Alaska ✓

1 | Alpha

1 | Alpha
❝I have a theory that selflessness and bravery aren't all that different.❞

In that moment of rage and torment, I do what any other rogue in my position would do: I blindly run head first into battle.

I hurl myself forwards, picking up my sword on the way, unsure of where I'm going. Unsure of what I'm going to do.

The man who stabbed Dylan stands there, power and glory writhing in his grip as he claims his sword from my comrade's fallen body. It was clear to tell that he had no emotional effect after killing an innocent boy.

He gazes up at me, but that's the last thing he does: my sword rips through his body before he can contemplate what's going on.

Like Dylan's, his death had been short. Maybe I should have let it drag out, letting torture rule him for the last few minutes of his tedious, miserable life. I'm not a psychopath, but he killed Dylan. No one killed my best friend and got away with it.

There aren't many pack wolves left, but those that remain stare at me, hands twitching to use their weapons. That's when I pick him out: the alpha.

He was like a thorn on a rose, sticking out like a sore thumb. It was obvious he was in charge because of the power that rolled off him in waves. Not literally, but I could still feel his authority engulf me as I charged towards the corpse of his fallen comrade.

I collect my sword, now encrusted with blood. The alpha stares at me, only ten meters away. I could tell by his calculating look that he was trying to find a way to solve the situation. He would kill me - or at least try to - but he had to figure out how to do so. I had already proved that I was a hard target.

I place my feet so that they're shoulder width apart, sword held protectively across my body. There was no escape for me now: if I ran, the much faster male wolves would indefinitely catch up with me. I had no hope. But I wasn't going to die. Not like Dylan had.

"Why?" I ask the pack through gritted teeth. They all stare at me, dumbfounded that I had had the nerve to speak. "We did nothing to you."

The alpha steps forwards. I step back. "We were sent here by the Alpha King to kill any rogues." The alpha hissed, making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. There was something ominous about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

His face was handsome with a sharp jawline, and a handsome shade of mouse brown that was cropped relatively short. His eyes were a deep blue, almost appearing jet due to the distance. There was a scar above his right eyebrow, although it had begun to fade with time.

I shake my head, almost tempted to laugh. It was obvious that this group of werewolves were not rogues, or any threat. "We're not rogues."

"You are not a pack under the influence of the Alpha King. Therefore, you are rogues." He snarled, making me want to slap his worthless face. It was a shame that he was too far away. "And ruthless, bloodthirsty beasts like yourself have no place in this world."

Anger rises in my chest once more, and this time, I can't flush it down. A growl begins to form on my lips, but I stop myself. If I growled, they would know that I could shift, and I didn't know what they would do to me if they knew the truth.

But the growl continues to develop, and I can't stop it.

Don't growl, Alaska. Don't you dare growl.

I can't help it: I growl.

The alpha raises an eyebrow, but I don't give him any more time to react. It was hard to tell whether they would want to kill me or keep me alive because of my 'gift'.