Novel & Cerita Lone Wolf Alpha Tree Stand

"Whatever it is, Alpha Ron has given us only one night. This back mountain will be sealed since we're hunting. Let's catch something we like. I'll take that golden lion." "Hahaha, Alpha Duke, you have good taste. I want that golden lion too." "Alright, time is short. Let's go." After a few chuckles among the werewolves below, they left again, leaving behind ashes from the burning torches scattered on the ground. I released my held breath suddenly, "Phew," I sighed deeply, then turned and shifted my already numb ankles, carefully climbing down from the tree. "Caw—caw—" A shrill, hoarse crow suddenly came from above, and the branches shook a few times. My heart skipped a beat as I looked up to

but only her wolves understood what she said. Alpha Drake was still battling with Greskin and had succeeded in shutting its mouth but the wolf was unlike anything he had ever seen. It suddenly disappeared and appeared from behind him and slammed into Alpha Drake sending him flying several feet ahead until he fell to the ground, denting it significantly. " Hak'ath na lar'um" Elora said from where she stood and Greskin entered the dent and pulled Alpha Drake from it before he bit his arm. Alpha Drake growled and tried to free his arm but Greskin bit off his arm and ate it.

Tonight was that opportunity. I pressed my back against the rough bark of a tree at the edge of their settlement, my heartbeat steady but my senses on high alert. The night was still, save for the distant hoot of an owl. Beyond the village, the Alpha’s lodge stood tall, its wooden walls fortified with heavy logs, the windows shut against the cold. I had one job. One simple task that could change everything. Steal the Alpha’s blood. It was madness, but madness had always been my ally.

POV: LUCIAN VAEL Midnight in the Deadwoods was so quiet that lesser creatures might have mistaken it for peace. I stood at the outer perimeter of Ironveil territory, resting one hand against the bark of an ancient oak. The snowstorm had settled into a thin, icy mist that clung to the pine needles. Half a mile through the trees, the wolf Alpha’s fortress rose against the dark sky, all heavy gates, watchtowers, and silver-coated bars.

I step through the tree line. I open my throat. And I let the Alpha command out without a lid on it, without the management and control I keep on it every ordinary moment. I let it out fully and completely in the way I almost never do, the way that shakes the air itself, the way that even the trees feel. The war cry of an Alpha fighting for what is his. The clearing hears it a full half second before I breach the tree line, and I watch it move through them like a wave, forty wolves spinning toward the sound, and in that spin, in that fractional moment of reoriented attention, thirty wolves come out of the dark from three directions at once.

I just sharpened this set. I sigh as I stand up, readying myself again for another attack when an earth-shattering howl sounds from behind us. Shit. Looks like Alpha Wade is here. The black wolf growls, frustrated, and slowly backs away into the woods, little droplets of blood where he stood as he crosses the borderline watching and waiting for us to come to his territory.

I didn't kill this one. A massive shadow breaks through the treeline, and the atmosphere changes instantly. Leyton. He slams into the fray like a wrecking ball, followed by a dozen of his best fighters. The rioters begin to break. The sheer power of a True Alpha is enough to make the weaker wolves drop to their bellies in submission. But as the fighting starts to die down, I see something else. A flicker of movement near the edge of the dark woods, away from the lanterns and the firelight.

I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, appreciating all of this. I was not sure how long I sat outside. The sun was creeping further up the tree line, sharp beams of light cutting through the branches. My eye caught a wolf running through the trees. The movement was quick, and it stopped when it saw me. The tree line was dark, but I could recognize the eyes; Alpha Callan. His wolf turned back behind the trees. A moment later, Alpha Callan returned to the tree line, wearing nothing but a pair of low hanging shorts. If a man could be beautiful, that was how I would describe Alpha Callan. His chest was chiseled like nothing I had ever seen. And was that an eight pack?

The waning gibbous hung a little too low in the sky, with its silver light cast through the covering of the trees. As an Alpha werewolf, Ryan could feel the power flowing through his body, the adrenaline throbbing in his veins. The air was thick. With each step he took toward the battle line and the crush of each branch and twig beneath his paws, he was like a different being. His eyes, sharpened by wolf senses, caught the details provided by the moonlit sky and the long illuminated shadows of the large trees around them. He could hear the sudden rustling of leaves and snagging of branches.

I stayed perfectly still, crouched low beneath the trunk of the fallen tree, my eyes widening as I looked through the thick fog toward the bottom of the mountain trail. A faint light was visible through the dense trees just fifty yards away. I sharpened my wolf vision, focusing past the falling snow until the shapes in the dark became clear. It was a temporary camp. Three large tents were pitched in a circle around a small fire pit. A dozen large wolves in iron armor and red capes were sitting around the flames, sharpening their swords and drinking from wooden flasks. It was Hilton’s front line. The northern Alphas hadn't just stayed at the borders; they had sneaked their main groups deep in