Alpha of the pack

Ever since I was little, I was told that alphas are controlling, intense, and overbearing. Mine… was the complete opposite. I did what I wanted, and he seemed perfectly fine without interfering. Sometimes too much so, as if it were part of his Zen training not to comment on me.

One day I went into the woods alone to hunt—no omega did that—and when I returned carrying a deer almost bigger than me, the pack fell silent. He was leaning against a tree trunk, arms crossed, looking at me with an expression I couldn't decipher.

"And what's with that face?" I said, half-challengingly.

—Nothing. Just that you did a good job —he replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

That night around the campfire, everyone kept asking me if he wasn't going to get angry, if he wasn't going to set boundaries. He didn't even flinch, he just listened.