Rey Alfa Ryan

KING RYAN

The forest was too quiet. Every crunch of wet mud beneath my boots was too loud, too sharp. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in broken fragments, forming silvery pools on the path, but it wasn't enough to calm me.

He had been Alpha King long enough to know that this stillness wasn't normal, but rather trouble brewing silently. The forest was usually alive at night: owls, crickets, the whispers of wolves… but tonight everything held its breath.

And me too.

Weeks of unrest had strained the air. Whispered rebellions, frayed alliances, and outlaws bold enough to test me. My duty was to keep the packs together and my territories safe. I couldn't afford weakness. Not now, not ever, if I wanted peace around me.

I carried that weight with every step. At two meters tall, I was a presence before which men instinctively bowed, but respect wasn't enough to stop blades or betrayals rooted in the hearts of greedy creatures, including wolves. My eyes scanned every movement around me as chills ran through my body. I craned my neck and sensed invisible movements across my tattooed arms and neck. The ink that reminded me of my origin, my position, my struggle, and my foundation.

My wolf stirred restlessly inside me, a low growl rumbling in my chest.  

They're watching us.

My hand brushed against the hilt of my dagger: silver, efficient, light, weightless, and silent. A weapon I had mastered, though I wished I didn't need it so often. The air thickened. The forest was listening… and suddenly, at the speed of light, I found myself surrounded.

Seven renegades burst forth from the shadows, their growls breaking the silence and filling the air with noise.

Dirty fur, scarred skin, despair emanating from them. Renegades. Wolves driven wild by hunger and hatred. At the front, a brute covered in scars with teeth too yellow to be called either human or wolf.

"Alpha King," he spat, his voice venomous. "This is the end of you and your kingdom."

I almost laughed. Instead, a dark, sharp smile tugged at my lips.  

"Only seven of you consider yourselves strong enough to destroy me and my kingdom?" I bowed my head, mockery dripping from my tone. "I am deeply offended."

His face twisted with rage.  

—Kill him!

They launched themselves at once, trying to form a united front to put me at a disadvantage due to their numbers, but I remained motionless, watching them.

The first one came quickly, but I was faster. I slipped to his side like smoke, my fist crashing into his ribs with a crack that echoed through the trees. He collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain. Another lunged from behind; my dagger flashed, the silver slicing cleanly through the flesh. His cry was short and sharp as my dagger took his life instantly.

It became a rhythm, a violent dance: step, strike, dodge. Their claws gleamed; my blade struck, finishing them off one by one. My tattoos glowed faintly, pulsing to the rhythm of my heart and with the approval of my wolf. Each kill was swift and decisive.

When the frenzy ended, only one remained: the marked leader.

He staggered back, shaken, clutching his bleeding side. His eyes were wide open with something he hadn't had when he'd arrived so boastful: fear.  

—You… you should be dead. The witch said you would die tonight.

I took a step forward, calm and cold, with blood dripping from my blade as I remained indifferent, with a devilish smile on my face.  

"No. I'm not dead." My voice was harsh and unyielding. "But I am your nightmare."

A single blow, clean and swift. His body fell to the ground with a dull thud that silenced the forest once more.

I stood motionless, my chest heaving, the coppery scent of blood heavy in the air. My wolf finally fell silent, but the unease within me didn't dissipate at all. And if the witches were behind this… then the problem was closer than I thought. There must be a rift in the packs; somewhere, a high-ranking member was probably selling us out, perhaps for financial gain—human greed, after all.

I hated this part: the aftermath. Counting bodies. Knowing that each of my warriors left families behind. Some of the warriors who followed closely behind had been ambushed and killed by these renegades who, somehow, knew the route I would take before I even set foot on it. I detested unnecessary deaths, but greed and power made men reckless. They blinded them.

"Pathetic," hissed my wolf. *They never learn.*

I wiped my blade with steady hands, though my jaw ached from clenching it so tightly. The ambush had been desperate and clumsy. But their audacity unsettled me. Who was goading them? Who had given them the courage to defy me?

I reached my horse at the edge of the woods and took parchment and ink from the saddlebag. My handwriting was sharp and deliberate.

*Thomas,*

*I'll be in your pack in three days. Get ready. We need to talk.*

– King Alpha

I pressed my seal into the wax: a wolf howling beneath a crescent moon, and handed it to the messenger waiting by the trees. He galloped off, his horse disappearing into the night.

But I still hadn't moved.

Something was gnawing at me from within. The air was heavy. Thomas's lands were too silent… where were his warriors? His mating ceremony was only days away, and yet the shadows whispered all around him. My wolf was restless. He didn't trust Thomas. Neither did I.

My head was throbbing. I hated this: the killings, the constant threats, the endless cycle of bloodshed. I never asked for this crown, this burden, but I bore it because someone had to protect what others took for granted.

My fingers brushed against the bright ink of the tattoos along my neck. My instinct told me something was coming. Something bigger. Something I couldn't quite picture yet.

The moon descended further, the clouds rolled in and swallowed the light. The storm hadn't arrived yet, but I could feel it, like a hand reaching out to me from the darkness.

And I knew it…

It was coming straight towards me.