Alcatraz 1259 Novels & Stories

The paint was peeling now, chipped from the years. Atlas Andino's car sped around the block, squealing to a stop out front of his house. Atlas had been our neighbor since I was eleven. His family lived on the other side of town, moving here once their house had finished being built. Atlas's Dad was the Alpha of our pack, his wife the Luna. Both were fair to the rest of us, but were extremely strict. Our pack was the biggest in the country, the 'Full Moon Pack' our name. I had always hated the name of our pack, thinking it was too bland.

—the absolute deepest point of Alcatraz, buried three thousand meters beneath the Pacific seabed. "Holy..." Ben Carter’s teeth began to chatter instantly, the sound like dice rattling in a cup. He hugged his tactical vest, which was currently stuffed with three hard drives and a half-eaten protein bar. "Why is it... why is it so cold? Are we in a morgue?"

Casper ran to him and peered over his shoulders. It was a journal of an Alpha Tate from 1959. And on the right page were scrawled the following words: "On this day, 12th of June 1959. three wolves found dead at border. Beaten and butchered. One with a tattoo. Crescent with a circle around it."