Chapter 3- Fire of Revenge
1615 Words
The forest did not question him. It moved for him. Branches bent as he passed. Snow split beneath his weight. The night creatures that had hunted in these woods flattened themselves into silence. Nobody wanted to be on the line of the wrath of his fury.
Blood warmed his flank where silver had pierced flesh. The wound should have been agony.
It was not. The true ache was deeper.
Her scent clung to him. And something else underneath, dangerously, irrevocably his.
He leapt over a fallen trunk, landing without sound despite his size. Behind him, his pack kept their distance. No one dared run at his shoulder tonight. Each of their mind filled with confusion about this peculiar behavior of their ‘Alpha’.
Not after what they had seen. Not after what he had done.
He slowed only when the river cut through the forest like a black vein. Ice fractured under his paws as he crossed to the far bank. There, hidden between stone and ancient oak, stood the ruins of what humans once called a monastery.
They believed it was abandoned. They were wrong.
The wolves disappeared into the shadows. He stepped inside.
And shifted…
The transformation tore through him in controlled violence: bones snapping inward, spine cracking, fur receding into flesh. It was not the grotesque convulsion humans imagined. It was precision. Ancient. Perfected over centuries.
When he rose, he was a man.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair damp against his neck. The silver wound burned now, visible as an angry gash along his ribs. He did not wince.
The heavy doors groaned open behind him.
“Alpha.”
Three wolves entered and shifted almost instantly, kneeling as soon as skin replaced fur. Submission was not humiliation for werewolves. It was the law.
The largest of them remained standing.
His Beta.
Kael’s jaw was tight. “You were shot.”
“I noticed.”
Kael’s eyes flicked to the wound, then back to his face. “Silver. It should have healed by now, Alpha…unless…”
“I know.”
A silence stretched between them.
“You could have ended her,” Kael said at last. “Her kind have done nothing but k*lled out kind in cold blood for centuries. And she… among them is the most dangerous.”
The Alpha did not answer immediately. Instead, he walked toward the far wall where torches burned low against stone. The monastery had once housed holy men who prayed to a distant god.
Long before that, it had belonged to wolves, and under his rule, he got it back. They had ruled these forests before cathedrals. Before hunters. Before silver bullets and fear-mongering legends.
Werewolves were not some kind of mutation.
They were descendants.
Chosen by the moon goddess long before humans learned to make fire. They were the pieces and favorite children of the moon goddess on earth.
The Alpha sure didn’t feel like any of it right now.
He placed his palm against the cold stone and felt the pulse beneath it, the heartbeat of his territory. Of his pack. Of bloodlines that stretched back generations across centuries.
“She killed Rowan,” Kael continued quietly.
Rowan.
Young. Reckless. Loyal.
Dead.
The Alpha’s jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“And still you let her live.”
Kael took a step forward, restraint fraying. “Rowan was not some reckless scout, Alpha. He was Councilman Ardan’s son. He sat in war meetings before he was twenty. He negotiated border treaties with the Eastern pack. He…”
“He disobeyed patrol boundaries,” the Alpha said quietly.
Kael’s eyes flashed. “He was blood.”
The word echoed against the stone. Rowan had been more than a soldier.
He was a legacy, heir to a council seat, twin to his other Beta, and his best friend, Rowena. Since they were pups, they have been tearing through these very woods. Rowena was his closest friend: a smart, humble, and sharp soldier.
Whereas Rowan was mischievous, arrogant, and still brilliant. He was bold for his own survival. He should not have attacked a human. He had known the treaty lines.
But none of that matters. He was a pack mate. And pack meant everything.
The heavy monastery doors slammed open. Grief entered before the bodies did. Rowena’s mother’s scream tore through the chamber like a blade.
Rowena shifted mid-stride, bones snapping as she forced human form before reaching the stone floor. Her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders, her eyes already red. Behind her, Councilman Ardan staggered forward, his mate clinging to him as if the world had already collapsed.
“Where is he?” Rowena demanded.
No one answered. Because they didn’t need to.
She saw it in their faces. She saw it in the silver burn along the Alpha’s ribs.
Her breath broke.
“No.”
She fell to her knees, palms striking the cold stone. A sound left her then that did not belong to wolves or humans. A mourning that came from marrow.
“No…no… he is young and stupid, but you wouldn’t let anything happen to him, right? Answer me, Lucien.” Everyone’s breath hitched as she called the Alpha by his name in public.
Lucien moved instinctively toward her, but she shoved him back.
“Don’t.” Her voice trembled, fury lacing through the cracks. “You were with him.”
“I was…”
“You were supposed to be his shield, Alpha.”
The words hit harder than silver. Rowena rose slowly, eyes blazing as she looked up at him.
Not to her Alpha. Her best friend.
“What are you going to do?” she demanded. “You stood beside him since childhood. You swore to protect him. So tell me, what are you going to do?”
Lucien’s hands curled into fists.
“He was our brother, and you let his killer live!” Rowena shouted.
The chamber trembled. Grief thickened into rage. The Councilman lifted his head then, eyes hollow. “This is war.”
The Alpha stepped forward. The room was silent instantly. Power pressed outward from him like an unseen force, commanding stillness. Even Rowena’s ragged breathing quieted under it.
“I did not let them live,” he said at last. Every gaze snapped to him.
“They killed Rowan.” His voice did not rise. It hardened. “And I could have killed all of them.”
The torches crackled softly. Shadows flickered along stone walls carved with symbols older than cathedrals.
“But death would have been mercy.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
“I have tolerated the hunters for decades now. I have honored borders that they break without consequence. I have buried wolves and answered provocation with restraint.”
His jaw tightened.
“That restraint ends.”
Rowena’s tears slowed. Councilman Ardan straightened. Even Kael stilled.
“They will live,” the Alpha continued, each word deliberate, “long enough to understand what they have done.”
Inside him, something else stirred. It wasn’t the vengeance. It was… the bond.
He crushed it ruthlessly. No one in this room would see weakness. No one would smell it. He won’t let it stop him from avenging his best friend’s loss. His eyes were bloodshot.
Rowan had not been foolish enough to stray that far south without cause. Someone had wanted hunters and wolves to collide. Someone had succeeded.
“This was orchestrated,” the Alpha said.
Kael’s head snapped up. “You think Rowan was lured?”
“I know he was.”
Silence fell again…this time colder. Hunters were a problem. But they were not the only ones.
Outside, the wind shifted. He felt it again.
That subtle wrongness at the edges of his territory.
Rogues gathering where they should not.
Vampires crossing borders have been respected for centuries.
Witches whispering in towns that once feared their own shadows.
The world was stirring.
And now the Goddess had placed a hunter in his path.
Coincidence did not exist in their kind.
Councilman Ardan’s voice was rough. “My son deserves proper rites.”
“He will have them,” the Alpha said. “I will get this body back, but for now, we should pay our respect to him.”
—
They burned Rowan’s things before dawn. They bury the body but burn the things for the eternal peace of their family.
The pyre rose high in the clearing beyond the monastery. Logs stacked in an ancient formation. Sigils carved into bark. Silver was removed from his body with careful reverence.
Rowena stood closest to the flames. She did not weep now.
She watched.
Kael stood beside her.
Shoulders rigid.
Lucien stepped forward last.
The fire caught quickly.
Flames licked upward, devouring clothes, his sports gear, and then photos. Smoke twisted toward the moon like a final offering.
“We return him to the Goddess,” Lucien said.
The pack bowed their heads.
“He was a warrior wolf before he was a man. He will rise again in blood and memory.”
The fire roared higher.
Heat illuminated their faces: grief, fury, loyalty.
Lucien’s gaze remained steady.
Hunters believed silver made them powerful. They did not understand power. Power was patience. Power was territory. Power was choosing when to destroy.
The wind shifted again. He lifted his head slightly.
“Find who drove Rowan’s patrol toward the hunter line,” he ordered quietly.
Kael nodded once.
“And the killer?” Rowena asked, voice hollow now.
Lucien’s eyes reflected firelight.
“They will learn.” The flames cracked violently as Rowan’s pyre collapsed inward. “That monsters do not spare hunters without reason.”
- Writer
