The Broken Alpha
He would have killed them all, one by one, their thick-skulled Alpha first, had it not been for his dad.
He’d had to begrudgingly thank him for his foresight when White Oak had laid down the real reason behind their visit: to offer them enough basic crop to survive. They hadn’t wanted to hurt them; just to make a point. Atticus had nearly refused them on principle, but it was a windfall he knew wouldn’t land in his lap again.
But, he thought, striding through the open, grassy plains between packs, his own marching behind him, he really had to thank Red Ripper for destroying the age-old code between werewolves. Why fight during a full moon when they could wage war whenever they wanted?