Exhausted, Rejected And Alone

Shift

Eager to capture their prey, and hopefully get out before offending the ruler of the territory, the three Red Ridge warriors lunged forward to intercept her, closing the distance with predatory speed, but before they could lay a single paw on Rexiana’s silver-white hide, the temperature in the forest suddenly plunged. The wind died completely, and the rustle of dry leaves ceased.

​Then an explosive, bone-shattering roar echoed through the dead trees. The raw, oppressive weight of a high-tier Alpha’s aura slammed down onto the clearing like a physical force, forcing the three wolves into instant submission as they lowered their heads, groaning under the immense pressure. ​Rexiana’s weak wolf stumbled, her legs giving out as she collapsed onto the ash-covered soil.

​Through blurred vision, she saw the darkness of the woods part. Stepping silently into the clearing was a towering, jet-black wolf with eyes like burning amber.

The approaching alpha granted the intruders no chance to explain, he simply lunged into a brutal assault. Yet even as he fought off the threat, he kept a vigilant eye trained on the white wolf in the dirt, treating every foreign soul in his territory as a deadly threat.

​The fight was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Carl made short work of two of the Red Ridge wolves, his lethal jaws leaving no room for mercy, while the third badly injured warrior managed to scramble away into the brush. Carl gave chase for a short distance before turning back; a crippled wolf running for his life posed no real threat to the Blood Moon Pack.

​Slipping behind a fallen oak, Carl shifted back into his human form and pulled a pair of dark shorts from a hidden emergency stash bag. Broad-shouldered, scarred, and formidable, he stepped back into the clearing toward the collapsed white wolf lying at the foot of a dead log. He had no interest in her motives, but he knew she was in immediate danger.

​"Shift," Carl commanded, his deep voice slicing through the heavy quiet. Since she was not part of his pack, he could not hear her thoughts in wolf form, and he wanted answers before tossing her off his land.

Rexiana’s hazel eyes flicked up at him. She knew that shifting meant being completely naked and vulnerable before a strange Alpha, but she had nothing left to lose, her pride had long been shattered by her mate and the entire Storm Fang Pack. What's one more wolf looking at me with disgust? she thought bitterly.

​Slowly, the silver-white wolf melted back into a pale, bruised woman lying against the ash-colored earth, her dark auburn hair spilling over her shoulders to barely obscure her skin.

​"Who are you, and why are you on my land?" Carl demanded, his tone cold enough to freeze the air between them. "Are you leading an ambush this way?"

​Rexiana let out a soft, hollow sigh. What excuse could she possibly give a man like him? Even if she told the truth, he wouldn't believe a word.

​"Please forgive my intrusion, Alpha. I was merely passing through," Rexiana offered carefully, leaving it at that. She made no move to stand. Her throat burned like dry ash, but she kept her gaze glued to the ash-colored dirt, terrified to look up and see the exact same disgust Clint had worn for five agonizing years. She was simply waiting for the killing blow, ready to welcome death so long as it happened far from Storm Fang. Having witnessed the savage efficiency with which he had butchered her pursuers, she was almost surprised he hadn't torn her apart already, perhaps he preferred executing trespassers in human form.

​"Passing through?" Carl scoffed, his shadow falling over her. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't end you where you lie."

​"I... I don't deserve your mercy, Alpha," she rasped, her voice cracking from pure exhaustion. "I only have one request... please, make it quick."

​Carl froze. In all his years as the feared God of Death, no one had ever begged for execution like it was a gift. Suspicion flared in his chest, was this a ploy? A trap to catch him off guard? Yet, as he leaned in, his sharp senses caught the unmistakable, metallic scent of raw, soul-crushing despair, dragging up dark echoes of his own buried trauma.

​Unable to execute a woman who offered no defense, Carl forced himself to open his mind-link to his Beta. 'Chloe. Bring the black SUV to the western border grid. Bring a set of women's clothes, too.'

​He convinced himself it was nothing more than a momentary act of charity. He would cover her, drop her off in the nearest human town, and leave her fate in the hands of the universe.

​When Chloe arrived, she expected to find her reclusive twin with a female companion, only to meet a grim, blood-soaked scene: two slaughtered wolves lay broken in the brush, and farther back, a pale, battered woman rested motionless in the dirt at Carl's feet.

​"Goddess, what happened here? Is she even breathing?" Chloe gasped, throwing open the van door and rushing over to press two fingers against the woman's neck. She shot her brother a scathing glare. "Did you break her neck and call me for body disposal?"

​"I didn't even touch her," Carl growled, throwing his hands up in sharp irritation. "She collapsed on her own. And since when do I need your help to dispose of a body?"

​Chloe ignored her brother and just wrapped the woman in her own trench coat, noticing the severe bruising along her ribs and the soft, weeping sound coming from her chest.

​"I'm taking her home so Marion can treat her," Chloe declared firmly.

Carl stepped into her path, his eyes narrowing. "You will do no such thing. Take her to a hospital outside our borders. Blood Moon is not taking in a stranger."

​"And I will send her away after making sure she's okay," Chloe countered, stepping around him toward the van.

​"Besides, she won't survive a drive to the border in this state!" Chloe snapped.

"That shouldn't be of concern to us. If she dies, that's her fate." ​Carl warned, his jaw clenching as he unleashed his Alpha aura, a wave of raw power meant to force absolute obedience. "Take her to town outside the pack, that is an order."

But Chloe didn't even flinch. She opened the van door, gently placing the fragile woman across the back seat, before turning to mock him with a smirk. "Your Alpha tone doesn't work on me, brother."

​"If she turns out to be a spy, would you take responsibility?" Carl growled, his voice laced with venomous suspicion.

​"I will. Now get out of my way." Chloe jumped into the driver's seat and slammed the door, speeding off into the territory while Carl stood alone in the quiet, dusty woods. He swore under his breath, wondering what possessed him to call his sister in the first place. Now, he would have to spend his days guarding his pack against a dying stranger who might very well be an assassin sent to end him.

***

Carl Dalton had not always been a hollow, bitter man. Eight years ago, the light in his life was snuffed out when his mate died during childbirth, taking their unborn child with her. For eight agonizing years, toxic guilt had devoured him, a relentless reminder that his desperate desire for an heir had sent the woman he loved to an early grave. He locked his heart away and drove almost everyone from his life. Only a handful of insanely stubborn friends and family remained, enduring his ice-cold disdain. Neighboring territories, however, could not handle his ruthless volatility. They stopped inviting him to regional gatherings altogether; his presence invariably ended in bloodshed, earning him the terrifying title God of Death. Soon, every pack within a thousand miles knew to steer well clear of the Blood Moon border and its lethal inhabitants.

​By sheer coincidence, only a narrow slice of unclaimed land separated Blood Moon from Storm Fang. Yet wolves from either side rarely crossed paths and were far from friendly, a tension reflected by their Alphas' mutual hostility. On a few rare occasions over the years, Rexiana and Carl had almost crossed paths, yet somehow, neither had ever truly looked at the other.

​That afternoon, Carl was on his usual patrol, brooding in solitude through the desolate, ash-covered brush of his territory. When his heightened senses caught an intruder breaching his border, his immediate reaction was pure, unadulterated rage. Someone had dared to disturb his quiet moment with the sheer audacity to trespass on Blood Moon soil?

​He shifted effortlessly into his massive, shadowy wolf, vaulting over the thickets to lay an ambush. He waited like a phantom predator, ready to rip the trespasser to shreds.

​Then, a trembling, silver-white wolf darted forward then collapsed through the brush. She breathed in ragged gasps, her ribs heaving as her legs gave out beneath her weight. Carl’s wolf coiled to spring, but a fresh scent stopped him: three unfamiliar wolves slinking through his trees.

​Fools marching straight into his lair were begging to be slaughtered, and he was hardly a host to refuse them. Questions were a wasted effort. They had breached his border, and that was all the conviction he needed.

​​Carl prioritized the hunters. A shattered female wasn't going anywhere. ​With a fierce, earth-shaking snarl that paralyzed the forest, the massive black wolf erupted from the shadows obliterating the lead wolf instantly, the sheer impact breaking the wolf's spine before they even hit the dirt. The remaining two scrambled backward in absolute horror, realizing far too late that the terrifying rumors about the Blood Moon Alpha were an understatement.

But Carl gave them no quarter. In a storm of dark fur, lethal claws, and flashing fangs, he decimated the second intruder with brutal, practiced efficiency. The third, dripping blood from a torn shoulder, scrambled wildly into the thicket. Carl gave chase just long enough to ensure the warrior was fleeing for his life, incapable of posing a threat. When he strolled back, the clearing was dead silent once more, painted in the fresh blood of those who dared cross his line.

​Now in his human form, Carl stood over the scene in a pair of dark shorts, his chest heaving as his amber eyes burned with residual bloodlust.

​Slowly, he turned his heavy, lethal gaze toward the corner of the clearing, where the exhausted white wolf lay collapsed in the dirt, watching him with wide, terrified eyes.

Carl stepped closer, his broad shoulders blocking out the faint sunlight filtering through the dead branches. His gaze remained cold, devoid of sympathy as he waited for her to scramble to her feet and run.

​Instead, Rexiana stayed still on the ash-covered soil. Her ribs expanded in shallow, painful gasps, her front paws trembling against the earth. She didn't attack, nor does she try to run. She simply lay there, waiting for her death.