LOGIN
Mikhail
I stand at the edge of the forest, the scent of pine and earth filling my senses. My blindness sharpens my other senses, making the world around me more vivid in ways most can't comprehend.
Being blind hasn't made me weak. In fact, it's made me stronger, more ruthless. A cruel smirk appears on my face when I recall what happened to those who considered me weak and challenged me. I can still feel the warmth of their blood on my skin as I tore them limb from limb with my bare hands. Those bastards weren't even worthy of fighting against my wolf; even in my human form, they were no match for my strength.
I haven't earned the title of Cruel Blind Alpha for nothing. Killing is my second nature. As the Alpha of the strongest pack in the northern territory, my pack and I are known for being ruthless and fierce.
My father might not have been a loving father, but he was a great mentor. He taught me never to let anyone consider my sightlessness as a weakness.
His methods were harsh, almost cruel, but they prepared me to face this world. He drilled into me the importance of strength and the necessity of being feared and respected.
My mother never liked the way he trained me, but she never said anything because she knew he was doing it for my benefit. She was the only softness in my life, the one who offered comfort after my father's brutal lessons. Her love was a quiet, constant presence, a warmth I rarely allowed myself to acknowledge. But she knew, as I did, that without my father's harsh training, no one would consider me worthy of being Alpha. Without it, I would always be seen as a weak and pathetic excuse for a leader.
My parents died in a rogue attack when I was barely an adult. But I didn't let their deaths go unavenged. I hunted down every last rogue involved and made sure none of them lived to tell the tale.
Clenching my jaws, I shake my head as my wolf howls inside me, being as restless as ever.
Raising my face towards the sky, my useless eyes notice slight brightness, indicating that the moon is shining brightly, and what I am feeling is the effect of the full moon.
I know my pack and my territory with the back of my hand. I don't need eyes to navigate through it.
Returning to the pack house, I directly made my way towards the Alpha quarter.
My eyes make out the blurred outline of the person standing at the door waiting for me as I have ordered.
"Layla." My voice comes out stoic as I acknowledge her.
"Alpha." She purrs in response as she comes and stands directly in front of me.
Extending my hand, I hold her neck and then drag it down towards the middle of her chest and then move my hand lower.
I nod my head in approval as she stands naked, ready to take care of my and my wolf's needs.
"My room, now!" I order and don't wait for her to follow as I make my way towards my room.
As soon as I hear her entering the door and closing the door behind, I push her front against the wall.
"Hands on the wall." I order while removing my clothes, "Don't move." Grabbing her hips harshly, I force her to stand still.
"Take whatever you want from me..." Turning her head slightly, she smiles at me. "Don't hold back. You know I can take it."
A growl ripples through me when I partially shift into my wolf while the room echoes with her painful screams.
CalebI know I have a temper.It flares fast, burns hot, and sometimes I speak before I think. I have know this all my life. This is how I am.But damn, watching June walk toward Kylie when she was about to shift lights up my fuse like nothing else.We have been told since we were pups to never go near anyone in the middle of a shift. It is one of the first rules drilled into us. Bones break. Control slips. Instinct takes over. Even the gentlest wolf can lash out without meaning to. The outcome can turn devastating in a blink.And June was already too close.Kylie was trembling, her body caught between human and wolf, pain twisting her features. A few people stood back, giving her space. That is what we are supposed to do.June stepped closer.Closer.My chest tightened so hard it felt like something snapped inside me. What was she thinking? Did she not understand the risk?When she took another step, I did not think. I moved.I jumped in between them, my body planting itself like a s
JuneThis is the exact reason I never feel like I belong anywhere.Because sooner or later, you are expected to bend. To soften the edges that make other people uncomfortable. To pretend you did not see what you saw. To hold back because someone with money or a last name that carries weight must not be bruised.You have to be untrue to yourself so someone unworthy can keep their shine.It sits wrong with me.The only place I never felt that way was underground.Down there, under flickering lights and stained ceilings, nobody cared where you came from. Nobody asked who your parents were or what car dropped you off. It was dangerous. It was ugly sometimes. People could be cruel in ways that left marks you carried home.But they were honest.Respect was earned. Not handed out because of a trust fund or a powerful family.The richest man in the room could be knocked flat and walk out a loser. A dirt poor girl like me could leave with cheers ringing in her ears because she earned that spot
JuneBy the time the first session ends, my arms feel like they are filled with sand and my shoulder throbs where Allan’s punch connected. Sweat cools against my skin as the breeze moves across the field. Around me, people stretch, laugh, groan dramatically about sore muscles.There is a lightness in the air. We survived the first round.Sasha claps her hands once. “Good work. That’s it for this session.”A few people cheer quietly. Someone mutters something about finally getting food. The group begins to disperse, bodies turning toward the building, water bottles lifted, conversations already starting.I bend to retie my laces again, tightening them out of habit.“Where do you think you’re going?”Sasha’s voice slices through the movement.Everyone pauses.She stands with her hands on her hips, scanning us like we are a class of children caught trying to leave early. “Your session with me has ended,” she says, her tone sharp but not cruel. “You are not free yet.”A collective groan r
June Fortunately, I am paired against a guy. Relief slips through me before I can stop it. It is not that I look down on girls. Strength is not owned by any gender. I have met girls who can knock the air out of a room with a single punch. But I know my own power. I know how much force I carry in my limbs, how quickly instinct can take over. And when I glance at some of the girls in our group, I see hesitation in their eyes. Not all of them. A few look eager, focused. But others shift their weight nervously, their smiles tight. If I had been paired with one of them, there is a real chance I would have hurt them without meaning to. I do not want that. Not even for Mean Barbie and her circle. The guy standing across from me is built like a wall. Broad shoulders. Thick arms. Veins running along his forearms like cords. He looks like he inhales steroids for fun and washes them down with protein shakes. He studies me, and I can practically hear his thoughts. She is small. She is light
JuneI do not get it. What is his problem?The question loops in my head as I tighten my grip on the barbell and push through another rep. My muscles burn in a way I understand. That kind of strain makes sense. Lift. Breathe. Lower. Repeat. There is comfort in the rhythm.Caleb does not make sense.It would have been easy to avoid him if he were just another trainee. A random face in a crowd. But he is not. He walks through this place like it belongs to him, like the walls recognize him. People listen when he speaks. They move when he moves. That makes him impossible to ignore.And for some reason, he seems to be taking a special interest in me.I rack the bar with more force than necessary and sit up, reaching for my water bottle. My heart is pounding, but not just from the workout.Maybe some other girl will catch his attention. That would solve everything. He can focus on someone else. Smile at someone else. Stare at someone else like he is trying to read through their skin.Yes. T
CalebI trail a few steps behind Jake and Lucas as we head toward the dining hall, the morning air still cool against my skin. My shoes echo softly on the path, familiar sounds that usually fade into the background. Today, everything feels sharper. My senses refuse to settle, like my body is bracing for something it already knows is coming.Lucas walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders loose, humming something under his breath that I do not recognize. Jake is beside him, posture easy but alert in the way only he can manage. They are a couple of steps ahead of me when Lucas suddenly turns around, walking backward without missing a beat.He flashes me a grin that is pure trouble and then lifts his hand, showing me his middle finger with pride.I snort despite myself and shake my head. Idiot.Lucas laughs and spins back around before Jake can smack the back of his head for it. This side of him only comes out with us. Anyone else gets the sharp observer, the quiet thinker who notic







