The Werewolf Hunter’s Forbidden Alpha

It’s often easy to overlook things that aren’t expressly told to us - that much, Ria knew better than most. After all, her entire career revolved around it, and there was a single, simple reason that she was the best: Ria knew better than to just accept the status quo as the truth, when so many other alternatives could be the true explanation. Now, many people would consider her to be a conspiracy theorist. Honestly, Ria herself couldn’t fault them; if she hadn’t grown up the slave of a werewolf pack, perhaps she wouldn’t believe that the beasts exist, either. After all, werewolves valued their privacy a great deal, and they were happy to let the general population just believe that their packs were little more than well-organised cults. The paperwork when a werewolf went rogue and attacked a village otherwise would have been never-ending. Nonetheless, that wasn’t to say that there weren’t other people who didn’t know that werewolves existed. Lone wolves, of course, were a major cause of that; Ria shuddered at the thought of the poor husbands and wives who, on their wedding night, found themselves sleeping in bed with a hairy, shaggy mutt, branded as their own by the very same beast, rather than the person they’d married the night before. Needless to say, after that, it would be hard for people not to believe in werewolves - or otherwise consider themselves to have gone clinically insane and book themselves into the nearest hospital for support. But they weren’t wrong. Though perhaps it was easier for some to believe they had lost it, the reality was simple: werewolves, though rare, were a part of everyday life, and in fact, they were often behind some of the biggest and most powerful companies and corporations in the world. Werewolf families were old, very old. That came with two main complications. One - they were very wealthy, which meant they had access to all of the best lawyers and security (helping keep their secret hidden). Plus, this also meant that loyalty ran deep in werewolf packs, and any escapees were usually desperate by that point. Such was the situation Ria found herself in now, pursuing a rogue wolf who’d run off from the pack. Now, most of her work came from concerned individuals who’d seen a suspiciously smart wolf around their property and had put two and two together before contacting her. Ria’s job was then simple: deal with the problem, any means necessary. For this purpose, Ria’s policy was simple: if she didn’t catch the wolf, there was no charge. It was the ideal way to encourage those who were still unsure of whether werewolves were real to trust her. But, of course, her success rate was second to none; in fact, over the last year, she’d only had one case that she didn’t succeed with. And, in fairness, the client later reported that the lurking wolf had vanished anyway - so, chances are its pack had recovered him before she’d had a chance to. Today, however… This was different. Today wasn’t a typical dispatch job. No, this was something a lot more serious, something that sent a chill down her spine: this job was to catch the wolf alive. There were only two types of people who wanted the terrors captured live. Of course, there were those who didn’t like suffering, and as far as Ria was concerned, that was fair enough (not that she agreed; with all the terror they caused, the werewolves deserved their comeuppance in her eyes). But then there was the other category: the pack themselves. These jobs were a rarity, and for good reason; Ria was renowned for her abilities, and while she’d never had the (dis)pleasure of meeting the packs in person, she had no doubt that the pack leaders knew of her infamous skill and success rate. So, of course, when the packs themselves did reach out, it was a big deal. They didn’t want to open themselves up to her, needless to say. The job itself hadn’t come with many details, but then again, that didn’t surprise her. Instructions were simple: subdue the target by any non-lethal means, and strap it up. The client would handle collection and disposal. That said it all, as far as Ria was concerned. This was a big case, and she was tracking a rogue wolf. But not just any old rogue - one that the pack wanted back. Those were big deals. With the moonlight slipping through the trees ever so subtly, the conditions could hardly be more perfect for a hunt. And Ria was grateful; she knew it was going to be a tougher case than usual. Taking in a deep breath, Ria let the scent of werewolf flit over her senses, taking it in deeply. There was something odd about this particular wolf; he (or she) was definitely in animal form, there was no doubt of that, but their scent didn’t give the impression of a high-up pack member. An omega, almost certainly. Potentially even an unranked wolf. That in itself made her curious, as any old omega wouldn’t usually be worth the pack’s time and energy (and risk) to recover. It must have known something, Ria assumed. Perhaps a servant who had overheard an important conversation (her interest piqued at the possibilities there), or maybe it was a she-wolf from the Alpha’s harem? Wolves were loyal, no doubt of that, but the human side of the Alphas often left them lustful for many mates on the side. That didn’t make harem members any less prized, though, omegas or not. Ria allowed her senses to hone in further, attuned to the subtlest nuances of the night. She began walking towards the forest, moving silently; the werewolf would of course pick up on the noise before long, but while she had the element of surprise on her side (and the wind direction in her favour), she’d make use of it. The scent grew stronger, and it was clear Ria was on the right path. The scent was very underwhelming; Ria often enjoyed tracking the higher ranked wolves with their irresistible scents, but this wolf’s scent was really quite bland. It smelled rather woody - not the most helpful in a forest - but with little else. And then she saw it, quietly stood before her, not even noticing her approach. The rogue's fur rustled against the underbrush. Its tail was clamped, and its ears drooped; it almost looked as if it had given up already. With each step, Ria closed the distance, her silver-forged blade glinting in the moonlight. This was not a typical dispatch job; it was a mission to capture the rogue alive, at the behest of a werewolf pack, and that made things much harder. They didn’t say anything about not harming the wolf, though. The forest held its breath as Ria prepared to subdue the wolf. The air crackled with an otherworldly tension as she moved with a predatory grace, blending seamlessly with the shadows. All the while, the rogue wolf stood almost stock still, a silhouette against the moonlit canvas. It trembled slightly as she approached but showed no sign of noticing her, bar the slight flick of an ear. Was it really that hopeless? With a rush of energy, Ria clasped her hand around the handle of the dagger tighter and thrust forwards, the blade coming closer and closer to the rogue’s hind leg. In that charged moment, the wolf’s body froze, but its head shot to face her, eyes burning with a mixture of defiance and terror. In moments, the blade plunged into the wolf’s flank, and it fell to the ground with an agonised cry and howl; the entire forest shook, birds taking off in a cacophony of squawks and shrieks. Throwing her full weight atop the wolf, Ria plunged the knife deeper into its flank, blood pouring from the wound to stain the wolf’s chocolate brown fur. It whimpered and cowered and cried, pawing at the air but making no attempt to get up. Even when Ria released the pressure holding it down, the wolf remained on the ground, terrified eyes wide on her but otherwise accepting of its fate. Rogue wolves were usually the bottom of the pecking order, those who had received the brunt of the pack’s anger and frustrations - but very rarely were they quite this resigned. For just a moment, Ria felt a pang of empathy for the creature. What horrors must it have seen to be so unwilling to flee or fight? Ria dug into her bag and withdrew a heavy duty tie, quickly tethering the wolf’s paws together so that it couldn’t immediately flee. She then withdrew a heavy metal chain and further bound the animal’s paws to its body, so that, even if it attempted to shift back to a human form, it would be powerless. She couldn’t just leave it on the ground, though. She didn’t know when the pack would arrive to collect it, and if she left it here, scavengers would no doubt be on it in no time. She’d seen what foxes and corvids did to downed sheep, and she had no doubt they’d do the same with the bloodied excuse for a wolf before her. And so, pulling a rope from her backpack as well, she wound this around the chain, then threw the rope over a nearby branch. Heaving on the string, the downed wolf was hoisted into the air with a loud yelp and a whimper, but still, it did not fight. After securing the rope to keep the wolf elevated off the ground, Ria walked up to it, looking at the creature’s face curiously. The wolf, in turn, stared back at her with large, fearful, and pained eyes. But there was something else in them, too - regret, perhaps? Whatever it was, the wolf looked almost troubled, and not just because it had a massive hole gouged into its flank. No, there were regrets plaguing the creature’s mind. Ria could only wonder what they might be. Suddenly, Ria noticed something on the air, and she breathed in deeply. Her blood ran cold. The scent of other wolves was on the air - and many of them. Had they arrived to recover their rogue already? But no, she hadn’t even informed them yet where the wolf was, unless… She’d been tricked. She looked back at the strung-up wolf with wide, shocked eyes, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. The wolf, for its part, simply hung its head and looked away, trembling slightly. It had been a trap! As the first shadowy figures emerged from the periphery of the clearing, Ria's eyes narrowed in defiance and determination, but her hand trembled by her side. She was more than capable of taking on werewolves, but not this many alone - and especially not without a plan or having the element of surprise. No doubt, she had faced formidable adversaries before, but this confrontation promised to be unlike any other. The wolves, their eyes ablaze with the eerie glow of the moon, encircled the captive rogue and the unsuspecting hunter. The leader of the charge stepped closer, his frame almost radiating power and dominance; his jet black fur was softly rippled by the breeze, making him look even greater. His regal bearing almost made Ria’s knees buckle before him. The wolf’s deep, dark eyes were filled with an intelligence that transcended mere animal instinct, and they locked directly onto Ria's. In that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them; the hunter had become the hunted, and for all of her skills, there was nothing Ria could do to stop it. Without a word, the leader signalled to the others, and the wolves closed in, their movements coordinated and purposeful. Ria, standing her ground, braced herself for the impending clash. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent prelude to the storm that was about to break. Somewhere, a tree branch cracked and snapped. All of a sudden, chaos ensued; in moments, Ria found herself at the bottom of a massive pile of wolves, pinned to the ground by their weight, savage jaws biting at her heels. She screamed, and the wolves momentarily withdrew, but it wasn’t enough; as she attempted to stand, she felt heavy jaws clasp around the hood of her coat, yanking her out from the pile and directly into the chest of the savage black wolf itself. Ria knew it was already over. If she attempted to escape, to slip free of the coat, she’d only be captured again in moments by the massive pack surrounding her. There was no hope for escape, and the black wolf’s menacing growl gave one very clear command: “Give up.” And so, for the first time in her entire life, Ria dropped her silver dagger and let her arms go limp. She’d gotten complacent in her skills and had relied too heavily on her reputation to protect herself from the hunters. And now, it was too late.