Alpha Saga: How I Met Your Daddy

Chapter 1

OLIVER

Rachel was the big sister I always knew had my back. Many of the words I carried with me into the world, I first heard from her tongue. When I was in school, confused, angry, suffocating under the weight of having to hide my werewolf nature from everyone, Rachel was there. Every f*cking time. Like a guard on duty, she watched over me. And in a way, she still did.

There was a difference between the love and support you received from parents and the kind you got from a sibling. Especially at young ages. How do I explain this? When you’re young, it’s easier, much easier, to believe that a sibling is on your side. Parents love you, yes, but siblings choose you.

“Uncle Oliver says he’s going tomorrow,” Hailey announced to her father, her tone pitched just right; half statement, half plea.

John glanced at me before turning to his daughter. “Hailey, your uncle says he has to go. But he’ll visit again. I promise.”

I grinned as the scene played out in front of me as though I weren’t even present. Hailey was Rachel’s second child. Her first was Tony, a teenage boy less than a year away from finishing his secondary education. You see, whenever I looked at my sister’s family, a quiet joy settled within me. Not just because she was my sister—though that alone was reason enough to want the best for her—but because it felt good to witness something good. And family, despite leaving mine behind as a kid, was a good thing.

When Rachel joined us in the kitchen, Hailey repeated herself, this time directing her plea at her mother. She stared at me, lips pushed into a dramatic pout.

“Your uncle has somewhere to go,” Rachel said gently to the five-year-old. “Don’t worry. He’ll call when he’s away. You hear me?”

Her father soon led her away to get ready for school, leaving Rachel and me alone.

“You can’t blame her, you know,” Rachel said, making coffee. “You arrived late yesterday evening, and you’re leaving tomorrow. Oliver, you know you’re the kids’ favourite.”

“You sure about that?” I asked, suppressing a grin. “Tony’s favourite thing seems to be his phone.”

She waved a dismissive hand as she passed me a cup of coffee. “He’s a teenager in this times. Everyone knows their phones come first. No debate there.”

We laughed.

Both of us knew why I was here. But the truth was, neither of us was eager to dive into the conversation hovering between us like a cloud.

The problem itself was simple, singular.

Werewolf hunters.

Nothing else.

There had been over thirteen deaths in the past year. At first, none of us wanted to make anything of it because it sounded unbelievable. Silly, even. What was this, some book? A goddamn movie? We didn’t believe such a thing could exist. How could humans hunt something they didn’t even know was real?

For as long as anyone could remember, werewolves had lived in Moonclave, a realm gifted by the Moon Goddess herself to preserve our kind. As kids we were constantly reminded that Moonclave had everything; safety, abundance, order. There was no reason to even contemplate leaving.

But some did.

To leave Moonclave, one needed a moonstone—a grey stone that glowed white under the night sky. Moonstones were impossibly rare. At some point, people even claimed they no longer existed outside of the Treasury where the remaining ones were locked away, guarded by the Supreme Alpha.

People had different reasons for wanting to flee Moonclave. Some had dreams the town couldn’t contain; beautiful as it was, Moonclave was just a town, inhabited by a little over four thousand werewolves. Some wanted more. They wanted the world, and somehow, they found moonstones, slipped through the barrier, and crossed into the human realm.

While fleeing Moonclave was clearly never easy. Since the time I was about seven or so, there were always stories here and there—twenty, maybe fifty escapees at a time. In the early times, the Supreme Alpha sent men after them. Few were brought back, many were killed, the rest were never found. Eventually, the searches stopped. The focus shifted instead to ensuring no more moonstones existed, so that the werewolves in Moonclave remained there.

The good news? Earth wasn’t dangerous. Not at first. The escapees learned how to blend in, to hide among humans, to disappear into the crowd. They were just as safe as they had been back home.

Everything was fine.

Until about a year ago.

The first death was an old werewolf woman—Abigail Thatcher—clubbed to death in her own garage. On her bare back, carved deep into flesh, were the words: We will come for you all.

That was the moment fear returned to Earth-bound werewolves. People knew about us, and they didn’t want us alive.

“Oliver,” Rachel said, pulling me from my thoughts as she held her coffee steady in both hands, “I know you don't want to talk about the deaths. And I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But it’s the truth and deep down, you know it.”

I narrowed my eyes slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“We have only two choices,” she said, her tone calm but unyielding. “Either we build a pack here with the escapees, or we go back home. You know this.”

I stood, turning away. “There isn’t much we can do,” I said, rubbing a hand over my face.

“But we have to protect ourselves. One way or another.”

“Isn’t this… an overreaction?” I asked after a pause. “Imagine everything we went through. Everything we left behind just to live a normal life. Imagine giving all of that up now.”

And like clockwork, the memory surfaced.

That night.

It was dark but clear as day in my mind. I can recall hearing her tiptoe into my room, packed bags clutched in her hands. At the time I was days away from turning eleven. Rachel was already around twenty.

“Ollie,” she whispered, tapping my arm gently. “Wake up. No, no, no, don’t be loud. Keep your voice down.”

I had been exhausted. “Rachel, wha-what is it? I’m tired as...”

The look on her face chased sleep from my eyes.

“Is something wrong?” I asked. “Did someone die?”

She let out a short, nervous laugh. “No. No one died. But I need to ask you something important. And I want you to know… you don’t have to say yes. Just listen to your heart.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Do you want to leave Moonclave with me?”

Yes, I kid you not, it was that simple. Even now, I could remember thinking she had lost her mind. Leaving Moonclave was impossible. There was no moon stone left. Everyone knew that. And even if there was—where would we go?

“Ollie,” she said urgently, taking my hands, “I’m not joking. I got a moonstone, there's a couple of us ready to make a run for it. But you need to understand something. Ollie, if you say yes, you will never see Mum and Dad again. Ever.”

My heart skipped. Breathing suddenly felt optional. Fear crawled through me, sharp and relentless.

Never see my parents again.

I loved them. Both of them. The thought alone felt like damage, like something breaking quietly inside my chest.

And yet, with terrifying clarity, I heard myself say, “Yes, Rachel. Yes. Let's go.”