Alpha Ryan prepares for war
1432 Words
Ryan sat on a chair, holding a T-5000 super rifle in his hand. He held it at shoulder level, his eyes focused through the sight. The gun was old and golden, a testament to its deadly history.
“Who is out there?” Ryan called from the room.
“It’s Tory, sir,” one of the guards standing outside replied.
“Come inside.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I need you to help bring all weapons from the storehouse into this office,” he commanded seriously. “Everything down to the last bit - gunpowders, bullets, blades, arrows, bows, guns, everything, I mean everything!”
“Yes, sir, I understand, sir. I’ll get right on it,” Tory said and left for the storehouse.
Ryan was already surrounded by several guns, weapons, and blades. He had to prepare his people for war. Whoever or whatever was killing his pack members would face their full force. Anger surged within him as he cleaned the gun, thinking about the loss of his pack members.
“Good afternoon, Alpha," Stark greeted as he entered the room, bowing his head in respect. His eyes wandered across the array of weapons on the table. "Is everything okay, Alpha?" he asked, curious about the sudden display of weapons.
"Stark, we are preparing for war. No one messes with my pack and goes scot-free. Hell knows I don’t give a damn who it is, but they must pay for this, Stark, they must pay," Ryan said, banging the table in frustration. He had enough of the threats and deaths in his pack. Although he appeared gentle at times, he was still the same ruthless Alpha he was before venturing into the human world. Whoever was responsible for the attacks would pay dearly for their deeds. "We have to prepare for war. I want all things ready - potions, enchantments, poisons, weapons, everything must be ready."
"Yes, Alpha."
"And what about what I asked you to do, Stark? Where’s the man?" Ryan asked impatiently.
"I have him in the dungeon, but he's not talking."
A wicked smile played across Ryan's face. "Don't worry, he'll talk," standing up he dropped the gun in his hand and dusted his hands. "Grab me some tools from the table. I need nails, a bow hammer, and a drill," Ryan commanded. He hated this side of himself, the side that compelled him to resort to brutal means. But he knew he had no choice if he wanted to protect his pack. If this so-called anonymous man would die to ensure his pack members survive, then so be it. "By the time I'm done with him, he'll be telling me more than I ask him."
As Ryan headed to the dungeon, he removed his shirt, not wanting to get any bloodstains on it. Inside the cold, dark room, he found a weak man tied to an iron seat.
"Where is he?" Ryan asked the guard he found inside.
"Over there, Alpha," the guard bowed and led Ryan to an iron seat. On the iron seat sat a weak man. The man's body was battered, covered in cold sweat and blood, his hands and legs bound tightly to the chair.
Ryan looked at him in disgust, his face scrunching up. He despised weak small men, considering them a disgrace to the male race. He was shocked to see that the small man in front of him was still holding up after this much torture. Although the man had a hint of defiance around him, Ryan could still smell his fear. Ryan's eyes glinted with a mix of determination and ruthlessness.
"Your little act of bravery won't save you," Ryan said in a low, menacing voice. "I have all the time in the world, and I'm very good at breaking people."
The man's defiant look only amused Ryan further. He laughed and sat on a chair in front of the man, grabbing his face with his right hand, digging his thumb and index finger deeply into the man's cheeks.
“What do you know about the death of those animals at Crestmont’s borders?” Ryan demanded.
“Nothing, I’ve said so several times,” The man managed to reply despite the pain in his cheeks.
“And the drugs?”
“Nothing, there’s nothing.”
“Ah,” Ryan smiled wickedly, his eyes never leaving the man's face. He loved a challenge, and this man was certainly putting up one.
“The hammer and the nail, Stark,” Ryan commanded with a flick of his hand. The nails, bow hammer, and drill were laid out on a nearby table, ready to be used.
“Here they are, Alpha,” Stark took them from the table and handed them to Ryan.
The man’s fear seemed to grow, and his once defiant face was now showing fear. Ryan moved his chair closer to the man and slowly put his hand on the man’s left hand.
“You know, I love when people tell me the truth,” Ryan said as he brought a nail to the man’s index finger, “but if you insist on your innocence, then you leave me with no choice.” With that, Ryan pounded the nail into the man’s index finger, causing the man to scream out in pain. The man's screams echoed through the dungeon, the sound of pain and desperation filling the air.
"P-ple-ase, please, I’ll talk,” the man managed to stammer. Just a few minutes and the man’s resolve had broken. Ryan smiled inwardly, he knew he still had it in him.
“I’m listening,” Ryan leaned back from him and watched him. “What do you know about the animals and the drugs?”
“I-I don't really know anything." The man stammered.
Ryan leaned in closer, his face inches away from the man's trembling form. "You expect me to believe that?" he sneered. "I don't think you know who you’re dealing with.” Ryan picked another nail and dangled it in front of the man, “I guess the pain wasn’t so much the first time.”
“I’ll talk, I’ll talk, please just stop with the nails,” the man begged, his body shaking with fear, sweat beads glued to his skin.
“I’m listening,” Ryan’s eyes narrowed on the man’s face.
“I only know that there’s this new mafia group,” He said in between shaky breaths.
“Mafia?” Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise.
“Yes, a mafia group, and some years ago they overpowered the previous leaders and dons, and they’re now in charge. In fact, their cartel is the biggest in Crestmont.”
“So?” Ryan asked impatiently, “what does that have to do with animals?”
“Well, according to what I heard, the group uses all sorts of means to transport drugs. They purchase animals and even train them to transport and cross borders with drugs.”
“What!” Ryan was shocked, “are you sure about this?”
“Yes, yes, I’ve been hearing that some wolves were found dead at the borders. It’s possible some of them ingested the powders or missed a trail.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“See,” the man tried to shift in his chair but was held back by the chains. “I’m not sure either how it works, but it seems the group has some sort of manipulation techniques for these animals. They lure them to the product and lure them all through the trail. If anything goes wrong upon delivery, the animals are shot dead, and if not, they’re reused.”
Ryan's mind raced, trying to process the information. The war they were preparing for just got more complicated. Ryan didn’t really care that they carried out their operations with animals. What bothered him was why his wolves were involved in the operation? Was it an intentional move, or did his pack members get caught up in the operations? His mind wandered to the letter Stark had received from a group called "Wanderers." He couldn’t help but wonder if the group was the same mafia group, and if they were, what exactly did they want from his pack to be targeting them.
As Ryan stood up to leave the dungeon, he called Stark and Tory to follow him.
“Tory,” Ryan called out.
“Yes, my lord.”
“I need you to kill him.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
“Good,” Ryan said before leaving the dungeon.
- Writer
