A young woman slinks into the shadows of the trees, a hooded shawl cloaking over her face in crimson shades. Beads of sweat trickle down from her forehead as her gaze darts back and forth, double checking the premise with laser precision. Tonight, the stars have already peeked through, emerging into the midnight sky with their luminous glow. As she navigates through the wintery woods, gliding through white tree trunks and the ongoing snowfall with fumbled haste, a stampede of wolves stalk after her, their growls and snarls materializing into an ominous cacophony.

The Grave Shadow Pack.

Known as one of the most powerful werewolf communities in existence, The Grave Shadow Pack has been hunting vampires feasting on their livestock for quite a while now. With relentless determination, they've been able to conquer all hurdles that come their way thus far.

Except for these pesky bloodsuckers, apparently.

And despite this woman's mousy image and petite frame, with her doe-like amber eyes and frizzy hazelnut curls, her guilty fangs are no exception.

Suddenly, Alpha Jax Sterling, the leader of the Grave Shadow Pack, stands before her in a blurred flash, a whirlwind of snowflakes crashing behind him. 

Since he'd just recently shifted out of his feral wolf form to his humanoid one, a pair of black wolf ears still sit on his head from the transformation, his wolf tail following suit. As a scowl darkens his pale face, his red eyes seethe with an unspoken fury. His comrades rush in soon after, crowding around their target in a similar fashion; they're on their legs now instead of their paws as they all shift into their humanoid forms. Their bones snap back into place, their bodies morphing from animal to man for a grotesque second.

"Eliza Jeralt," Jax addresses her, grim and stern, "you've been a real greedy bitch. From feasting on our meat supply to stealing our crops... If you weren't already an undead leech, you would've died at our hands by now."

Trembling under the weight of his glare, of all their glares, Eliza simply bares her fangs in a shaky smile, her lips wobbling, and hitches her arms up in a shrug. "Er, whoops? Sorry for being hungry? Food has been hard to find around this time of the year and there's not exactly a lot to go around. Surely, you must understand..."

Jax's right-hand man, a werewolf by the name of Zeke, rolls his eyes. "And surely you must understand what the concept of stealing is and why we're not so fond of it."

"I really ask that you spare me mercy anyway," Eliza implores, her voice wavering with a hint of caution. She brings a hand over the gold and red amulet looped around her neck. "'Cause I really, really, really don't wanna have to do this if you don't..."

At that, Zeke raises an eyebrow, a silent inquisition reflected behind his circular glasses.

Suddenly, the sharp boom of a group swooping in from the trees answers his question. With the tables turned against them, it's the werewolves that are surrounded by a team of vampires now, all of whom possess identical crimson cloaks that billow around them like wings.

Eliza lets out a dry laugh, a clumsy and awkward sound in this crisp winter air. "You didn't think that you wolves were the only ones who worked in packs, did you?"

Even with her meek mannerisms, her words and infamy still bear a sinking weight, a chilling note of suspense. The silence that looms over them is taut with tension as the vampires and wolves circle around each other.

Then, exactly one second later, shit hits the fan.

One of Eliza's vampires makes the first move.

In the blink of an eye, a vampire hurls himself against Zeke, tackling Grave Shadow's second-in-command against a tree. A loud crack resounds from him, resulting in a shattered canine whine.

A few minutes later, everyone is charging at each other, thrown into the messy throes of fist fights in the snow. Blood is shed, clothes are torn, bruises become brutal turning points. Claws extend, fangs descend, all bringing with them fresh wounds. The metallic stench of multiple brawls at once rises to the surface, tackling their noses with a copper burn as their growls, hisses, and screams echo all around them.

Just then, a low howl cuts through the madness, freezing everyone in place with its deep and resonating tone. Punches are pulled, kicks are paused, and immediately, everyone swivels their heads to the direction of the bitch who dares to interrupt them.

Alpha Jax Sterling, in the meanwhile, is the only one who casually ignores the sound of a new third party entering the ring. With a frown, he resumes what he was doing earlier and slams a vampire, who he'd been in the middle of grappling by the neck, into the ground in a flurry of snow. As a muffled cry resounds from the vampire, Jax lets go and flicks his gaze from one enemy to the next.

Because he's all too familiar with that fucking howl. 

Standing in the middle of the field is none other than Alpha Cyrus Pierce from the Blood Moon Pack, accompanied by four others of his kind.

Also known as Jax's eternal pain in the ass.

The haughty smirk on Cyrus's lips widens upon seeing Jax, flashing a peek of his sharp teeth. His silver hair, swooped to the left in a half-shaved style, gleams like a diamond underneath the light of the moon. As his white wolf ears perk up with interest, a sign that he'd recently shifted from his feral form, his tanned skin contrasts with the snowfall that surrounds them.

"Of course it's you," Jax spits out, the red in his eyes a menacing glow. Even as the tick in his jawline becomes more prominent, he still attempts to put on an indifferent front. "I'd know that shitty howl from anywhere."

Cyrus barks out a broken laugh, loud and obnoxious. "Ha! If you know me that well, then you know that I take what I want. And right now? I want your blood on my hands if you don't fuck off. The vampires were supposed to be ours to brutalize."

In visible disbelief, Jax reels his head back. "In case you haven't noticed, because sometimes your skull is just that fucking thick, we had business with these leeches first."

"And we're gonna be the ones to finish it." Cyrus spares a warning glare over the vampires that are currently witnessing their reunion. "You're not the only ones they stole crap from."

"All right, enough of your bullshit." Jax clenches his scarred hands into fists. He raises them, shifting into a defensive stance. "Get the fuck out. Last warning."

"Seriously?" Amused, Cyrus brings his own calloused hands together, giving his knuckles a few notable cracks. "You already know the answer is no."

Jax doesn't even bother to say anything else because he's that done with Cyrus fucking Pierce from the Blood Moon Pack. Instead, he ducks down low at first, to falsely lead Cyrus into thinking that he's targeting his legs, before suddenly launching into an uppercut instead.

While Cyrus recoils from the blow, Jax utilizes his super speed once more by yanking onto his hair and smashing a hoisted knee into his face. Groans of awe can be heard from vampires and wolves alike as they remain stunned bystanders to the gruesome beginning of this alpha vs alpha duel.

Once these two start yet another one of their fights, it's best to avoid their way. There's been times before where anyone who dares to come in between is guaranteed a black eye.

A stream of blood gushes down from Cyrus's nose, smearing his mouth with crooked streaks of red, as he's knocked back into a pile of snow. The weight of Jax's body traps him, triggering Cyrus to erratically thrash around, but to no avail. A sequence of punches soon rains down, forcing Cyrus to extend his arms out in a blockade.

Though Jax is putting everything into each blow, all while burning out the last of his super speed for the night, it's not enough to make a breakthrough. Even if he's faster, Cyrus has always been stronger.

Fucking asshole.

Because it's not just his strength, it's also how Cyrus carries himself in a way Jax never can. It's the way that he gets up, no matter how many times he's fallen and no matter how many hits he's taken.

It's the way in which he just exists that will always and forever aggravate Jax.

As his super speed fizzles out, Cyrus takes this chance to reverse their roles. With a grunt, Jax's back collides with the cold, a shard of agony shooting up his spine. One of Cyrus's fists makes contact with the left side of his head, a vengeful strike that sends Jax into a bout of intense dizziness.

Meanwhile, the rest of their pack members have already scattered, all in hot pursuit of the vampires now fleeing the scene. As sworn enemies, they're competing to see which pack can get to the bloodsuckers first.

And even though Jax is hurting, bruising, losing, he's still conscious enough to grasp at a handful of snow before hurling it into Cyrus's eyes. Cyrus yowls from the icy intrusion, his retinas flashing with white hot pain.

As Jax gains the upper hand, he's quick to leap to his feet before kicking a blinded Cyrus to the side. He launches him against a nearby tree in a singular swing. Cyrus's back smashes into the trunk so hard that the branches threaten to snap off from the impact of his muscular body.

Just as Jax swipes out a dagger from the pocket of his rugged leather jacket, ready to butcher him up and carve out his insides, Cyrus suddenly lunges onto the ground on all fours. His hands expand out with longer claws. White wolf ears bend low and a snarl rips from his throat. He doesn't transform into his feral form, he's still human, but he does let out a howl loud enough to make the air around them quake.

With his grip on the dagger's hilt tightening, Jax clicks his tongue in annoyance. This fucker never quits, does he?

And though Cyrus is slow to regenerate from the snow attack earlier, those blue eyes of his still red and stinging, his resilience truly shows here. Because instead of accepting defeat, the dumb mutt throws himself in a blind fury against where he thinks Jax is.

He lunges straight into a pile of snow, crashing where Jax would have been if he hadn't stoically stepped over to the side just now.

"Come to stab me behind the back again with your little toy knives?!" Cyrus tosses his head back up. Some frazzled snowflakes sweep over his silver hair. Erratically, he swings at the wind in an attempt to get a feel of where Jax is. "Like the Grave Shadow coward that you are? Fucking do it already!"

For once, Jax can agree to that.

In a blurred motion, he promptly steps behind Cyrus and yanks him down by the collar of his jacket. Just as he's about to plunge the dagger into his neck, that's when Cyrus suddenly catches his dominant wrist and twists. With a repressed wince, Jax flinches as the dagger is wrung out from his hand. Before he can aim for the groin with his knee next, Cyrus beats him to the chase and bites him in the fucking face.

With an agonizing shout, he can feel Cyrus's teeth latching onto the flesh of his left cheek. It doesn't last long and Cyrus has already pulled away, but it still draws blood and torn skin.

After getting body slammed into the ground once more, Cyrus now hovers over Jax, his beefy arms trapping him from side to side.

Jax huffs out a frustrated sigh. "Aren't you supposed to be blind?"

"I can still smell. Tricked you, didn't I?"

Jax is almost impressed. Almost.

There's still blood smeared across Cyrus's face from earlier as he grins. A demented look twists his tanned complexion and his mouth is wide enough to reveal canine fangs dripping with Jax's blood. His eyes gleam with feral mirth as his tongue swipes away the remnants of Jax's blood off his teeth.

Jax hopes he tastes awful.

He's also tempted to spit in his eye out of retaliation, but he's not a complete heathen. He actually prefers to have some standards while fighting. After all, that's what makes him better than Cyrus. Bloodshed and sensitive pressure spots—like the groin—are somehow fine, but saliva and bites? Off the table. He's not as eager to know what this idiot feels like in his mouth.

Instead, he just says, "Not bad for a Blood Moon numbskull."

Cyrus is still smiling that creepy ass smile as he smoothly reflects back with a predictable reply. "Just admit your losses already, Shadow Shit."

Just for that terrible nickname, Jax lurches forward and purposely smashes their foreheads together. He hates whenever Cyrus used to do that in many of their previous fights before, but this time he's the one initiating the same move.

As Cyrus is down and startled by his own signature move being used against him, Jax takes back his handy dagger before stabbing him in the back. He twists the blade into the thick meat of his flesh too, just for good measure.

The throbbing headache that he's inflicted upon himself is but a minor obstacle in the grand scheme of things. Cyrus should honestly be the one to blame for Jax's immunity against unwarranted headbutts.

A guttural scream triggers from Cyrus as blood spills, giving Jax enough time to revert back to his black wolf form and bolt off. He knows that it won't be long before they're both already healed from their regenerative healing abilities.

But for now? Jax wins.

In the distance, he runs off into the snowy wilderness to reunite with the rest of his Grave Shadow comrades once more.