The Broken Alpha
Atticus
The sound of Lily’s howl made something earthen, something primal, roar to life in Atticus’s chest. He howled back, an Alpha calling to his Luna, to his mate. There were no complications here, like this: there was just the craggy silhouette of trees above and the rumpled earth below, with darkness filling every cavern in between.
It was not the darkness of hate or shadows; it was the cool balm of the shade on a summer’s day, the comfort of solitude shared with another. Atticus revelled in it, his huge black body blurring with it as he moved through the woods.