Bitten by My Enemy Alpha

Chapter 2: The Clash

Henrietta and her squad dispatched an hour after the meeting, riding with their stallion horses. They didn't waste any more time and went to the depths of the Misty Fir Forest.

Henrietta slowed her horse as soon, which took them three hours to arrive. With the help of the lanterns at their belts, they finally saw the borderlands, where human soil was mixed into werewolf territory.

"Our magical barrier hasn't been broken," Hezekiah muttered behind her, checking the rune on his rifle. A small smile crept to his lips as his beloved rifle was back in his arms.

He was not a crossbow user, but a gun user. His rifle had been under maintenance for a few days because of the previous hunt, which had left it cracked from excessive use during his battle against the vampires.

Henrietta didn't respond. Her focus never wavered from the dark ahead. Her instincts already whispered of the danger ahead as she gracefully and swiftly unsheathed her rapier from its scabbard.

The hunting squad followed in a loose column, five riders in total. Their breath formed white clouds as the horses walked; frost crackled over the dead leaves.

Somewhere from their distance, a wolf howled that echoed through the valley.

One of the veterans, Ilya, clicked his tongue. "They say this place used to be a witch's graveyard," he said, a little too loud. "Cursed ground. The kind that swallows the bones of whoever trespasses."

"Keep your stories to yourself," Henrietta said without looking back, her eyes sharpened at the front. "Fear breeds mistakes. And mistakes feed wolves."

Hezekiah's gaze swept the treeline. "Still... he's not wrong. The soil looks wrong here."

He was right. The forest past the Obsidian range was bizarre. The roots twisted like veins, slick with dark sap. Even the air faintly shifted. The magic lingered here felt old and unkind.

Henrietta tightened her grip on her rapier's hilt. The blade hummed softly as if reacting to the unseen. It wasn't from fear that stirred her pulse. It was from the anticipation.

They reached the broken marker that separated human land from the wild. Beyond it was concealed with a thick fog.

"This is it," Henrietta muttered, dismounting from her horse. "No more tracks beyond this point. They'll smell us soon."

The others followed, tightening gear and preparing their silver weapons. Hezekiah glanced at her, hesitation flicker in his eyes as he approached. "Hetta... are you sure about this route? The reports said the Moon Rose Pack was sighted closer to the ridge."

"That's why we'll find them here," she said. "Wolves don't wait on roads, Zeke. They haunt the places men avoid."

He wanted to argue but didn't. He knew that he couldn't win from her so instead, he adjusted his gloves and said, "Then let's hope the Order's blessings are worth something tonight."

Their attention sharpened when above them, a raven cut through the fog with a harsh caw, circling once before vanishing east.

Ilya, the senior hunter, spat on the ground. "Raven scouts. Means they're watching."

Henrietta raised her hand, and the silence enveloped. Her eyes darted to the path of the bird until it disappeared.

"Good," she said coldly and softly. "Let them know we're coming."

The squad members shared uneasy glances, but no one spoke again. They moved forward, weapons drawn, as the fog became their vulnerable ground.

But they knew better. They were trained to fight with their eyes closed. To them, this was just a piece of cake. This was nothing new to them.

Then came the growl echoing through the forest.

Hezekiah prepared his rifle, his eyes becoming deadly as he listened.

Henrietta summoned her hand, signaling them. The squad understood her hand gesture as the faint glow of their warding lanterns put out, one by one, until the forest's darkness swallowed them whole.

Thanks to the moonlight, it bestowed a shimmering light through the fog.

No one spoke. The horses' steam breath was the only thing they could hear. Their footsteps, which were so light, couldn't break the silence.

Henrietta scanned the clearing ahead as her breath fanned white into the air.

Then, something gleamed through the mist. Eyes. Dozens of them, glowing like embers.

Hezekiah, c*****g his head from left and right, aimed with his rifle. "At least seven... No, ten." His eyes scanned sharply around to take in his surroundings.

Henrietta's lips drew out an icy smile. Her muscles were tingling from excitement for bloodshed. "Our guests... are here," she announced softly, her deadpan expression still in place, drawing her rapier.

The hunters spread into formation, their boots sinking slightly into the snow. Hezekiah took his position at the rear flank, rifle braced against his shoulder, his breathing steady. The others mirrored Henrietta's posture, looking silent, precised, and prepared.

Then, the silence broke.

A snarl reverberated through the fog and formed a shape that lunged from the shadows.

As fast as a lightning bolt, Henrietta's rapier sliced through its throat mid-leap. It was a quiet cut that no blood gushed until the creature fell without a sound.

"Hold your ground!" she ordered sharply but calmly.

The wolves rushed in together, eyes glowing. The hunters met them with their weapons, their movements mechanical and disciplined. The air filled with the metallic tang of blood, wolfsbane, and gunpowder.

Hezekiah fired with perfect precision, each shot finding its target. Every time his rifle roared, another wolf fell. "Four down," he muttered under his breath, his chest feeling heavy, reloading smoothly. "Make that five." With a sigh, he murmured softly, wishing peace for the wolves he had slain.

He felt sorry for his enemies, but what came first was their mission to end the threat and return to the base with good news ahead.

"Don't get too proud," Henrietta retorted, suspecting her brother was seeking competition when that wasn't the case. "I still have the lead."

Even in battle, her tone was dry and unwavering, like she had done this a thousand times.

More wolves emerged from the fog. Some were handled by others, and Henrietta took care of her own prey by pivoting, stabbing, and withdrawing. Her movements were like a work of art. Her brutality was calculating, efficient, and graceful, like a ballerina performing on her own stage.

Then, the world seemed to pause.

A single howl chimed in through the chaos. It was deep, resonant, and commanding. The kind that didn't just echo, but ruled.

Every werewolf froze mid-motion. Even the wounded ones crawled back, eyes darting toward the sound.

Henrietta turned her head toward the tree line, her blade slightly lowered. "So," she paused, her lips curling in a wicked, frigid smile. "The Alpha decides to grace us."

From between the trees, a tall figure stepped forward. Moonlight honored him.

Broad shoulders, dark hair, no signs of shifting, a human-like figure. His ocean-blue eyes glowed for a moment.

Gideon Marco Lacetti.

Alpha of the Moon Rose Pack had finally appeared.

His pack retreated into the mist, forming a circle around the clearing, watching.

Henrietta moved gracefully, dipping into a curtsy with one hand, mimicking the motion of lifting an invisible skirt, her rapier still firmly held in the other. "It is my pleasure to finally meet you, my lord." Her tone was as cold as ice. "You'll regret not staying hidden."

Gideon's gaze met hers, steady and undeniable, calming. His eyes shifted between her and Hezekiah because of their resemblance to each other. His lips tugged a smirk as he lifted his chin, eyes piercing in her direction.

"So this is the infamous Argenthal heir," he said, his voice was deep. "They said you were merciless. I see they undersold you."

Her lips twitched. "Such flattery from a beast. I cannot wait to end you before your kind starts another tale."

"You could try."

Their words carried heaviness in the air. Both of them were staring at each other, having a stoic expression. Only the breathing of the wounded wolves could be the music to the deafening silence.

And then... in the blink of an eye, movement exploded between them.

Henrietta lunged first, her rapier slicing a silver arc through the air. Gideon deflected it with his forearm, shifting it to his claw. Their clash seemed like stars scattering in the sky.

Then, the next strike came faster, aimed for his throat. However, Gideon twisted aside, claws grazing her sleeve.

They moved instantly as if no one was around them, and the sound of their clashing became the highlight of the night.

Hezekiah raised his rifle, didn't waste any time, but the moment he took aim, a blur of wolves intercepted, forcing him into a fight ahead. "Henrietta!" he shouted, but she didn't hear... or didn't care.

For her, her focus was fixed on the Alpha. Slaughtering one was enough for her to be complimented by the founder. For her, if she could slay him, she would never be compared to her brother ever again.

However, Gideon's strength was overwhelming, his movements were instinctive and primitive. Yet Henrietta's precision was unmatched. Hers was intended, every deflection was exact.

They were opposites clashing in perfect symmetry. It was a discipline against instinct, light against darkness.

He blocked another blow and countered with a clawed snipe that grazed her shoulder. Her rapier bolted forward, drawing a line of silver fire across his chest.

He smiled through the pain, wolfsbane burning his flesh. "You fight like you were born to kill us."

"And you die like you were born for it," she hissed.

The ground trembled. There was a faint hum beneath their feet that grew louder. It was stagnant like a pulse. Neither of the two parties noticed at first due to the intense battle. Not until the air thickened with something unnatural.

Hezekiah froze mid-motion, sensing it too. "Hetta!" he yelled again, his tone alerting and warning this time. "The ground—"

His words were cut off as the forest light warped. A ring of sigils burned through the frost under their feet, glowing faint blue to gold.

Henrietta's eyes widened. "A seal—?"

Gideon's claws flexed. "Witchcraft!"

The ground trembled again. This time, the frost cracked beneath their boots, light seeping through the cracks.

Henrietta jumped to take a step back, her breath catching. And the sigils brightened, humming with a sound that didn't belong to this world.

"Everyone—" she tried to shout, but the words never finished because the light surged, swallowing the surroundings.

Gideon lunged forward to her, claws out. "Get away from the mark!"

However, it was too late.

"Hetta!" Hezekiah yelled for her.

The ground had split open, and a force like wind and thunder burst upward. Henrietta was thrown off balance, her rapier slipping from her grasp. Her body struck the frozen ground, the impact knocking the breath out of her.

Through the haze of light and snow, Gideon's figure emerged in his half-shifted form, his muscles tensed and fangs bared. He reached for her, maybe to shield, but the curse reacted first.

A surge of golden flame lashed up from the ground, wrapping around them both. The magic crawled through Gideon's veins like fire, the beast inside him rising, looking uncontrollable. He began groaning, trying to fight it, but it was futile.

Henrietta gasped, struggling against the pull of the seal as the ground kept trembling beneath them. She tried to crawl away, her fingers brushing the hilt of her fallen rapier, but Gideon caught her wrist.

His claws dug into her glove as he pinned her down, his breath hot against her neck.

"Let me go!" she spat, twisting underneath him.

But Gideon wasn't listening. He couldn't.

His eyes had changed. They were glowing in feral blue drowned in streaks of gold. He was not himself. The magic around them flared again, and his head dipped closer, his fangs bared more.

She fought back by striking his shoulder with her free hand, but he was faster to catch it.

Then, an unexpected moment occurred, his fangs sank into the curve of her shoulder, which was above her collarbone.

She knew she was supposed to have a high tolerance for pain since it had been part of their training from a young age, their Order had made sure of that, but after so many years, she finally felt the pain shoot through her body.

She gasped sharply, and it didn't take for her to finally scream the pain she felt as its fangs dug deeper. "Zeke!" She couldn't help yelling for her twin brother's name that muffled in the events happening around them.

The seal kept pulsing beneath them once more before it began to fade, its glow gradually dimming as if nothing had happened.

Then, everything was surrounded with silence.

Gideon's body went still, his claws loosening their grip from Henrietta's body. The fury in his eyes dimmed as if he had returned to himself again.

As his head turned at the person underneath him, his eyes widened in horror and disbelief before he staggered back, panting hard. "I didn't—" he started, his voice rough and hoarse. "It wasn't supposed to..."

Henrietta's vision blurred. "You... bit me...?" she uttered, her world feeling tilted and spinning. She pressed her hand to the wound, feeling the warmth seeping through her glove.

She tried to move her body, but she felt immobilized, her breath became shallow.

The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was Gideon's face, who looked torn between horror and something unreadable, as he reached toward her while hearing her brother screaming her name.

"Henrietta!"