1 | Alpha
❝I have a theory that selflessness and bravery aren't all that different.❞

In that moment of rage and torment, I do what any other rogue in my position would do: I blindly run head first into battle.

I hurl myself forwards, picking up my sword on the way, unsure of where I'm going. Unsure of what I'm going to do.

The man who stabbed Dylan stands there, power and glory writhing in his grip as he claims his sword from my comrade's fallen body. It was clear to tell that he had no emotional effect after killing an innocent boy.

He gazes up at me, but that's the last thing he does: my sword rips through his body before he can contemplate what's going on.

Like Dylan's, his death had been short. Maybe I should have let it drag out, letting torture rule him for the last few minutes of his tedious, miserable life. I'm not a psychopath, but he killed Dylan. No one killed my best friend and got away with it.

There aren't many pack wolves left, but those that remain stare at me, hands twitching to use their weapons. That's when I pick him out: the alpha.

He was like a thorn on a rose, sticking out like a sore thumb. It was obvious he was in charge because of the power that rolled off him in waves. Not literally, but I could still feel his authority engulf me as I charged towards the corpse of his fallen comrade.

I collect my sword, now encrusted with blood. The alpha stares at me, only ten meters away. I could tell by his calculating look that he was trying to find a way to solve the situation. He would kill me - or at least try to - but he had to figure out how to do so. I had already proved that I was a hard target.

I place my feet so that they're shoulder width apart, sword held protectively across my body. There was no escape for me now: if I ran, the much faster male wolves would indefinitely catch up with me. I had no hope. But I wasn't going to die. Not like Dylan had.

"Why?" I ask the pack through gritted teeth. They all stare at me, dumbfounded that I had had the nerve to speak. "We did nothing to you."

The alpha steps forwards. I step back. "We were sent here by the Alpha King to kill any rogues." The alpha hissed, making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. There was something ominous about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

His face was handsome with a sharp jawline, and a handsome shade of mouse brown that was cropped relatively short. His eyes were a deep blue, almost appearing jet due to the distance. There was a scar above his right eyebrow, although it had begun to fade with time.

I shake my head, almost tempted to laugh. It was obvious that this group of werewolves were not rogues, or any threat. "We're not rogues."

"You are not a pack under the influence of the Alpha King. Therefore, you are rogues." He snarled, making me want to slap his worthless face. It was a shame that he was too far away. "And ruthless, bloodthirsty beasts like yourself have no place in this world."

Anger rises in my chest once more, and this time, I can't flush it down. A growl begins to form on my lips, but I stop myself. If I growled, they would know that I could shift, and I didn't know what they would do to me if they knew the truth.

But the growl continues to develop, and I can't stop it.

Don't growl, Alaska. Don't you dare growl.

I can't help it: I growl.

The alpha raises an eyebrow, but I don't give him any more time to react. It was hard to tell whether they would want to kill me or keep me alive because of my 'gift'.

I rip through the clearing, sword raised above my head as I pounce, swinging it down in an almighty ark. It was stupid, fighting an alpha, but the more time I wasted, the better.

Clang. My blade is met by his own, except he thrusts it towards me, and the force causes me to stagger back, dropping my trusted weapon in the process. He was stronger than he looked.

In the blink of an eye, I punch him square in the face, but the blow seems to barely affect him. A single line of blood trickles from his nose, yet his face does not appear to be affected by the pain.

His body rams into mine as he pushes me against a tree, the air crushed from my lungs. Freezing metals meets the side of my throat as he threatens to slit the skin.

His face was now only a few centimetres away from mine, and it was easy to distinguish the strange flecks of silver floating in the sea of cobalt of his orbs. His eyes were beautiful, and for a moment they distracted me from my close encounter with death.

But as his hand presses harder, and more air is exasperated from my lungs, I know that this is reality. I would die soon: he would slit my throat, and after a minute, that would be that.

"Any last words, bitch?" He snarls at me, showing almost perfect white teeth, except I spot one that is slightly chipped.

I spit in his face. The knife presses further.

The rough bark of the tree seems to grate me as I try to shrink away from my ultimate death, but I knew that there was nowhere to go. That there was nowhere to hide. Within this clearing of frost-bitten land and smouldering ruins, I would die. Just like Lily. Just like Dylan.

Everyone was safe though, so my death wouldn't be in vain. They would remember me... right?

I guess it was a good thing dying a hero.

Thinking about Dylan, my brain clicks on again, the cogs whirring and spinning as they process my thoughts. Dylan always did the right thing. Even if he wasn't here anymore, he always knew what to do, whereas I on the other hand didn't.

What would Dylan do? I ask myself.

I would stand here and wait for death.

But Dylan? He would save his life at any cost, even if it meant exposing himself.

With as much power I can muster, I push the alpha from my body. However strong I might be for a female, I was no match for an alpha. I knew that, but I pushed him away anyway.

His grip falters for a second, and I grab my chance.

Bones crackle and snap as my body is consumed by a horrific pain, my sin prickling, flesh churning into some beast I never asked to be. It was a type of torture that you couldn't imagine; not even in nightmares.

In a second, the pain is over, but it seems to take centuries. Every click of a bone reverberates for eternity before the pain subsides, and another wave sweeps through my body one more.

I feel my face elongate, my senses sharped, and snow beneath my four paws. Werewolves were the same as the typical wolf species, except slightly larger. We could heal faster than a human, but not much faster.

I glance up from my pitch black paws, wondering if my hazel eyes were much more vibrant when I was in my wolf form. The alpha just glares at me, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he deciphers what is the best thing to do.

I growl at my opposition as he sets down his sword, bones bucking until before me stands a much larger brown wolf, the scar still above his eyebrow. It was strange to be facing such a monster of power, but I could still win this fight: I was faster and swifter than he anticipated.

"So you can shift." He growls, raising his head as he sizes me up. There was no point: he was already half a meter taller than me. "But that won't save you."

I know it won't. But I was trying to be Dylan, which so far had turned out ok. For starters, I hadn't been stabbed yet.

I don't reply. Instead, I just growl. It's enough to let him know that I'm not going down without a fight.

The brunette wolf bolts towards me, his speed taking me by surprise. The air makes way for him as he rushes towards my wolf, each fall of his paw sounding like thunder rumbling.

Using my agility, I manage to slide out of his way, but only just. His paw swipes thin air, but if I had been a second later, his claws would have made contact with my fur coat.

I take a breath, trying to calm down my racing heart. The steady beat doesn't falter for a second.

The alpha turns, and we begin to circle, challenging who is brave enough to attack.

"Scared?" He mocks, teeth bared as if he was somewhat smiling.

"Do I looked scared?" I snarl back.

The wolf doesn't answer. His hackles rise and his lip raises, revealing more of his yellowing canines. Deep blue eyes glare at me. Minutes tick by.

And then it all happens at once. In a blur of brown, his figure is in front of me, his weight knocking me to the ground. I roll over in the snow, but his paws have caged me before I even get the chance to stand up.

His eyes look directly into mine, his neck shielded from my view so I couldn't tear out his windpipe: shame, I would have possibly done it.

I feel vulnerable within the enclosure of limbs. I had known that this was a fight I was unlikely to win, but I didn't realise it would be over so quickly. I had expected myself to give more of a fight.

Staring at his darker, chocolate pigmented underbelly it was obvious that he had won, and I had lost.

Moments tick by. I become more paranoid. When would he deliver the killing blow? Would my death be quick, or torturous?

The alpha doesn't move in for the kill. Instead, with his brown fur swaying in the zephyr, he yaps one word that sends a shiver down my spine. "Shift."

He wanted me to shift? But why? I was a rogue - he should kill me. I would rather he got it over and done with.

I try to writhe my way out of the cage, but it's useless, so I do as he says. Our clothes rip when we transform, but we have found a material that is able to shift with us. Luckily I was wearing it, otherwise I would have to face a group of men naked.

Bones crackle and snap back into place, and I can feel my straight hair run down past my shoulders one more. My warmer winter clothes have shredded due to the shift, so I stand in the freezing cold wearing tight black leggings and matching T-shirt. The garments were so light it felt as though I was wearing nothing at all.

The alpha shifts before me, and as soon as I'm about to make a dash for it, he grabs my arm and holds onto it for dear life.

He roughly pushes me against a tree once more, although this time there's no knife forcing the air from my lungs.

His face is scrunched up with anger, still enraged from me murdering one of his pack members. Welcome to my world, jerk-face. Your fellow pack member just murdered Dylan as well, so the feeling's mutual.

"Give me one good reason why I should let you live." Not a question, a demand.

"You've kept me alive for this long, so there must be some reason." I point out. It was true: he had already had enough chances to kill me, so why hadn't he done it?

The alpha smirks for a second, but then points a finger in my face accusingly. "The Alpha King said to bring any shifting females with us." He informed me. "But he won't know if I 'accidentally' killed one."

I try as hard as I can to keep my face blank: I would not give him the satisfaction of my fear. "Go ahead." I shrug my shoulders. "I'm a rogue, so I was bound to die soon anyway."

I don't generally seem to have a way with words, but the werewolf in front of me doesn't know how to react.

Someone tugs on the shoulder of the alpha, our eye contact breaking in a blink. The other boy was younger, but he still looked as though he held some important role within the pack.

"Chase, lay off." He nodded towards me. "She's coming with us."

The alpha - Chase - turns back to glare at me, his jaw clenching one more time before he loosens his grip on my body. "You're going to wish that I killed you."

*A/N - First chapter! Good, not good? Sorry it wasn't as long as the other chapters, but the next one will hopefully will be and I will not make it boring.

So what does everyone think of Chase? I think Alaska pretty much summed that up for me.

I want to thank you all for reading. This has already got 400 reads, which is amazing!

-Lotte

Gif: Alaska running at Chase because wtf not
Song: Laura Palmer - Bastille

Dedicated to the amazing CailinSpraoi for being an amazing friend and author: check out her story Control The Beat, and her profile in general. I also love the name Astrid, but I'm saving that for another book ;)