Alpha Henry:
The first time I experienced war, I was sixteen and my father had taken an arrow to the throat to give me enough time to s***h the last pesky enemy.
Maybe it was the fact that I stood there in the now empty battlefield, staring at his dead body even after his eyes now laid wide, soulless.
Or maybe it was sheer pain that came with seeing my mother's eyes light up with pain as she roared with tears.
But that day, something snapped in me. Something that made me hate the prospect of war so vehemently.
" The meeting should have started an hour ago, why is nothing happening?" I said, staring around the table, looking at the faces of alphas, each of them now smelling the inevitable prospect of war that lingered in the air.
Alpha Malcolm got up, his eyes as wary as mine. I knew
