The Alpha's Fight

Chapter 13 - At Least She Did

It was strange, thinking in a few weeks I would no longer be a teenager. My 20th birthday was fast approaching, not that the day would pass by any differently. My small group of friends may throw a little celebration in secret, as we did for each others’. My father, if he ever knew the date of my birthday, he had never let it be known. I don’t recall a single time when he ever acknowledged it. It wasn’t until I attended school that I knew what a birthday was. I was too scared as a child to ask my father what date I was born on and timidly asked an older Omega who once worked in the main house if she knew. She had glanced around nervously, making sure no one was in earshot and whispered to me. She couldn’t be certain and I had never found a birth certificate, so 6th September was all I had to go on.

Taylor I hadn’t seen once in over a year. With no school to catch a glimpse of him, it was difficult to find any sort of plausible excuse. I couldn’t very well stand outside his home every night; that was crossing the boundary into ‘sad and pathetic stalker’. I did have one idea, I just wasn’t sure yet how I would pull it off yet. He had finished school and would need a job. I knew how much he loved plants. And there just happened to be an orangery below my window that assisted in supplying the main pack house dining hall with vegetables and fruit. This was the only reason I hadn’t moved from the Alpha wing. For the chance of seeing Taylor, possibly daily, it was worth the nightmare of continuing to live at home.

I had wanted to move into the warrior residences to get away from my father, along with Scott and Jayden. As the future Gamma, Scott had secured a small suite and Jayden had moved in with him as his roommate. It would have been easier to support each other had we all moved in together, but Scott had raised an important point. What if it was suggested, or rather enforced, that Hayes moved in with us also? As future leaders altogether.

As Hawk had so eloquently put it, ‘I would rather gnaw my paw off than be stuck living with that prick.’

So, I took another one for the team. But if my plan worked, to have Taylor get a job as gardener around the pack house, it would be a hit I would gladly take all day.

To all of our surprise, the creepy phone guy had kept his end of the deal. Jayden had continued to receive her injections every three months without fail. She was continuing in using the puberty blockers and had refused cross-s*x hormones. They would have caused changes she would never have been able to hide and she was already pressing her luck as it was. What I still couldn’t understand was the mystery guy. He had everything to use against me, blackmail me, or sell me out… and he hadn’t. I couldn’t believe it was because he had any decency or morality; he willingly took commissions from my father and had seemingly held no qualms over selling out that girl’s, April’s, location to a madman. The more I tried to dissect that guy and understand him, the more my head hurt.

Having left school, my training increased tenfold. And all of it under my father. My life had become an endless cycle of broken bones and lingering pain, only to have my newly healed injuries reopen again. It was a brutal undertaking, but I could feel myself growing stronger for it. While I hadn't bested Nicholas yet in a sparring match, I was able to hold him off for longer each time. It would be a good few years before I was even close to challenging him.

That time would be needed, however. Slowly, we were gathering support. Mainly the younger wolves our age, new warriors and trackers; just over 30 of us and mostly from the captured pack. Every new wolf we approached increased the risk, of either being discovered or betrayed. One mistake, one wrong placement of trust and it would be all over along with our lives.

The pressure of all those lives dependent on me was more excruciating than the training.

It was a rare moment when I could escape and I tried to find it in everything I did. Which is what I was doing currently.

At the secret exit to Monkshood Moon, I was finishing up stashing the supplies for the next couple of wolves we had been working to help; money, a backpack each and a bottle of scent cover I had made. The stuff never lasted long but it would be enough to cover their escape well into the meadow at the end of the tunnel crevice. It would be ready for them tomorrow and I would lead them out in the morning. The two wolves, Graham and Joseph, were about my age, Graham a year older, and had found they were mates a few weeks ago when Joseph shifted.

I had felt my father trying to mind-link me for the last fifteen minutes. I knew choosing to ignore him would result in a rather severe beating when I returned, but if I opened the link to him, I doubted I would be able to contain Hawk's anger. My wolf's temperament was becoming a little uncontrollable lately.

'I'd be a little less temperamental if we would just gut that bastard in his sleep the way I told you to!' He snarled.

I sighed, growing tired of this on-running argument.

'1. He would hear before we even approached. 2. How would you fight two Betas and a Gamma? 3. There are thousands of warriors in this pack. Are you gonna one-wolf army your way through them all?'

I could feel him physically pause in his rage, mid-fit, and pout like a pup, knowing he was being ridiculous.

'I could do it,' he muttered, knowing it was a lie.

I shook my head, smiling a little. I missed these stupid moments with my wolf. They were diminishing as the festering anger grew.

Squeezing my way out of the tunnel and listening out for any patrol in the area, I crossed over the river in my wolf form, retrieving my bundle of clothes on the other side. I began to receive another mind-link, one I would happily answer, Scott.

'Hunter! Where are you?!' His voice was thickly ladened with panic.

'At our tunnel. I just finished setting up for tomorrow morn-'

'It's over,' Scott interrupted. 'They were caught…'

The breath evaporated from my body… but maybe there was still hope…

'Is there any chance we can break them out?' I ran at full speed, aiming for the pack prison. If they were going to be taken anywhere, it would be there first. That was where Nicholas would beat and torture his victims before execution. 'Everything here is set up, we can-'

'No…' the anguish and defeat lay heavy on his tone. 'Hunter, he’s chaining all four of them to poles as we speak. Nicholas has ordered all available pack members to the red field, they're being forced to watch…'

'Wait… four?'

'Graham and Joseph,' Scott paused for what felt like hours. '...And Taylor’s parents.'

'What…?' I almost fell as I ran.

'His mother spoke up and defended them and his father defended her… that's why Nicholas was mind-linking you. He's about to start flogging them any second.'

'Does he know? Taylor, does he know?' I asked in desperation.

'I don't know, I don't see him in the crowd anywhere,' I could tell he was searching frantically.

'Please, don't let him see,' I begged. 'I don't care what you have to do, Scott. Don't let him anywhere near the red field.'

That place was infamous in our pack. Many actively avoided the place. I know I certainly did. Whenever I had a nightmare, the red field was the usual backdrop, the scene where pack executions took place. Any wolf deemed a traitor or having had offensive relationships, as Nicholas called it, was sent there to die. Usually, they were flogged with silver in the dungeons, then brought before the pack and sometimes flogged again. Then, they are de-canined, the top and bottom canine teeth pulled out with silver pliers. This particular set of teeth were far more deeply rooted than in humans because ours were used for marking, hunting and defence, and fighting. Having them yanked out… looked agonising and I had been forced to witness it more times than I could count.

I had no idea if other packs used any methods such as these. All I knew was that it was a method dating back to mediaeval times in wolves. They believed it was a curse upon the wolf spirit, causing the human side to wither and die. A werewolf with no canines would have struggled to hunt back in the olden times and would have died from starvation, giving traction to the superstition.

I ran as fast as I could, ignoring the burn in my muscles and lungs till I reached the outer edge of the red field. I shifted and quickly dressed myself, trying to find Scott in the crowd. He was near the front, forced there by his father, Ford, with a warrior stood behind him so he couldn't turn away.

Three men stood chained with their arms above their heads, their backs torn open, vivid red from blood, skin and muscle torn from their bodies. I arrived to see the last stroke of the whip hit a woman's back. Hers was in a similar state to the others. I could barely recognise Graham or Joseph, or Taylor's parents for that matter. Their faces were a canvas of agony, bruises, fear… but what was most painful was the acceptance. Acceptance that they knew this was it.

My father's eyes landed on me in an instant, filled with fury, as he stood with his loyal dogs, Reid, Ford and a handful of warriors, including Jayden's father, to mete out his punishments. I would face consequences for ignoring him today. Maybe today would be the day I would find out what a silver whip felt like. I already had a scar across the top of my left arm from where Nicholas had thrown it at me for refusing to torture a prisoner. There were acts I would never stoop to, to maintain my cover as a somewhat obedient son.

Several warriors appeared, to corral me towards the very front of the crowd, leaving me with little option but to watch and listen to the first canine being ripped from Graham's jaw.

…These sounds… the images… they would never leave me.

'Imogen's keeping an eye on Taylor… he doesn't know,' Scott whispered, barely able to look at the scene in front of us.

She had shifted a few months ago and it came as little surprise that Sloane was indeed her fated mate.

This felt wrong to do. To rob Taylor of the precious final moments with his parents. But these weren't the final moments I wanted him to witness. These were images that would permanently scar my mind. I couldn't let them scar his mind as well. He was too gentle for atrocities such as these.

From how the blood flowed and gushed, I knew they had been dosed with wolfsbane, the poison that split us from our wolf temporarily and burned like fire in our veins. It weakened our strength and inhibited our ability to heal, not that the absence of wolfsbane would help in healing a silver wound. I could sense the wolfsbane starting to wane on Taylor's mother, not enough to save her but enough to possibly receive a mind-link.

'Mrs Forrester?' I hoped she would hear me.

Her face flickered with some life, exhausted, pained, defeated, yet, she heard me. She searched out the crowd, as if on instinct, knowing who the voice belonged to, her eyes meeting mine.

'I'm sorry I couldn't stop this. You don't need to worry about Taylor, I'll look after him with everything I have. I've been in love with your son since the moment I saw him… I still am.'

I didn't know how much she heard, if she heard at all, but I prayed the twitch of the corner of her lip meant she knew she had nothing to be scared of before her end.

*

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*

The gore and horrific display finally came to an end. I had witnessed executions more than I wished I ever had. None of them ever really left me, each leaving another scar on my mind at night.

I stared at the four lifeless bodies. Two should have been going home to their son and the other two I should have been leading out of the pack, so they could be free. Graham and Joseph lay facing each other, a hand reaching out seeking the other but never quite touching. Wherever they were now, I hoped they were together and free, which was more than I could do for them.

I was meant to protect them. Help them. And I'd failed. How would others trust me after this?

I knew what would happen to their bodies now. They would be taken and thrown in a grave, to be buried; a curse among werewolves. We burnt our dead on pyres, to release their souls and meet our maker. To bury a werewolf was said to place a curse on their soul that they would never be free. Not that I put much stock in 'curses', they were just superstitions. It didn't mean I disliked it any less. It was an insult, a humiliation.

The crowd that had been forced to gather had dispersed, leaving only the warriors to take the bodies to their fate. My father's hand suddenly grabbed me by the neck, slamming me face first into one of the posts still slick with warm blood.

"When I mind-link you, you answer, boy!" He hissed in my ear.

I pushed back, unable to fully overpower him, but I was stronger than I was two years ago when I began his brutal training. I could feel how his hold strained now, struggling to keep me completely still. He brandished the pure silver threaded whip in my face, strips of tissue still clung to it and my bare skin stung just from the proximity of the metal.

"You ever ignore your Alpha again or show such disrespect, there won't be a single strip of skin on your back by the time I'm done with you. Do you understand?" He spun me around, gripping my jaw in his bloodied hand.

With some effort, I managed to overpower and push him away. Hawk's snarl ripped from my throat and I found I had no want to hold my wolf back. I was unsure whether my father was enraged or impressed with my assertiveness.

"Get out of my sight. Tomorrow, mark my words, I will break you like never before in your training," he sneered, placing effort on each syllable.

I turned and hurried away, unsure what I wanted to escape most or where I wanted to go. The sounds that kept ringing in my ears, the images that continued to flash before my eyes, my father's twisted and evil perversions, this pack, the pressure, my failures… how was I meant to keep doing this?

I knew I had the support of my friends, that we all worked toward the same goals. But they looked to me for leadership. How could I tell them just how much I struggled, when they relied on me for their freedom? I could feel myself growing angrier as time passed by. Anger at myself for feeling like a coward around Nicholas, who still held fear over me. Anger that I had to hide my affections for Taylor when all I wanted to was to openly be able to go to him. And anger of the chosen mate, dangling over my head, reminding me that my future and my plans could end before I was ready to face my tormentor.

'He knows…' Imogen's sad voice entered my mind. 'A woman just rushed to his house, she must've been in the crowd and knew his parents.'

'Ok… thank you…'

My feet aimlessly but quickly led me to a small river not too far away. I dropped to it instantly, wanting to be rid of the blood that stained me, like my failure had quite literally been rubbed into my face. Once clean, after some effort, I leant back against a tree, my mind swimming in every mistake I had made that had led to the loss of lives that could have been avoided.

Night had descended before I knew it, though the summer warmth clung to the air. But I felt cold, shivering, reliving over and over the images of the day. Drowning in my self-pity, I realised I had forgotten the promise I had just made.

*

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*

I stood outside Taylor's home… he was all alone in there. He hadn't been able to say any final words to his parents. But if he had witnessed what I had today, it would have haunted him forever. I never wanted that to be a final memory for him.

I held my aura and moved closer, making sure no one was around. I carefully peered through the window where the soft light was emanating from. The living room was quiet and still, a single lamp switched on and one lone figure sat on the couch.

My sweet blond boy.

Hawk, uncharacteristically, was quiet and still in my mind, the odd whimper coming from him to see the young man we loved so distraught. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his chin rested on top. His pretty hazel eyes, rimmed red, were no less alluring. The light caught his heavily damp cheeks, stained from tears. All I wanted was to hold him, to tell him how sorry I was that I couldn't stop any of it. If I had moved faster, Taylor's parents would have been alive. I was the last person he needed right now; the son of the man who had just butchered his parents.

I promised his mother I would keep him safe, that I would ensure he was cared for. It would all be in secret and I wouldn't fail in this promise.

He would probably never know it, but at least she did, that Taylor would always be loved.