The Alpha's Unwanted Luna

Chapter Five

Hector Walker wasn’t your average alpha. Despite talks of him growing a crippling conscience and becoming weak, there was a time when his name made minor packs tremble and collapse before they had time to group, and he paid insubordination with blood. He handled an axe like it was a lethal extension of his powerful hands, swinging and striking with ease, and like his son, Jason, he had stark grey eyes that cut straight through the night. His auburn hair made him even more unique, with his scarred body and intense brooding demeanor. Back in the days, he would rather rip the head off whatever enemy was before him, claiming their territory for himself, before thinking of a diplomatic way to solve things. Now he sat in his too-quiet dining table alone, in his too-quiet house, he was older, wiser, he thought things through now, but this seemed like weakness to his pack. He had watched too many loyal wolves lose their lives over meaningless wars. He stared at the cup in his hands, empty, wanting to be more, but unable to bend fate this time. He looked to the chair Jason would sit for dinner if he wasn’t in the south tonight. He remembered the look on his face when he told him he was trying to stop the bloodshed between the North and South. That night, they drove stakes of words through each other’s hearts.

“You will be mated to Hannah Smith, Anderson’s daughter, the arrangement’s already being made. This relationship will be good for the south, son.”

“Good for the south, or good for you, dad?” Jason retorted.

“What the hell do you mean good for me, boy? Everything I do, I do for the good of the pack.”

“Oh please Dad, spare me the sermon. You lost your balls the last time you faced Anderson, and you haven’t found them since. Everyone already thinks that. He takes your territory, you don’t do s**t, he kills your scouts, he hunts on your lands, but you don’t say s**t. Hell, some of the wolves think you’re scared of him.”

“That’s nonsense, boy. So much blood has been spilled between the North and the South, but we always end up suffering more for it. They have better roads, better soil, and better forests for hunting. We’ve put up with this tough act long enough, I have to look out for my people. Your people.”

Hector eased the tension in his brows and looked at Jason as one would look at a child. “You wouldn’t understand child, you’re…you’re much too young.”

“Fancy way to say you’re scared, dad. So scared, you’re willing to put my life on the line.”

That night, they fought till the hairs on Jason’s skin began to rise like his temper. His eyes glowed with fury, and for the first time, Hector saw just how alike his son was to him.

Jason, his boy, his heir, the thought of Anderson ripping Jason’s throat out made his insides churn. There were moments when he wondered if he had made the right decision, calling a truce for the war between the North and South, but he remembered the wolves he had lost to the war, to Anderson. Friends, family, friends turned to family. He stared into his empty cup once more and thought about what insane mind games Anderson would play with Jason and he wondered if Jason would find the heart to endure through this whole arrangement. He was, in a way, stealing his youth from him, after all.

Mating season was getting to its peak, and the l**t in his veins was growing too hot to contain. He thought passively about what female wolf he would mate with tonight. The wolves of the North were howling and dancing with excitement. The thick smell of alcohol and youthful exuberance pierced through the night’s air, the moon was soon to be at full peak, hanging in the sky, fueling the intensity of their hunger. Outside, drums were beaten with the energy of a thousand men, mates danced and danced, as if possessed with the night. Mates were marked behind the ears with symbols unique to only both of them, hairs excited, and strength unquantifiable, they would hold each other with the tenderness of powerful beasts, bringing their foreheads together, kissing, and returning to their dancing. The sound and smell of the festival burrowed memories back up to Hector’s mind. He was taken back to his lover, his mate, Jason’s mother. He thought of their first night of the mating season, how beautiful she was, how special it had been. She had grown tired of the war after she lost her brother to the South. He showed a half smile and said to himself “No one’s ever felt quite like you, you know.”

Hector heard footsteps approaching, ‘a familiar scent’ he thought to himself, so he pulled himself back to reality and made to keep the metal cup back on the table, but it was already squashed into a piece of metal trash, his fingers making prints on one side of it. He was expecting Jeremiah, he was expecting news, good news. Jeremiah walked into the room with bits of sweat dripping from his forehead, his heart beating fast, the thumping sounded pleasing to Hector’s ears.

“Come share a drink with me, boy” Hector said, looking pleased.

“Don’t mind if I do, chief.” replied Jeremiah. He moved to sit with Hector and gulped down a few cups of brandy. He was about to pour another cupful when Hector cast a sharp glance his way. He let go of the bottle and his attention was restored.

“I take it you have good news for me” said Hector, looking at his axe hanging diagonally on the brazen walls.

“I do chief. We got him. We lost a few good people too, Quinn and Kieran were gutted by the southern pig, bless their souls.” Jeremiah looked to the roof as if praying for their souls to find peace.

“Where is he now?” asked Hector, Jeremiah looking back at him.

“He’s in The Cellar chief. There’s something you need to know though. He ain’t the normal kind of werewolf. He’s a…a different kind of beast. Against him, Quinn couldn’t land a blow. It was almost like he was possessed…by some demon.”

He had Hector’s attention now “It’s almost a full moon, you would expect…”

Jeremiah cut him short. “I’m telling you chief, this is different. It was almost like he made Quinn stand still midway into the battle. You know Quinn, she never misses a target, but this time, even with Kieran and me, we were barely able to land a hit. I was only able to capture him because Kieran jumped him from behind, sticking a poisoned blade in his back, but even that too, wore off after a few minutes. Oh, he kept muttering something too, like some incantation.”

Hector seemed worried now, but did his best to contain his brewing anxiety. This was the perfect chance to prove to his pack that he was not growing weak. He was going to make an example of this culprit who has been k********g wolves from his pack and torturing them for information. He felt a rush comb through him, and at that instant, faced with a despicable foe, he felt like the old Hector. He stood and went for his axe, he pulled it from the hanger on the walls, its blade was well sharpened and its short wooden handle blended well with Hector’s rough grip. Unable to contain his excitement, he said to Jeremiah, “Let’s go see this…beast.”

THE CELLAR was an old wine cellar that was converted to a t*****e chamber in the middle of the war.

It was warm and the edges of the wall were damp. It smelt of pain and death. Blood stains glued to the floor, refusing to be washed off, metal contraptions lay everywhere, rusted thick chains used to bind even the strongest of werewolves were used to bind the arms and legs of the beast to the strong metal hooks on the walls. Armed guards were always on the watch, ready to tear his head from this body if ever the groaning chains gave. Hector and Jeremiah climbed down into the cellar, Jeremiah leading behind, his entire frame covered with Hector’s bulky size, his axe gripped in his right hand. The beast opened his eyes to Hector’s presence, almost as if he was awaiting his arrival.

With their alpha present, the guards were relieved. Hector walked toward the beast and the tension on the chains was reduced. They studied each other, head to toe, as if looking for weaknesses, still, admiring their most brilliant features. The beast was a white male, about six foot one, slender with thick black hair. His eyes shone a brilliant yellow, and his canines stood out from the rest of his teeth, hungry for more bloodshed. The veins in his forearms were thick, thicker than usual, and the blood that flowed within was greenish-black.

“What are you?” Hector asked.

“I am you…” then looking at all the guards in the cellar, he added “…but better.” For a wolf that was captured by the Northern pack and was in the Alpha’s presence, he seemed too calm, and this felt like an insult to Hector. He wanted to be done with this interrogation as soon as possible, there was something off about this strange creature, he thought. Perhaps Jeremiah was right.

“What do want with my people? You kidnap them and spill their guts for information, and for what? Are you working for the south? Talk and I’ll see to it that your death is swift and without any pain.”

The beast gave a wide smile which soon turned into a raucous laughter. He spoke with the demeanor of one who was in the presence of infants.

“Ah, my dear Hector, bored already? I was just starting to enjoy the circus.”

Hector gestured to one of the guards to begin t*****e. The guard moved to a metal rack, picked up an iron Mace and whipped it harshly into the beast’s belly. The beast gave a low grunt, then a louder grunt when the second wave came crashing into his lower rib. Thick blood escaped his lips now, but he began to laugh again. The guard swung a third time, whipping his lower jaw. Hector watched curiously, his axe still glued to his right hand.

“Tell me what I want to know and we can both call it a night.” Hector said.

The guard raised the mace to his shoulder, taking a stance for a heavy swing, but he stopped halfway, his bones cringing like they were frozen in time. His eyes showed pain but his mouth stayed shut. The beast spat thick blood from his mouth and raised his head, completing his incantations. He twisted his hands so they could grip the chains, and he pulled both chains from the wall with an ease that brought weakness to all the guards. He had all of Hector’s attention now. After ripping the chains from the wall, he broke the restraints from his wrists and looked at the guard standing still before him, he dug his thumbs into the guard’s eyes and split his head in opposite directions. Blood spattered on the floor as the body fell. The beast wiped the blood off his hands, and said to no one in particular, “he was starting to piss me off, I hope you don’t mind.”

Hector turned to Jeremiah and with urgency, he shouted, “Get word to Jason. Now!”