Hunting Her Alpha

Alder

NINE YEARS LATER

“So, Aldersey, you never really told me what happened to your parents,” Cathy says, c*****g her head like she actually cares. She’s my ‘sister’ at the foster care home—not that I see her that way. If we’re being honest, she’s more of an accidental roommate with a voice that never runs out of battery.

“They died,” I reply flatly.

“Yeah, but how? I mean, it’s been nine years and I barely know anything about you. You’re always so quiet and reserved. I mean, we’re practically sisters since we’ve been together this long, but you don’t even treat me like one.”

Ah, emotional manipulation. Nice move, Cathy. Points for effort.

“They were attacked,” I say, “by wild animals.”

Her eyes go wide like I just told her the plot twist in a horror movie. “Oh my god. That must’ve been horrible. Were they hunters or something?”

“Not really. The animals broke into our house. They told me to run, so I did.”

“That’s so sad. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.” Not that it makes a difference.

“Were the animals ever caught?”

“No.” And I doubt they ever will be.

During the autopsy, the forensic team found strange animal hairs on my parents’ bodies. They ran test after test but couldn’t match the DNA to any known species. Eventually, they gave up and settled on a convenient theory—wolves. They said the hair was close enough. I didn’t argue. Why would I? They were right... sort of.

My parents were killed by wolves, all right—just not the regular kind. These wolves could walk on two legs and speak in full sentences when they weren’t ripping throats out. I kept my mouth shut during the investigation. Told them I had no idea. The case closed quietly, and I’ve been stuck in this group-home circus ever since.

Not for much longer though.

In two days, I’m out of this hellhole. For good.

Don’t get me wrong—my foster parents are decent people. Sweet. Loving. Boring. But they’re nothing like my real parents. And the longer I stay here, the longer I postpone what I was put on this Earth to do—revenge.

I’m leaving to become a werewolf hunter. Laugh all you want, but they’re real. I’ve read every obscure book and article on the internet to prove it. They exist. Somewhere in the shadows.

There’s one Hunter in particular who stands out. No one knows what he—or she—looks like. They appear only when they want to. No name. No face. Just stories. It’s all very mysterious and borderline ridiculous, but for some reason, I feel drawn to this phantom. Like finding them will be the key to unlocking everything.

And so, in two days, I leave. I find the Hunter. I train. I avenge my parents. Simple.

I clench my fists, jaw tight with anger.

“…Or what do you think?” Cathy’s voice cuts through my thoughts like nails on a chalkboard.

“Huh? Sorry, did you say something?”

“Yeah! I’ve been talking for the past five minutes!” she snaps.

“Oops,” I say, flashing her a sheepish smile. “How about you summarize the whole thing for me?”

“I said I like Jason. But now I think I like Gabriel too, and I don’t know who to choose. Gabriel’s sweet, but Jason’s a bad boy. I mean, I *do* like bad boys, but Gabriel has these eyes and Jason has this voice and—”

I nod, tuning her out as she launches into yet another tragic soap opera of her own making.

“So, what do you think? Who should I go for?” she finally asks.

“I just have one question,” I reply.

“Go on.”

“Who are Jason and Gabriel?”

“You don’t know who they are?!” she shrieks like I just insulted her ancestors.

“Not a clue,” I say, shaking my head.

“We are classmates, Aldersey!” she yells, scandalized.

Oh. Right. I keep forgetting that part.

“Sorry,” I shrug and return to my fantasy novel. Way more interesting than Cathy’s boy drama.

“Gosh, sometimes I wish I had a different kind of foster sister,” she groans.

Well, lucky you, Cathy. In two days—Monday, to be precise—I’m out of here.

-Two Days Later…**

“Why’s your backpack heavier than usual?” Cathy asks suspiciously.

“More work to be done today,” I reply, breathless as I adjust the weight.

She narrows her eyes. “You’re a weird one.”

“I get that a lot,” I say with a grin, stepping toward the bedroom door. “Let’s go. Don’t want to keep our *parents* waiting.”

Downstairs, my foster dad eyes my backpack too. Seriously, is this National Backpack Inspection Day?

“Why’s your backpack so heavy?” he asks.

“More work to be done,” I repeat.

“Let me help you with that.”

“NO!” I yell, jumping back like he tried to touch a bomb—which, to be fair, isn’t too far off. The bag holds everything I need to disappear.

They all stare at me like I just confessed to murder. I sigh.

“Sorry. I just really… want to carry my bag myself,” I mumble.

My foster dad blinks, then smiles awkwardly. “No, no, it’s all right. I understand.”

I smile back—an actual smile—which stuns him even more.

“Thank you,” I whisper, then step outside.

“She’s a weird one, isn’t she?” I hear my foster mom say as the door shuts behind me.

Few minutes later, we’re all in the car. Foster dad’s driving. Cathy’s in the passenger seat pretending I don’t exist. Business as usual.

At school, she hops out and struts off like she’s auditioning for a teen drama reboot. Queen of the populars. Of course, no one knows we live under the same roof. She tells people I’m just a neighborhood charity case her parents give rides to. Charming, really.

But I’m not bothered. Let her tell the whole world I’m an alien. In four hours, I’ll be gone.

Four hours. That’s when lunch break starts. That’s when I vanish. By the time anyone realizes I’ve skipped out, I’ll be halfway to nowhere. I just need the perfect plan to slip past security without being seen.

The countdown begins.

The security guard is a tough one—not the kind you can charm with a few sweet words or a candy bar. Trust me, I tried. Stone-faced and all business. So, I need a different plan. Something smarter. Riskier. Maybe even borderline insane. But hey, I've never been the type to back down from a challenge. I always find a way. One way or another, I make things work for me.

As I head toward my locker, mentally calculating my escape route, the most famous guy in school struts over like he's starring in his own movie. Perfect timing.

"Hey," he says, voice smooth, casual—too casual.

I ignore him. Just like I do every single day. The guy's persistent, I'll give him that. I’ve never once replied to him since I stepped foot in this school. You’d think he’d get the hint by now, but apparently, Chris—if that’s even his name—isn't exactly the brightest star in the sky.

Honestly, I’m one eye twitch away from snapping at him. People just don’t seem to understand that all I want is to be left alone. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes. To them, I’m the weird girl. The loner. The one who only speaks when absolutely necessary—and even then, it's usually just to teachers or the occasional tolerable human. No one knows a thing about me, and that’s exactly how I like it. Thankfully, Cathy’s kept her mouth shut. Small miracles.

"You know," Chris begins, still tailing me, "I won’t stop talking to you until you finally find me worthy of being spoken to."

Cute. Still ignoring him.

"Alder," he says, stepping right in front of me now. Bold move. "Talk to me. A 'hi' or 'hello' would be much appreciated."

I raise an eyebrow and give him a deadpan look. Honestly, I’m kind of impressed he even knows my name.

"What can I do to get you to talk to me?" he asks, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he’s dealing with a particularly stubborn math problem.

Well, since I’m leaving for good today, I guess I could do him the honor. One last act of charity before I disappear.

"Why are you so desperate for me to talk to you? What do you hope to gain?" I ask, tone flat and unimpressed.

His mouth drops open like I just declared I was an alien from Mars. “You just... You just spoke to me.”

"Yes, I did. Any problem?"

“Ye—No. No, no problem at all. I just thought you’d never speak to me until we graduated.”

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” I shrug, turn to my locker, and punch in the code. It opens with a soft click, and I grab the books I need before slamming it shut.

“So... would you like to hang out sometime? I promise it’ll be fun,” he says, way too hopeful.

Chill, Romeo. You're skipping chapters.

“I won’t be free, sorry.”

“But I didn’t even say when.”

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever date you pick, I won’t be available.”

“So... is that like, an indirect way of saying no?”

I flash him a grin. “What do you think?”

With that, I turn and head up the stairs to class, leaving him behind, staring after me like I just flipped his whole world upside down.

Good.

Sure! Here's your rewritten scene in present tense with "Hadrian" changed to "Hayden":

---

It’s lunch break, and I still haven’t figured out a way to escape without being seen. I need a distraction—something strong enough to grab the guard’s attention.

I look around the cafeteria, racking my brain for ideas, and then—like a lightbulb going off—I come up with the perfect plan. At least, I think it’s perfect.

“FOOD FIGHT!” I yell and hurl my meal at someone sitting across from me.

The cafeteria falls silent. Everyone turns to stare at me like I’ve lost my mind… and honestly, maybe I have.

Then someone across the room yells, “FOOD FIGHT!” and flings their tray of food at a friend nearby. That friend laughs and tosses their meal right back, and just like that, chaos erupts.

While the guard and a few teachers rush to calm the madness, I spot my opportunity.

“HEY!” the guard shouts, advancing toward me.

“Shït!” I hiss, grabbing my backpack and darting out of the cafeteria.

“HEY!” he yells again, now running after me. I sprint as fast as I can. In no time, I’m out the school gates and racing through the woods.

“COME BACK!!” he screams, but when I glance over my shoulder, I see him bent over, gasping for air. I can’t help but laugh and push forward.

After running for more than thirty minutes, deep into the woods, I finally stop. Placing my hand on the trunk of a tree, I bend over to catch my breath.

I doubt the security guard would follow me this far out, but I’m almost certain he’s already called the police. They’re probably searching for me now.

“Just five minutes and I’ll be out of here,” I murmur and sit down on the ground, munching on a protein bar.

Finally. I never thought I’d escape that foster home before turning eighteen. It felt impossible. But I didn’t give up. I’m free now—free from Cathy and everyone in that damn school.

As I chew, I hear a branch snap. I pause, holding my breath, listening. Silence. Maybe I’m just imagining things.

I shrug and take another bite.

Then—another sound. A low growl. Close. Very close.

Slowly, I drop the protein bar and turn around.

A Sandy Brown Wolf—no, a beast the size of a full-grown grizzly—stands behind me, its blood-red eyes fixed on mine.

It growls again, baring its teeth.

It’s a Werewolf. It has to be. It looks just like the ones that killed my parents—way too big to be a normal wolf.

Gripping my backpack, I slowly back away, eyes never leaving the beast.

It growls again, and I gulp hard.

From everything I’ve read, Werewolves are incredibly fast—fast as Vampires. There’s no way I can outrun this thing. I need a plan. A distraction. Something. Anything.

I can’t die. Not yet. If I die now, I’ll never avenge my parents.

Still, the Wolf doesn’t move. Just stares. Growling.

Is it waiting for me to run?

I guess there’s only one way to find out.

I turn around—and run.

A second later, I hear paws pounding the ground.

I glance back. It’s chasing me. Fast.

I push myself harder. Jumping over a log.

It crashes right through the log, turning it to splinters.

A sharp splinter slices into my leg, and I trip.

I try to get up, but the splinter digs deeper. I scream and fall again.

Looking up, I see the Wolf leap at me, jaws wide open—just like the ones that lunged at my parents.

This is it. I brace myself, ready for the end.

But just before it reaches me, another massive shape bursts from behind a tree and slams into it.

This second Wolf is even bigger. Grey-furred with dark eyes.

The Sandy Wolf shakes itself and attacks. But the Grey Wolf dodges and sinks its teeth into the other’s side.

The Sandy Wolf yelps.

The Grey Wolf bites its neck, slamming it to the ground—pinning it in a bowing position.

Then, in one swift move, it rips off the Sandy Wolf’s head and tosses it aside.

I stare, horrified.

The Grey Wolf killed its own kind. Packs fight, sure. But lone wolves?

The creature turns to me, blood dripping from its fangs.

It steps closer and leans down, sniffing my neck.

Up close, it’s even more massive. I have to crane my neck just to see its face.

It stares into my eyes—like it sees into my soul.

Then it glances at the splinter in my leg and growls low.

And just like that—it vanishes. Gone.

I gasp, finally breathing again. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath.

If I’m this terrified just being near a Werewolf, how the hell do I expect to avenge my parents?

Groaning, I try to stand. Pain shoots up my leg and I collapse.

“Need a hand?” a deep voice asks behind me.

I turn as best as I can. A tall, broad-chested guy stands there, legs apart, hands in his pockets. His long brown hair is pulled into a ponytail. The sunlight blinds me.

He steps forward.

I finally see him clearly. He has small grey eyes, a clean-shaven, triangle-shaped face, and a sharp low fade haircut that defines his features.

Weird. I swear he had a ponytail a second ago.

One of his ears sports a black pin earring. Around his neck hangs a diamond Cuban chain.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”

He walks over to stand in front of me. “You don’t look fine.”

“I said I’m fine.”

He hums. “Then prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That you’re fine.”

I scowl. He flashes a cocky smile. “Go on.”

I sigh and try to get up again. Pain lances through my leg, and I drop with a groan.

He shakes his head and chuckles, then leans down to scoop me into his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” he replies, carrying me effortlessly.

“I don’t even know you. You could be a monster for all I know.”

“Like a Werewolf?” He raises a brow.

“What do you mean?”

He nods toward the headless Wolf body and its severed head, then starts walking deeper into the woods with me in his arms.

“Are you a Werewolf?” I gasp.

If he is, I swear I’m stabbing him with the splinter in my leg before he turns.

He laughs. “No. I’m human. Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess.”

He leans in and whispers into my ear, “I’m a Werewolf Hunter.”

My eyes widen.

That explains the muscles. Wait—he’s a Hunter?

Maybe he knows *him*.

“Can I ask you something?” I say.

“Sure.”

“Do you know who Shadow is?”

“The mysterious Werewolf Hunter no one shuts up about? Yeah, I know him. Why?”

“Can you take me to him?”

He snorts. “No.”

“Why not?!” I whine.

“Didn’t you hear the stories? He finds you—you don’t find him.”

“I know.” I sigh, disappointed.

“Why are you looking for him anyway?”

“Because I want to become a Werewolf Hunter too.”

“You? A Hunter?” He snorts again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” I scowl.

“Nothing. Why do you want to become one?”

“None of your business!” I snap.

He chuckles.

“Let’s make a deal,” he says. “You tell me why you want to be a Werewolf Hunter, and I’ll take you to the Shadow.”

“You know him or her?”

“It’s a *he*—and yeah, I know him.”

He gently sets me down with my back against a tree and crouches in front of me.

“If you take me to the Shadow, I’ll tell you why,” I say.

“Nice try,” he smirks. “Doesn’t work that way.”

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” I groan.

“My name is Hayden,” he finally says, lips curling into a smirk. “But most people know me as the Shadow.”

My eyes widen in shock.