The Alpha's Revenge

Aaron Rogers made a gesture with his gloved hand. "Bring him forward," he announced.

His assistant, Simone, tugged at the chain in her hand and the man before her stood. He was a tall fellow dressed in tattered clothing and his shaggy hair was matted to his head. It was dirty with leaves and dry twigs. He glanced warily at Simone before turning to Aaron. He put his bony hands together and said in a deep, hoarse voice, "Please, I beg of you. My children. Set them free."

"Name?" Aaron enquired, ignoring him.

He gulped and licked his cracked lips. "Sam."

Aaron wrote it down on his ledger and underlined it. "How many in your pack?"

"We are not a pack," he answered, shifting from one foot to another. "We live in these forests by ourselves. We have a small cabin. We don't bother anyone."

"How many in your immediate family?"

"Please," the man said, nearing the table. Simone pulled the chain forcefully and the man stumbled and fell to his knees. Aaron put a hand up and she stopped jerking the chain, but not before eyeing him threateningly.

Aaron stood from his wooden chair and made his way around the metallic table. Dried grass and hay crunched beneath his heavy boots and his black cape rustled in the wind. The wolfman moved back instinctively. There isn't much fight in him now, Aaron mused. Five days ago was an entirely different story. He killed two of his guards with the assistance of his wife. He promised to rip Aaron in two and devour the severed parts whole. It was why Aaron was forced to shove him into the cellar until he weakened considerably and it worked. He cannot say that he didn't feel bad for the children, though. He was not for violence toward young ones, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"How many in your immediate family?" he asked again, although he already knew the answer. They were all tied up in the cellar, awaiting execution.

"Five," Sam replied meekly.

"You ask for mercy," Aaron began. "You want me to spare your children. You say you live in a cabin in the woods and that you don't bother anyone, but you are a liar, Sam. Thirteen innocent people have been found dead in the vicinity of your home. There were four children amongst them."

It was a disturbing scene. Some parts of the victims were gnawed to the bone. The children were a particularly gruesome sight. When Aaron heard of the tragedy, he knew he had to intervene. The townsfolk were terrified. Nobody was safe. He cannot find it in his heart to be merciful to Sam and his family.

Werewolves were a danger to society.

Sam's breath quickened. He stammered, "T-the children wish to play. They didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"But they did," he sneered. "You are a danger to society and threats must be eliminated to restore peace. They call these parts of the forest haunted because of you and your family. You are tormenting this town and you are butchering innocents."

"Please," he cried, putting his hands together. "My wife and I will take the responsibility for our children's actions, but spare them. They are very young. They can be trained and disciplined."

"Who will train them?" Aaron asked. "Who will discipline them? I am not fit to discipline a wolf and neither is anyone I know. You are the only family of wolves in this area. That is out of the question."

"Please," he repeated desperately.

Aaron couldn't say that the man's pleading eyes didn't affect him. After all, it was in the wolf's nature to assert dominance, and being unruly and savage was deeply rooted in them. However, if their ferocity threatened innocent lives, they had to be dealt with and punished. Death was the only plausible solution. Warnings and pleadings were never pointless. He tried countless times and he ended up regretting it each and every time.

He exchanged a glance with Simone before returning to his seat. He picked up his pen and wrote down 'kin of Sam' in bold. He wrote down the number of the wolves and the date of their execution. He could hear Sam whimpering but he ignored him. His job wasn't an easy one but he found solace in the fact that he was saving human lives. He would never have sought them out if they chose to remain peaceful and hunted merely animals as everyone else.

Once he finished, he stood. The ax was behind him in a leather case. He felt the edge of the blade and decided that it would do. He didn't listen to anything else Sam told him. He finished the job and wiped his face with a handkerchief afterward. He then asked Simone to bring the wife and children and he waited at the table for their arrival.

They were even weaker than Sam. When his wife saw his body, she whimpered and covered the smallest child's eyes. Aaron was forced to deduce the ages. The oldest son, no longer a child, was around sixteen, the second oldest was approximately thirteen, and the youngest of all three was six or seven. Aaron didn't have children yet, his profession was far too risky, but he could imagine how awful and painful it was to lose a child. He had seen it in the faces of many parents as he cut down their children. It wasn't a task he was fond of or even grew used to, it just had to be done.

"Please," she begged, unable to stand on her two feet. She knelt as her husband did. "They will be good. They will be better."

"I am sorry," Aaron said, the finality in his tone unmistakable. He turned to Simone and nodded. She undid the chain on the mother's neck after a firm warning and then did the same with the children. The youngest one was so thin that the shackles barely fit him. Aaron ignored the pang he felt.

He asked the woman to step forward but she did something unexpected. She lunged at Simone. Simone was a strong woman but her sudden attack caught her by surprise. The two oldest boys jumped at Aaron and they yelled at the youngest one to run. The child couldn't move for a few seconds, he simply stared at them with wide eyes. The second oldest kicked him in the chest and he fell backward. Aaron grabbed the back of his neck easily and squeezed. The oldest one was throwing weak punches at his back. Simone had already taken care of the mother.

The youngest one stood up and ran in the opposite direction, straight toward the woods. Simone moved to run after him but the older children were beginning to shift. In wolf form, they would be stronger. So Simone grabbed the oldest one while Aaron dealt with the other one.

The youngest one was long gone by the time they finished.

"We should go after him," Simone said. "He can't be far."

Aaron thought about her suggestion for a while. Perhaps he was getting old, but his task wasn't getting easier. The family's brave effort to save the youngest of them all touched his heart in unspeakable ways. He couldn't imagine himself hunting him down. Besides, he was very young. Too young to survive in the forest all by himself.

"Aaron."

"Let him be," he finally said. "He won't survive a night in the forest. It's no place for a young wolf."

"You can't be serious," she said.

"It is my decision," he said. "If you wish to go into the forest to look for him, be my guest, but I will not do it. And you will not have my permission."

Simone glared at him but said nothing else.

He looked at the mess around him and his spirit left him. She started cleaning but complained the entire time. Aaron ignored her even though he knew she had a point. Letting them run was dangerous. Wolves were vindictive and he had heard many stories. But the one who got away was only a child, a harmless one at that. As he cleaned the mess, unbeknownst to Simone, he decided that he would never hunt another hybrid family again.

He sat in his office back home with a glass of sherry in front of him. He stared at his open ledger, which had tiny splatters of Sam's blood. Something about that family affected him. He had no control over his feelings. He picked up his pen and thought to write something, anything to mark that significant day. He could think of nothing. He closed the book and stowed it away in a box along with his ax and black leather cape. The cape had been a gift from his father and it was a family heirloom. Only hunters wore it but the Rogers had been hunting wolves for centuries.

He sat once more and drank.

He felt better than he had in years.