CHAPTER 5: ALPHA KING RYAN

ALPHA KING

There was an unusual hush in the forest, one that made my instincts tingle. As I made my way home, the only thing I heard was the crunch of leaves beneath my boots as they dug into the soft mud of the small route. The moon shone through the above canopy, illuminating the ground with sporadic silver pools. Even though I've always been cautious, I'm nervous tonight. For weeks, rogue assaults, growing hostilities between packs, and rumours of unrest had been creating trouble. It was my duty to maintain the unity and strength of my regions. There was no room for failure. Being six feet four, I am a powerful presence that can subdue most people. My piercing green eyes looked for movement in every branch and shadow, missing nothing. Looking for movement in every branch and shadow. He had elaborate tattoos of wolves and runes engraved into his skin, around his arms and neck. They conveyed authority and a tradition inherited from his ancestors; they weren't merely ornaments. My dark trousers were tucked into sturdy boots, and my black shirt hung loosely over my wide shoulders. I had just a silver dagger strapped to my belt, which I knew how to use with lethal accuracy and no armour. My inner wolf was up and restless. With a persistent, low growl, my wolf declared, "We're being watched." My senses sharpened, and I slowed. Normally teeming with the noises of nocturnal life, the woodland was silent. The little metallic taste of blood made its way to my lips. My jaw tensed as it got to my nose. My warriors understood my signal and prepared their weapons as I held up my hand. The ambush was unexpected. With their snarls tearing through the quiet, seven outlaws emerged from the darkness. Their tattered clothing and tangled fur were evidence of their desperation; they were untamed and feral. A tall, scarred man with pointed, yellowed teeth took the lead. "Alpha King," he said sarcastically, his tone brimming with hate. "This is where your reign ends." A small smirk formed on Mý's lips. "Jùst seven? That is offensive. The leader snarled, "Kill him!" With their teeth and claws shining in the moonlight, the outlaws charged together. I didn't wince. I easily avoided the first assailant by moving like a shadow. Avoiding the initial assailant with ease. With a crack that reverberated through the trees, his fist exploded out and struck the rogue in the ribs. I pivoted, drawing his silver knife in a flash of movement as a second rogue came at me from behind. The rogue fell, crying in agony as the sword tore through flesh. The battle became a rhythm of death. I moved with deliberate accuracy. Another rogue was killed or left bleeding after every strike, dodge, and counterattack. As I struggled, my wolf's strength surged through me, and he snarled in approval. My hands' tattoos glowed subtly, their energy pulsing in time with my movements. Only its leader remained after the final rogue was eliminated. He took a step back, his eyes wide with horror.

"You're. You're not dead; you should be dead; the witch said you'd die today," the leader stammered, clutching his bleeding side. "No. I'm not dead but now I'm your worst nightmare." I made a single, decisive motion to end the fight, and the rogue leader's body crumpled lifelessly to the ground. My wolf settled, and I stood motionless for a moment, taking deep breaths, and the forest was quiet again, save for the rustle of leaves in the wind. If the witches are involved, then it simply means trouble, but fortunately, I didn't lose any of my warriors. I hate it when I lose my people. All of this can be avoided, but man's greed is too great. He will stop at nothing to get power, and others are only a burden to him, with no regard for the families he leaves behind. "Pathetic," said my wolf. "They never learn." With an unreadable expression, I cleaned my dagger and put it away. There was no actual danger from this ambush. It was ill-thought-out and frantic, but it made people wonder. Why were outlaws getting so brazen? Who or what motivated them to attack? Unanswered enquiries annoyed me. I took an ink pen and a folded piece of parchment out of my saddlebag and mounted my horse at the edge of the woodland. I wrote a message with deliberate, fast strokes: Thomas, I will come to see your pack in three days. Tell him I've returned. “Tell him I’m here. We need to talk.” – I sealed the letter with my crest, pressing the seal into a circle of wax, forming a wolf howling under a crescent moon. “Take this to Thomas’s pack,” I called to a young courier who had been waiting aside. The boy nodded and took the letter before mounting his horse and disappearing into the night at a gallop. I didn’t move, my sharp eyes stuck forward into the darkness. Something felt strange. The air felt heavy, and my wolf stirred uneasily. This was their territory, but none of their warriors appeared. I asked his parents if Thomas was old enough to lead, and they said he was, making him Alpha by following me to the council yet now he's sneaking around. His mating ceremony is scheduled for a few days from now. According to my wolf, we haven't finished yet. It's not just that. "Count the number of men we lost; I would speak with their families myself." I'm experiencing a severe headache; I didn't request this, and I dislike the slaughter; it could have been prevented, but human greed is unending, and I must take the necessary actions to defend my people. His fingers brushed across the charmed ink as I stroked the tattoos on my neck. My gut told me that something significant was about to happen, so I followed it. As I proceeded, the moon was low in the sky, and the shadows surrounding me grew darker. A storm was brewing somewhere, hidden by the darkness. And that was directly aimed at me.