The Alpha Rage

The morning sun had barely broken over the horizon, casting a faint orange hue across the dark pines that bordered the estate, when Derek awoke with a jolt. He wasn't a man who believed in dreams or omens, but the pounding in his chest and the strange hollowness in the pit of his stomach unsettled him. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

He sat up sharply in his bed, breathing heavily, the sheets tangled around his legs. His wolf stirred restlessly beneath the surface, growling lowly. He could feel it in his bones—that primal instinct that had kept his bloodline at the top of the werewolf hierarchy for centuries.

As he descended the grand marble staircase, he called over his shoulder to the nearest guard.

“Bring Kieran to the interrogation room. I want him ready within ten minutes.”

The guard bowed quickly and ran toward the dungeons.

Derek moved with purpose, his mind already preparing for the questions he’d pose, the truths he would force out of Kieran today. He had given the prisoner one night of mercy. That was more than he deserved. Today, he would learn who helped him, and who else had betrayed Derek's trust.

But as fate would have it, Kieran would not be brought up that morning.

Before the guards could return, a high-pitched scream tore through the quiet halls of the mansion. It came from the west wing—where Diva's quarters were.

The sound made Derek freeze.

A maid burst into the corridor, her apron flapping around her ankles, her face white with panic. She stumbled down the hallway until she reached the great hall, where Derek stood like a shadow against the rising sun.

“My Alpha!” she cried breathlessly. “Luna Diva—she’s missing!”

A second guard arrived at the same moment, panting, his face grim. “Alpha, the dungeon… Kieran’s cell… it’s open. He’s gone.”

Time stopped.

Derek's golden eyes narrowed to slits, and he turned his full attention to the two trembling figures before him.

“What?” he asked, his voice deathly quiet.

“The guards on duty found his cell empty,” the man explained. “The lock wasn’t broken—it was unlocked from the inside. We don’t know how.”

The maid, trembling like a leaf, added, “Luna Diva’s bed hasn’t been slept in. The sheets are untouched. And there’s this awful smell in the room… something sweet, like perfume, but bitter too. Her window was smashed open.”

A storm brewed inside Derek’s chest. He turned abruptly. “Sound the alarm.”

The howl of the emergency horn echoed across the estate, sharp and terrifying. Wolves stirred. Guards spilled out of their barracks. Warriors leapt from their training routines, already bracing themselves for a threat.

Within minutes, the courtyard was flooded with Derek’s forces. Dozens of guards lined up, awaiting orders. The tension in the air was thick and suffocating.

Derek stood on the steps, arms crossed, radiating fury. His voice boomed through the courtyard like thunder.

“Who was stationed at the west wing last night?”

Three guards stepped forward nervously.

“Did you see anything suspicious? Any movement?” he asked coldly.

One stammered, “No, Alpha. All was quiet. We rotated shifts as usual. Nothing seemed amiss.”

Derek advanced toward them slowly, every step laced with menace. “Nothing seemed amiss?” he repeated mockingly. “You mean to say someone broke into my mansion, walked past your sorry asses, and took my prisoner and my future Luna—and none of you saw a single damn thing?”

They lowered their heads in shame.

“The hallway smelled strange,” one of them whispered. “Like burnt herbs.”

“We also found faint footprints in the corridor leading to the wine cellar entrance,” another added. “But the trail ends there.”

Derek turned to his Beta, Lucan, who had just arrived, his face grim. “Wine cellar?”

Lucan nodded slowly. “There’s an old network of tunnels under the mansion—from the Werewolf Wars. It was sealed decades ago. Forgotten by most.”

Derek clenched his jaw. “Apparently not forgotten by everyone.”

He turned back to the assembled warriors. “From this moment forward, no one enters or leaves the territory without my direct approval. Lock the borders. Send patrols out along the tunnel routes. I want this estate torn apart if it means finding how they got in.”

Lucan stepped closer. “You think this was planned?”

Derek laughed bitterly. “Of course it was planned. Someone knew about the tunnels. Someone knew how to avoid the guards. Someone drugged or distracted them, and used perfume—or something stronger—to knock Diva out without raising the alarm.”

A low growl escaped his throat. “This was no rescue. This was a declaration of war.”

His gaze swept the courtyard.

“Search every room, every passage. Question every servant. If any of them so much as flinched wrong last night, bring them to me. We were infiltrated.”

Lucan nodded. “Should I activate the trackers?”

“Yes. And send a raven to the southern territory. Ronan has made his move. Now it’s time I make mine.”

He turned back to the window, his eyes fixed on the treeline far in the distance.

Diva had been his. She was his future, his claim, his symbol of control. And now she was gone, likely in the hands of the very man he had intended to break through Kieran.

The betrayal cut deep. But the fury it birthed burned deeper.

He turned away, fists clenched.

“Ready the army,” he growled. “We ride at dusk.”