The Alpha's Unwanted Luna

Chapter Four

The Northern pack was a small pack of werewolves who lived deep in the woods of Northern Wolfsdale, far away from the prying eyes of humans and into a space where they could be their truest selves without having to hide all the time. A few humans would come around every once in a while- tourists, hunters, and any who posed a risk to their secret was immediately executed and made to look like they died by accident, with the help of their officers of course. Ian, Todd and Jackson were officers in the Sheriff’s department who manipulated the scene of the crime before law enforcement arrived.

The Northern woods were filled with tall large trees with broad leaves which painted everywhere with greenness and serenity in summer. The trees, which shielded them from the harsh burns of the sun and the realities of the rest of the world, were hundreds of years old and were perfect for woodwork- a handiwork most of the werewolves had taking a liking to. Many of the werewolves were involved in furniture carpentry which they made a living out of by forging furniture and selling to dealers in the city. They involved themselves in small trades and businesses that kept them under the radar. Most of them involved themselves in jobs that required physical labor. Work that required strength and heavy lifting was easy for them, but it wouldn’t take them too far from the pack. There was a war going on still, and werewolves had been going missing for the past three weeks, and even in the mating season, they were on high alert. Many others ran their individual businesses. Selena, Bruno, William, and Iris worked in the local Fire department, stationed at the point where the city meets the mouth of the woods.

They were civilized, at least they liked to think themselves more civilized than the Southern pack. They didn’t ravage small villages on full moons, they didn’t mate under the sky for all to see, but in the confines of their homes, and they didn’t turn humans to werewolves as frequently as their counterparts in the South.

Everything had changed in the past thirteen years. There were mutters that Hector had gotten weak and wasn’t equipped to lead the North anymore. Whispers that he had evolved, developed a dulling sense of empathy. They no longer killed humans unless they absolutely needed to, and to some members of the pack, there was no longer the thirst for violence in his blood. This alliance with the south would be the latest of his decisions that would fuel an already ignited uprising. He often thought of the moment when an Omega would challenge him to a duel and was reassured by how ready he would be for it.

Talks of an uprising steamed over his pack, but the werewolves who were going missing in the woods trumped in importance over their trifling whispers. The culprit in the woods, his woods and the fact that he was still on the loose irked Hector even more. It was strange, seeing that the perpetrator didn’t leave behind enough tracks to be traced. He was skilled, dangerous and needed to be stopped as soon as possible. To Hector, this was the perfect chance to gain the unyielding faith of his pack once more. Vexation overcame him every time he thought of this enemy who was slippery as a fish lathered in oil. Inside him, he wondered if it was Anderson who was the one at play, but he knew Anderson as one who liked to be acknowledged for his feats, and this was not a feat he would fail to claim. First it was Jones, a beta who had gone hunting in the eastern side of the woods but never came back, then it was Jenna, another beta, whose father he had fought beside, who was walking back to the pack from the north-western side of the forest, then Jerome, an Omega, tough, who gave a loud hoarse scream moments before he vanished into nothingness. Three werewolves in the last three weeks, gone without a trace, a thorn no doubt in Hectors foot, but he had sent his best warriors on the job and was now awaiting news of their return.

Hector Walker wasn’t your average werewolf. Even before rising to the title of pack alpha, he was known for his brilliance in battle and his ever deviously handsome looks. His human body was built like an impenetrable tower, not just in strength and height, but in its toughness. For his pack, it had an intimidating way of putting them at ease, making them feel protected, as though it could shield them from all the danger in the world. His eyes gave a sparkling blue color, which sliced through the darkness of the night. It blended with the coconut white of his skin and his coarse auburn hair which he never let grow past his full eyebrows. Stubbles sprinkled around his strong jaw, completing the intricacies of his handsomeness. He was a simple man who liked simple things; a glass of brandy on a cool night and a healthy game of moonbrawl which his son championed. His hands were rough from wars and carpentry; a hobby he had successfully turned into a small business.

That evening, he sat in the silence of his home, a small cabin he had raised from the ground up. On the inside, the walls were adorned with the finest polished furniture from the finest wood. A sofa and a couch lay in the center of the sitting room, with a small fire place which released a crackle every now and then, its embers floating with smoke up the chimney. He sat slung on his dining chair, wearing a pale grey shirt that revealed his big upper body, a scar sliced clean on his broad chest. He rested his boots on the table and dusted the wood dust from his hair. Dani’s scent still lingered in their house. Dani, his mate, Jason’s mother, she was the only one who knew him, the real him, and loved him completely for it. She wielded a fierceness that tamed his fiery nature. She was easily beautiful, like a goddess, ferocious, and had a heart that could fit the entire world.

He thought about her more often these days, perhaps because it was about time he sent Jason off to mate with the daughter of the pack alpha of the South; Hannah Smith, or perhaps because the crux of mating season was fast approaching and the void within him deepened with longing for his lover. He knew Jason secretly blamed him for the death of his mother, for not being able to protect her even though he had the power to, even though he was Hector Walker, alpha of the North, but what Jason didn’t know was that Hector had been eaten up and regurgitated by guilt too many times to count.

“You’ve saved countless others but you couldn’t save your own. I’ll never forgive you, Dad. Never!”

Jason’s words found its way to the surface and reverberated an echo in his heart once more. Thirteen years had passed. Nobody knew it, but those were the final words that poisoned Hector’s love for the long war between the North and the South.

Here he was now, sealing a peace treaty between Anderson and himself, sending his only son to the enemy. ‘A gesture of goodwill’ Anderson had said. Hector scoffed and poured himself some brandy.

“What do you think love? Surely you must think I’ve gone bonkers ey?” he threw the question to the painting of Dani hung up on the wall opposite him.

She stared at him passionately, as he stared at her intently, as if hoping for a sign from the portrait, but all he got back was a sad look. “You must pity me,” he thought. He sipped from the glass. Memories of their past rushed back into him as the brandy slid down his throat, giving a soothing burn, awakening feelings he thought had fallen deep asleep within him, and would never awaken from their slumber.

He reminisced about Dani and the first day they met. They were both hunting the same deer but didn’t know about it. In the quiet of the Northern woods, winds rustled dead leaves quietly, the deer strolled gently along its path. The sun was sinking into the sky and a calming warmth loomed in the woods. Orange leaves scattered about the grounds and the trees were just beginning to bloom again after a long autumn, and some of the trees held leaves of orange and green leaves. Hector was younger then, and ferocity tainted his blood with its hotness, but little did he know that his prey was also being tracked and hunted by another werewolf. A girl, gorgeous without even trying, with shiny black skin, stark grey eyes and short black hair. Her skin was almost flawless from her black trousers and white tank top which she topped off with a sky blue jean jacket. On her neck, there was a necklace with a trident pendant.

Hector hid behind a thick bush, studying his prey with deep focus, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce when he saw Dani perched on the tree above her prey, armed with an assassin’s stance.

“Oh no you don’t.” hector muttered under his breath. “This one’s mine.” He leaped for a sturdy branch, propping his feet to spring him to the deer’s neck but a thud gave way to break the silence that enclosed that part of the woods. A flock of mockingbirds flew away at the sight and sound of death. The sound of a lifeless body hitting the ground. Dani had given a death blow to the deer before Hector arrived on the scene, seconds too late. They had argued about who owned the deer and how she had no right to kill his prey but she lifted the deer onto her shoulders and walked back to the pack, saying if it was really his prey, it would be on his shoulder, not hers. Her insolence infuriated him. Why didn’t she adore him like the rest of the female werewolves? He thought, as they walked back. His ego bruised, yet a longing bloomed, and an interest began to take root. He took time to notice the person he was walking with. Her full lips highlighted the smallness of her chin and the structure of her skin. Her skin was tight, he could tell, it shone with the light and her curves hypnotized him completely.

“You must think I’m in over my head.” He said to the painting, smirking. Moments later, he said, “I miss you Dani. I wish you were here. Maybe you would’ve talked me out of this mess.”

He poured himself some more brandy and stared more at the painting of his beloved.