Peak Moon: The hunted Alpha

EPISODE 3

Havana didn’t answer how she got the name. Some memories cut deeper than any blade, and this was probably one of them. Matvey thought.

“Good night!” Havana said with a small smile.

“Good night, dearie.” Matvey waved.

Maybe once he got to know her better, she would open up. He was already taking a liking to her.

CAPITAL CITY, CRUSSLAND

Lieutenant Colonel Konstantin Hitrov pushed open the door and stepped into the office. General Markov stood with his back to him, flipping through thin journals on a small shelf.

“Good morning, sir.” Hitrov saluted.

“Your greeting is useless,” the general snapped without turning. His voice was ice.

Hitrov froze, hands at his sides. He waited.

Finally, Markov turned. His eyes were hard.

“Why are you botching my special mission?”

“We did everything, sir. He still escaped.”

“That sounds like an excuse,” Markov stepped closer. “I want a file with his status marked ‘terminated.’ Anything else is failure. A complete fiasco.”

Hitrov didn’t mention how the mission fell apart after Firod’s panicked order to fire. The general didn’t need to know that Firod had taken his own life after he realized his mistake. It was better than facing superiors in the military and the punishment that came after. As a fallen soldier, his son would still receive benefits. His comrades would keep his name clean out of respect. Dead men don’t make mistakes.

“How long do we keep burning resources on one man?” Markov slammed a hand on the desk. “What do I tell my superiors? What do I tell the President?”

Hitrov didn’t flinch. This wasn’t his first reprimand. 10 months ago, he had led the strike on Matvey’s village in Southern Crussland. It was a decisive operation. Matvey’s wife was lost in that attack. After that, Hitrov’s rank went up, and so did the body count across the country.

They’d lost Matvey after he vanished to Mount Palma. The army searched and found nothing. Until recently. Two tourists posted ski photos. In the background, caught by accident, was Matvey. Splitting wood with a sledgehammer.

That one photo was enough. Hitrov got the order: assemble a team. Take down the number one name on the Secret Service list.

The government didn’t care about small raids anymore. They wanted the alpha.

Strike the shepherd, and the sheep scatter.

“We can’t keep wasting resources,” Markov continued. “We use special rounds. Silver. Do you know how hard it is to mine in foreign countries? Every shot has to count.”

Dismissed, Hitrov returned to his office. He poured a cup of black coffee and drank slowly. If he didn’t deliver, someone else would. And Markov was trying to stay in the President’s good graces too.

MOUNT OREO

Even in the morning, the mountains looked hazy. Thick trees blocked the light from reaching the little village Hurtis ruled.

Matvey and Ema were up by 8am, even though they’d only slept at 1am. He didn’t want to look like a guest waiting to be served.

Outside, a man was walking with traps in his hands.

“Morning,” Matvey called.

“Morning.” The man glanced up. “You’re the visitor from yesterday.”

“You could say that.” Matvey noticed the traps. The man wasn’t wandering after all.

“I’d like to meet Hurtis.”

“Follow me.”

The man led him to the largest cabin. Inside it was busy. Hurtis sat with a few men, telling jokes. The room broke into laughter.

“Hurtis, this man wants to see you,” the guide announced.

Hurtis looked up and grinned. “This man? You’re blind. That’s the legendary Matvey!”

The other men laughed. The guide’s face went red.

“I’m sorry, Alpha. I didn’t know. You’re the reason we’re safe…”

“No need,” Matvey said, clapping him on the back. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Hurtis,” Matvey started, “Is there work this morning, or are we just—”

“Just joking?” Hurtis stood fast, closing the distance. For a second, the room went quiet.

“Easy,” Matvey said, hands open. “I wasn’t—”

“I’m messing with you,” Hurtis cut in with a laugh. The men relaxed. He just wanted everyone to remember who ran this pack. “Food will be ready soon. We can’t sit here bored till the women call us.”

Matvey nodded.

“What about Ema?” Hurtis asked.

“She’s awake. Waiting at the cabin.”

“Bring her. Big dining room. Food’s almost ready.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ema sat at the table with Matvey, Hurtis, and five of Hurtis’s men. Bowls were passed. The mood was light.

Then Ema asked, quiet but clear:

“Daddy? Why do the soldiers hate us?”

The room stopped. Spoons paused. The men looked at each other, then back at their plates.

Hurtis cleared his throat. “That’s a heavy one, baby girl. But you’re smart for your age. Your father will tell you. And if he misses anything, Uncle Hurtis will fill it in.”

Matvey set his spoon down.

“Child… a long time ago…”