KING RYAN
The woods was too quiet. Every crunch of wet mud beneath my boots sounded too loud, too sharp. The moonlight broke through the canopy in broken fragments, silver puddles painting the path, but it wasn’t enough to settle me.
I’d been Alpha King long enough to know this stillness wasn’t normal but trouble brewing in silence; the forest was mostly lively at nights with owls, crickets, whispers of wolves—but tonight everything was holding its breath.
And so was I.
Weeks of unrest had pulled the air tight, rebellions whispered, alliances frayed, and outlaws bold enough to test me. My duty was to keep the packs unified and my territories safe. I couldn’t afford weakness. Not now not ever if I wanted peace around.
I carried that weight in every step. At six foot four, I was a presence men instinctively bowed to, but respect wasn’t enough to stop blades or treachery rooted in the hearts of greedy creatures, wolves inclusive. My eyes scanned through every movement around me as I felt goosebumps all over me as I stretched my neck, feeling invisible movements all over my tattooed arms and neck. Ink which reminded me of my origin, my position, my struggle and my foundation.
My wolf stirred uneasily inside me, a low growl rumbling through my chest. We’re being watched.
My hand brushed the hilt of my dagger—silver, efficient, lite, unweighty and silent. A weapon I’d mastered, though I wished I didn’t need it so often. The air thickened. The forest listened and suddenly at the speed of light, I found myself surrounded.
Seven rogues burst through from the shadows, their snarls shattering the stillness and making the atmosphere filled with noise.
Dirty fur, scarred skin, desperation reeking off them. Rogues, Wolves who’d turned feral from hunger and hate. At their front, a scarred brute with teeth too yellow to be called human or wolf.
“Alpha King,” he spat, his voice carrying venom. “This is the end of you and your kingdom.”
I almost laughed. A smile tugged at my lips instead, dark and sharp. “Just seven of you guys consider yourselves strong enough to end I and my kingdom?” I tilted my head, mockery dripping from my tone. “I am highly offended.”
His face twisted with rage. “Kill him!”
They lunged at once, trying to form a united front to put me at a sudden advantage due to their numbers but I stayed unmoved as I watched them.
The first came fast but I was faster. I slid aside like smoke, my fist slamming into his ribs with a crack that echoed between the trees an he crumbled to the floor in pain, another rushed from behind—my dagger flashed, silver slicing clean through flesh. His scream was brief and short as my dagger took his life immediately.
It became a rhythm, a violent dance; Step, strike, dodge. Their claws flashed; my blade struck and ended them one by one. My tattoos glowed faintly, pulsing in time with my heartbeat, with my wolf’s approval. Each kill was swift and decisive.
When the frenzy broke, only one remained—the scarred leader.
He stumbled back in shock, clutching his bleeding side, his eyes wide with something he didn't have on him before when he came all boastful: fear. “You… you should be dead. The witch said you’d die tonight.”
I stepped forward, calm and cold, blood dripping from my blade while I stood nonchalant with a devilish smirk gracing my face. “No. I’m not dead.” My voice was hard and unyielding. “But I am your nightmare.”
One strike, clean and swift as his body hit the dirt with a thud that silenced the forest again.
I stood still, my chest heaving, the copper scent of blood heavy in the air. My wolf finally stayed silent, but the unease inside me did not ease at all and if witches were behind this… then trouble was closer than I thought. There must be a breach in the packs, somewhere an high ranking member is probably selling us out possibly for the sake for financial gain, ultimately man's greed.
I hated this part—the aftermath. Counting bodies. Knowing that each one of my warriors left behind families. Some of the warriors who followed me closely were struck dead unawares by these rogues who somehow knew the route I'd pass before I even passed. I despised needless death, but greed and power made men reckless. Made them blind.
'Pathetic,' my wolf hissed. They never learn.
I cleaned my blade with steady hands, though my jaw ached from how hard I clenched it. The ambush was desperate and sloppy. But their boldness unsettled me. Who was riling them up? Who gave them the courage to challenge me?
I reached my horse at the edge of the woods, pulling parchment and ink from the saddlebag. My handwriting was sharp and deliberate.
Thomas.
I will come to your pack in three days. Prepare yourself. We have to talk.
– Alpha King
I pressed my seal into the wax—a howling wolf under a crescent moon—and handed it to a courier boy waiting by the trees. He took off, his horse vanishing into the night.
But still, I did not move.
Something gnawed at me. The air was thick. Thomas’s lands were too quiet—where were his warriors? His mating ceremony loomed in days, yet shadows whispered around him. My wolf was restless. He didn’t trust Thomas. Neither did I.
My head pounded. I hated this—the killing, the constant threats, the endless cycle of blood. I never asked for this crown, this burden, but I wore it because someone had to protect what others took for granted.
My fingers brushed over the glowing ink of the tattoos along my neck. My gut told me something was coming. Something bigger. Something I couldn’t visualise yet.
The moon dipped lower, clouds rolling in, swallowing the light. The storm wasn’t here yet, but I could feel it, like a hand reaching for me from the darkness.
And I knew—
It was coming straight for me.
