Chapter 2: Training - Alden

I love morning training. Watching my pack members gather together to help each other get stronger, not just for their own sake but for the betterment of the pack, is a rewarding experience. My dad always used to prefer training away from the pack or just with his council and it never sat well with me. An Alpha should train and fight alongside his pack, to show them that he has their back, but let’s face it, there are a lot of things my dad did as Alpha that I didn’t agree with it, but that’s all going to change.

'As it should. Your father is a prick and the way he treated this pack was a disgrace,' growls my wolf Atlas in indignation from his sanctuary in my mind.

'You don’t have to tell me. It’s not like I never tried to talk him around or persuade him to make changes, he just never fucking listened,' I say in irritation.

'I know, but our plan is working just like I told you it would. There was no point in speaking against him while he was Alpha, but now that we are Alpha, we’re free to change up whatever we want. I’m telling you now if he has fucked up our chances with our animai, I’m ripping his throat out,' he growls, the hackles on his white as snow fur, raising as he bares his teeth.

That’s been one of Atlas’ biggest concerns for years. He fears that our animai might not want us or will be scared of us because of the dynamics my father and grandfather have promoted in the pack. I don’t want my soulmate thinking I’d view her as anything less than perfect, or believing I’d treat her as subservient to me. Whoever my Luna is, I want them to rule this pack at my side as my equal. I want her fighting at my side, and loving this pack as much as I do, fighting to make it better and so does Atlas.

Since I took over as Alpha a couple months ago I’ve been making changes to the structure of the pack. We’re a strong pack, but we’re not a united pack, and just saying that feels like an oxymoron. A pack by definition is unified, so can we even call ourselves a pack if we keep living the way we do? Segregating Omegas, treating them as second-class citizens, or worse. Training the female warriors with kid gloves on. I’m not even a woman and I find it fucking insulting. She-wolves are tough as hell. They put up with our shit, they endure the agony of their heat every three months once they find their animai and trust me, you do not want to piss off a pregnant she-wolf because they will rip you apart and I do not mean that as a metaphor. They’re stronger than we give them credit for, yet my father and his father before him treated them as inferior.

Invictus is Latin for unconquerable or invincible, but we’re not living up to our name. We could really be Invictus if we trained everyone in the pack and treated everyone equally. We could be a beacon for other packs. No one would dare pick a war with us knowing that everyone in the pack is a trained fighter. Leaving half the pack untrained isn’t just wasteful, it’s stupid. If we’re ever attacked it’s the ones who aren’t trained who will be targeted. The best way to protect them and the pack as a whole is to make sure every man, woman and child knows how to protect themselves and their fellow pack members.

We managed to get through the warmups and cardio portion of the training just fine - this part of training is really about building stamina - but now it’s on to my favourite part.

“Alright, I’ve paired you all off and we’re now going to work on some new offensive moves. As always we’ll start in our human forms and then we’ll switch to our shifted forms,” announces my Gamma, Roland.

“This is going to be awesome!” Cheers my Delta, Carey.

“You won’t be saying that after I have you eating dirt,” says Roland, smugly.

“Oh yeah? Bring it on, Cueball,” Carey challenges, as I shake my head at the pair of them.

Roland Grey, Carey Melgren, and I have been best of friends since we were pups. Their dads were the previous Gamma and Delta, so we’ve grown up side by side and naturally, I appointed them as my Gamma and Delta and so far I don’t regret it.

Roland is a year older than me and only an inch shorter at 6’4”. There’s this stereotype people have when it comes to us wolves, thinking we’re all just born with defined muscles, which isn’t true. If you want muscles, you have to work hard to get them, and Roland works hard to get them. He’s just solid dark brown muscle from head to toe with dark brown eyes that border on black. His head is clean-shaven, but he has a perfectly trimmed beard and moustache, which gives some dimension to his otherwise cueball head.  

Carey, however, is the youngest of us at nineteen. He’s 6’2”, with earlobe-length brown hair, strong features, hazel-green eyes, and toned olive skin that has the women in the pack drooling over him. He kind of gives off that surfer dude vibe. He’s the least muscular of us guys, with Roland outdoing everyone, including me. Something about Gammas. Every Gamma I’ve ever met looks like they could go for Gold in a bodybuilding competition.

You may notice I haven’t mentioned my Beta, that’s because he has yet to show up for training. As if reading my mind, Carey chimes in.

“It’s not like Lark to be late for training,” he says with a frown.

“It’s not like Lark to be late for anything,” I clarify.

“I bet you an entire month’s salary I know exactly why he’s late,” Roland huffs. Sadly, I think we’re all on the same page.

We each get into formation with Roland and me demonstrating the techniques everyone will be learning today when my Beta, Lark Mathers finally decides to grace us with his presence.

“Where the hell have you been?” Roland grumbles. Really pisses him off when people are late for training… okay, he just hates people being late in general. He’s a stickler for tardiness.

“Sorry, guys, I got distracted,” he says, bashfully. Yeah, we can tell what distracted him when we catch the scent of sex wafting off of him like cheap perfume.

“I respect an animai bond as much as the next person, but you two could have waited until after training. You’re the Beta of this pack Lark, I expect punctuality. We’re the leaders of this pack, we’re supposed to lead by example and you being late because you’re getting it on with Romona does not send a good message,” I reprimand him. I’m trying to make changes to this pack – positive changes. I need my Beta working with me on this.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, Alden, it won’t happen again,” Lark says with genuine remorse.

“I hope not, now pair up with Carey and get to work,” I order him. I hate bossing around my best friends, but sadly that’s part of being an Alpha.

'You couldn’t just let him off the hook. If the pack saw you going easy on the other ranked members they’d either think you’re playing favourites or that they can easily walk all over you. You were right to address it right away,' Atlas reassures me.

'Thanks, buddy. Helps having a voice of reason in my head,' I commend him.

'I do what I can,' he says, casually.