Diana The drive to Deming is filled with a nervous excitement that bubbles in my chest. As we leave the familiar streets of Garnet City behind, I watch the landscape change through the car window. Deming, though only an hour away, feels like a different world entirely. Just like Garnet City, Deming is equally a purely human town. However, that’s where the similarities end. Where Garnet City is quaint and nestled in nature, Deming pulses with urban energy. Tall buildings reach for the sky, their glass facades reflecting the afternoon sun. The streets are busier, filled with a diverse mix of people hurrying about their day. As we navigate through the bustling streets, I can't help but marvel at the sights and sounds around us. Probably because of the college, there are a lot of students with backpacks slung over their shoulders hurry along the sidewalks, while suited professionals weave between them. Before long, we're pulling into the parking lot of Deming Community College. The ca
Diana "Let's go check out the campus. After all, you'll be spending quite a bit of time here. We should make sure you like the ambiance." I nod, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation swirling in my stomach. As we set off to explore the grounds, I can't help but feel a sense of wonder. Just this morning, returning to school had been a distant dream. Now, here I am, about to tour a college campus - possibly my college campus. The campus of Deming Community College unfolds before us like a miniature city. Dominicus and I stroll hand in hand, taking in the sights and sounds of academic life. The main quad bustles with activity - students lounging on the grass, buried in books or engaged in animated conversations. We pass by the library, an imposing brick building with wide steps leading to its entrance. Through the large windows, I catch glimpses of students hunched over computers or browsing towering shelves of books. The sight fills me with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
Beta Marcus The harsh buzz of my phone cuts through the silence of my office. I still when I notice the number. It's the rogue I'd contacted earlier, the one I'd tasked with getting the bitch from Garnet City but had refused. What the fuck does he want? I snatch it up, "Speak," I command, my voice tight with barely contained anger. "Good news," the man on the other end says, his voice languid. "The girl was spotted just outside Deming. One of our boys saw her, but... she wasn't alone." My grip on the phone tightens. "Go on." "She was with a strong wolf. Couldn't make out who it was, but they seemed... close. They got into a car together." I feel a growl building in my chest but force it down. "And?" "I've got a contact in traffic control. Used the street cameras to track the car. It drove straight into Garnet City." A savage grin spreads across my face. Finally, a solid lead. I can almost taste her fear, hear her pleas for mercy. But the rogue isn't finished. "Look, Marcus,
Beta Marcus As my eyes adjust to the dim light, a sense of twisted satisfaction washes over me. The bastard who had been a thorn in my side for so long, who dared to challenge my authority, again and again, now hangs before me, broken and defeated. The man is suspended from the ceiling, heavy chains made of silver shackling his wrists before piercing through them. The silver in his bloodstream stopping his shift. The restraints hold him just high enough that his toes barely brush the cold concrete floor, denying him even the small mercy of standing to relieve the tension in his arms. His face is a mess of dried blood and swollen flesh, his eyes forced shut by the bruising. Fresh scars crisscross his bare torso, a testament to the brutality he's endured. He seems to be unconscious, unaware of my presence as I enter his personal hell. I take my time, savoring the moment as I leisurely stroll to the side of the room where a tray of instruments awaits. My fingers brush over them gen
Beta Marcus In one corner, a group huddles around a table, exchanging money for small packets of powder. Nearby, a woman with hollow eyes and track marks on her arms performs a listless dance for leering onlookers. The bar is crowded with men and women drowning their sorrows in cheap alcohol, their faces etched with the hard lines of difficult lives. Looking closer at the women scattered throughout the bar, I can see the telltale signs of abuse and exploitation. Their eyes are vacant, movements mechanical. Most, if not all, have likely been trafficked here against their will. Good. It means this place is run by exactly the kind of people I'm looking for. I approach the bar, shouldering past a pair of men engaged in a heated argument. The bartender, a burly man with a scarred face, eyes me warily as I lean against the sticky counter. "I'm looking for someone," I say, my voice low and purposeful. I drop a name, watching his reaction carefully. The bartender's eyes narrow. "No one b
Diana I step into the spacious closet, my fingers trailing over the soft fabrics of the clothes hanging neatly in rows. It's strange to think that these items are meant for me, chosen with care by Dominicus. The thought sends a flutter through my stomach as I select a comfortable pajama set – silky shorts and a matching camisole top. Returning to the bedroom, I freeze in my tracks. The enormous bed dominates the space, piled high with fluffy pillows and covered in luxurious sheets. It looks impossibly inviting, but as I stare at it, the reality of the situation crashes over me like a wave. We're going to be sharing a room. Sharing that bed. Me and Dominicus, together in this intimate space. My heart begins to race, and I can feel warmth creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. The enormity of what this means – what it could lead to – leaves me feeling dizzy and overwhelmed. Lost in my spiraling thoughts, I don't hear his approach until he's right behind me. His presence, so l
Diana Dominicus stands in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water cling to his skin, catching the light and making him look like he's been carved from living marble. My eyes trace the contours of his body, unable to look away. His torso is a work of art, all sculpted muscle and smooth skin. Every movement causes his muscles to flex and shift, a mesmerizing display of contained power. My gaze travels over his broad chest, down to the ridged plane of his stomach, following the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath the towel. As if in a trance, I let my eyes roam back up, taking in every detail. The strength in his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, the column of his throat. When he reaches up to towel dry his hair, I watch in fascination as his muscles ripple with the motion. Letting the towel drop from his hair, he shakes his head slightly, sending water droplets flying. His damp hair falls around his shoulders in dark waves,
Diana When I wake up the next morning, I find myself alone in the large bed. The sheets beside me are cool, indicating Dominicus has been up for a while. Curiosity pulls me from the comfort of the bed, and I make my way downstairs. I find him in the kitchen, moving with easy grace as he prepares what looks like breakfast. The domestic scene before me makes my heart swell with warmth. Dominicus turns as I enter, a bright smile lighting up his face. "Good morning, Diana," he calls out, his voice warm and inviting. "Good morning," I reply, unable to keep the smile from my own face. He abandons whatever he was doing and comes towards me, something clutched in his hand. As he gets closer, I recognize the familiar shape and color of the purple flower he's been leaving for me. "For you," he says softly, holding out the delicate bloom. I take it, my fingers brushing against his as I do. The simple gesture feels different now, more intimate. Before, he would leave it by my bed, a
Diana Murder?! Me?! They think I killed someone?! And that too a child?!! What the actual fuck?!! My mind reels, unable to process what I'm hearing. Wait no no no, they said ‘aiding and abetting’, so they don’t necessarily believe that I did it directly. More like I HELPED someone do it. An unshifted pup… Werewolves shift at the age of eight… meaning at the oldest the child couldn’t have been more that seven years old… That’s a baby!! I hear a loud and obnoxious ringing in my ears and I take an involuntary step back, as though my body subconsciously tries to physically distance itself from the accusation. Who could do such a thing?! Who could kill such a small and innocent child?! And why are they trying to connect me to it?! Nigel looks at me over the deliberately aged paper, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction at finally eliciting a reaction. "Whose murder?" I ask, my voice high-pitched with shock. "The son of the Alpha of the Plena Luna pack," Nigel replies, clea
Diana Taking my hand, we leisurely walk until we break through the trees. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth but force myself to push down the nerves. I square my shoulders and stand up straight. I'm with Dominicus; I must not shame him by showing weakness. As we emerge from the forest, I see a delegation of wolves turned in our direction, likely alerted by our footsteps. There are at least ten werewolves in attendance, and my eyes widen as I take them in. At first glance, I can tell that over half of them are warriors, but I've never seen pack warriors like this before. Not even Zervos pack warriors measure up. They stand strong, each equipped in black soft armor with sheathed weapons strapped to either their backs or sides. As we approach, the warriors collectively incline their heads in a respectful bow towards us - though I know the gesture is meant for Dominicus - before looking forward again, their gazes fixed on some point in the distance. Their faces are stoic, betrayi
DianaI'm curled up on the plush sofa in Dominicus' study, a book cradled in my hands. The room is bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, filtering through the large windows and casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. The only sounds are the occasional rustle of pages as I turn them and the soft scratching of Dominicus' pen as he works at his desk.It's a peaceful moment, but I find myself stealing glances at Dominicus over the top of my book, admiring the way the sunlight catches in his dark hair, turning it to burnished gold at the edges.Suddenly, the air in the room shifts. It's subtle, barely perceptible, but I feel it like a change in pressure before a storm. I look up from my book to find him sitting ramrod straight in his chair, his body tense as a coiled spring. His face, usually so relaxed around me, has hardened into a mask of seriousness, his eyes narrowed as he stares at something I can't see.Concern floods through me, chasing away the peaceful leth
Brodik Elder Rothgar's booming voice cuts through the chatter like a knife. "We need to act quickly. If we can bring this monster under our control, imagine the power we could wield." Elder Fendel nods, a sly smile playing at his lips. In that moment, he looks less like a dignified Elder and more like a sneaky wolf eyeing its prey. "Yes, but how do we approach such a creature? We can't simply extend an invitation." "We could offer him more territory," Elder Thomas suggests, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that belies his age. “Thats useless! As it stands, the Amadeus Pack lands is the largest territory by land mass already. In addition to the human town, all the forestry around it spanning thousands of miles belong to him! How would that tempt him?!” someone argues. "How about a seat on the Council, then! Afterall, all past Amadeus Alphas sat on the council. That might work!” “All Amadeus Alphas are nominal Council Elders already! If he wants a seat, how do you stop him?!”
12 hours ago… Brodik The Council chamber, a vast and imposing space, breathes with the weight of centuries. I stand motionless against its far wall, my face an impassive mask as I observe the unfolding drama before me. The room itself is a testament to the longevity and power of our kind, its very air thick with the scent of old leather, polished wood. Ornate tapestries adorn the walls, their rich hues muted by time and the flickering light of antique chandeliers. These woven histories depict epic werewolf battles and hunts, silent witnesses to the countless decisions that have shaped our world. The golden glow from the chandeliers dances across the scarred surface of the massive oak table dominating the chamber's center, its wood polished to a soft sheen by centuries of use and heated debates. Around this table sit the five of the most powerful werewolves in our world, Council Elders. Their faces, etched with the lines of age and weighted with hard-earned wisdom, are a canvas
Diana I take a deep breath, memories of Billy flooding my mind. "He's been there for me since I was eight," I begin, my voice soft with fondness. "When I was kicked out of the Pack orphanage for failing to shift, Billy was the one who stepped up..." “…He made a few Omega men help him clean out a small shack for me. They didn’t want to, but he made them." Dominicus's eyebrows raise slightly, but he doesn't interrupt. "No one else wanted anything to do with me," I continue, a hint of old pain in my voice. "But Billy... he got furniture for me, fixed it up. He made sure I was fed and clothed. He even homeschooled me." I pause, overwhelmed by the memories. "Without him, I wouldn't have survived. A wolfless orphan at eight... I wouldn't have stood a chance." Dominicus's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "He sounds like a good man," he says softly. I nod, tears pricking at my eyes. "He is. He even moved to a smaller, more rundown house closer to mine, just to be near me. He... he wa
DianaI take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh forest air that surrounds us. The scent of pine and earth fills my lungs, momentarily calming my frayed nerves. But the weight of what I need to say presses down on me. Steeling myself, I turn to face Dominicus, my heart pounding in my chest."Dom?" I call out, my voice barely above a whisper, almost lost in the gentle rustling of leaves around us. "There's something I need to tell you... about yesterday."I feel him tense briefly before relaxing, his muscles shifting beneath his skin like a predator preparing for action. His arms tighten around me, a gesture of silent support that speaks volumes in the quiet of the forest."What is it?" he asks, his tone gentle but concerned. His eyes, those mesmerizing brown orbs, search my face intently.I nod, swallowing hard. The memory of yesterday's ordeal sends a chill down my spine. But there's no time to waste. We need to act, and for that, Dominicus needs to know everything."It's... it's not g
DianaI feel my hands clench into fists. The fury inside me is not just anger – it's determination, it's resolve, it's a fierce protectiveness for the man before me.As I look up at Dominicus, my eyes blazing, I see a flicker of surprise cross his face. He pauses in his narration, studying me intently.How dare they?!How dare those bastards do that to him?!The weight of Dominicus's words, the pain that was etched in every line of his face as he told the story, fuels my anger. I feel it burning in my chest, threatening to consume me."They must pay," I declare, my voice trembling with rage. "Those people must pay for all they've done. Dominicus. I'm going to help you find them. We'll get revenge!"To my surprise, Dominicus's response is a soft smile. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my nose. "Thank you, dulcis," he murmurs, his voice warm with affection.His reaction throws me off balance. The smile, the tenderness – it feels incongruous with the gravity of what we've just d
DianaThe words hang in the air, heavy and ominous. My tears stop as shock takes over, leaving me feeling numb and disoriented.“Dark… Magic?” I echo, stutteringly.“Wha-“ "It... it actually exists?" I whisper, my voice barely audible.Dominicus's face is grave, his eyes dark with a chilling menace."Yes”, his jaw clenched tight.My eyes are round as my jaw goes slack with shock. A frown creeps across Dominicus's face. "Tell me," he says carefully, "what do you know about the supernatural world?""Well, it's made up of werewolves-," I begin but then I trail off, uncertainty creeping in. Something about the way he asked the question makes me pause and reconsider.I think back to the books I've read, remembering inconsistencies I'd previously overlooked. "In the books I've studied," I say slowly, piecing my thoughts together, "sometimes they refer to the 'supernatural world' and other times to the 'werewolf world.' I never really thought about it before, but... if they mean the same t