact same way about me. It took him nearly fifty long years to finally stop submitting to me."

I blinked, my confusion momentarily overriding my fear. "Why is that funny?"

Her smile widened. "Because you remind me of him. If he were standing here right now, he would complain that I should make him sound a bit more stoic in my retelling. But I will give you the unvarnished truth." She shifted her weight, crossing her thick, muscular arms over her chest. "When Emmett first came to this pack, he was terrified. He’s a fragile Omega. His first mate was the daughter of an Alpha, betrothed to marry another high-ranking wolf. Her father chased him away, ruthlessly kicking him out before he even had a chance to speak to her. Emmett told me she just stood there, sneering at him and cursing the Moon Goddess for assigning her an Omega."

We began a slow pace back along the treeline, and I listened intently, hanging on her every word.

"When I eventually found him, he was wandering our borders as a scruffy, tattered, starving rogue," Thatcher continued, her voice tinged with a protective edge. "Thankfully, I found him before my father did. I brought him in. I gave him a chance despite his broken state. And he proved himself. He looks and smells practically human, so he became our main asset for running supplies into the human town. Every day, he would sneak around avoiding my father just to deliver special notes to my desk. I was the Gamma back then, too. I still have every single one of those love letters."

She let out a contented sigh, looking back up at the moon. "He didn’t have to do any of that. But we became deeply bound out of pure, unadulterated devotion. We overrode the tragic fates the universe originally designed for us. He is the love of my life, and I would tear the world apart before I ever let anyone hurt him."

Thatcher stopped walking and turned to face me. She looked me dead in the eye, her expression turning solemn and deadly serious. "I promise you, Kaelen feels the exact same absolute, unwavering devotion to you. Even if his heavy-handed, aggressive approach to courting you right now is wrong and terrifying."

"But if Emmett is your marked mate," I asked quietly, trying to make sense of the tangled web of fated bonds. "What happened to your true mate?"

Thatcher ran a massive hand through her dark curls, sighing into the night breeze. "I don’t know for sure, but I have a theory. Because Emmett’s mate never officially rejected him—her father did the dirty work—the Goddess reset his bond to me. My true mate died in a border skirmish before I ever got the chance to meet him. I felt the snap of the bond. So, we both would have been left wandering this earth mateless if we hadn't found each other. To me, Emmett feels like my true mate in every way that matters."

I stayed quiet, letting her profound words settle into my racing mind. Thatcher turned her gaze back to the silver moon, her amber eyes catching the light.

"When my late father found out I marked an Omega, he didn't approve, but he respected my choice," she murmured softly, her voice carrying on the wind. "He told me that the Moon Goddess specifically gives intensely aggressive mates deeply submissive ones. It is a delicate balance. It fundamentally protects the weak from the cruel realities of this world, while simultaneously calming the destructive inner fire of the strong."

She paused, a wry grin tugging at her lips. "Before Emmett, there was no compromise with me. I was a warrior and a strategic analyst first. I ruled through strength. If I had met a man like my younger brother instead of Emmett, I would probably be a real violent bitch to be around."

My racing mind suddenly hit a brick wall.

Her younger brother?

The words echoed in my head as I stared up at her towering, muscular frame. I looked at her dark, unruly curly hair. I looked at the sharp, commanding line of her jaw. I stared into those piercing brown-amber eyes with the tiny crimson flecks hidden inside them.

The disconnected pieces finally clicked together in a startling, world-tilting epiphany.

Alpha Kaelen is her younger brother?

Thatcher looked down at my shell-shocked expression, and her wide smile broke into a full grin, clearly thoroughly amused by my sudden realization. My jaw practically unhinged. How could I have been so blind? Staring at her in the moonlight, the resemblance was undeniable.

How could I not see that she looks exactly like him!