Her Savior Alpha

From the cover of trees, out of sight as I caught my breath, I watched as Grant stood before the hulking figure of Sigmund pitch black wolf, different from Dane’s - he was sleek with close-cropped fur and looked like a large panther. His eyes shone like the gleam of iron.

“You will pay for what you did to my parents,” Grant hissed, throwing her beige leather jacket off. Then, she shifted, jumping into a bright rusty red wolf, not missing a beat as she ran at Sigmund like a blazing fire. Her large brown eyes were narrowed into angry, seething glare, mouth wide open to take Sigmund’s head off. Sigmund swiped with a huge clawed paw, slashing across Grant’s front, letting blood fly from the long thin cuts.

She mewling, skidding back, yet refused to back down. Head-first, she rampaged towards Sigmund like a furious bowling ball.

Sigmund’s men and wolves were keenly aware of their leader’s fight, and upon seeing the Mount Hunter Alpha getting the upper hand, several of the closest went to his aid.

Oh, no you don’t! I exclaimed, jumping in to block them. Despite their dark, threatening appearances, the Beartown Pack’s wolves were hardly a threat for my Lycan wolf, even while exhausted. The little bit of rest I’d gotten did me good, and whirled around, kicking and crunching bone beneath my teeth.

While the Beartown soldiers surrounding me were down, I quickly glanced over to see how Grant was doing.

The flame-like wolf and the sharp black wolf both stood on their haunches, trying to wrestle the other down with their front paws. Sigmund managed to push Grant down, but seemed to need a millisecond of rest. I noticed a gash down his side with thick blood running down. Score for Grant!

The millisecond was all Grant needed to run from his grasp, rolling to the side. Then she leapt up, fangs catching on a low hanging branch. It cracked away from the trunk as she landed, skidding in the dirt. Without hesitation, the red fireball of a wolf swirled around, the long branch rotating like a fan. Sigmund couldn’t dodge by the time he realized what was happening, the branch had already crashed into him, whacking his body back. I stared in awe; despite Sigmund’s size, Grant’s momentum still managed to knock him to the ground.

Launching herself at him, they rolled to several times. Grant’s maws closed in around the side of his neck, digging deep. He smacked her off in a heartbeat. I could see blood leaking down his front. He took a step forward, but then it shook and he collapsed to the side.

Seemingly fatigued, Sigmund’s large midnight wolf shifted back, his human body appearing, knees on the ground.

I felt a presence about to grab my tail, and turned as I fought another one of Sigmund’s wolves, throwing him from me.

“Vera!” An urgent and concerned voice called out, its familiarity making my insides tingle with want. I whipped around to find Archer running in, Clive and Thelma on his trail. All looked worse for wear, in ripped clothes and shallow cuts from the heat of battle. Glancing away quickly, I body slammed into an incoming wolf. When I sensed no other perpetrators, I took a moment to transform back.

“Archer!” I yelled breathlessly. In response, Archer threw something my way. A leather satchel, I realized, reaching for it. Inside was my set of knives. I grinned, slinging the bag across my chest and taking out two. I was too constrained in my wolf form anyway - I was ready for some more precise fighting.

It was excellent timing too because right then, one of Sigmund’s still-human solders ran at me, fist ready to pummel me. I whirled around, slashing at him with both knives when he got in close range. With a pained cry, he stumbled from my hit, blood leaking down the cuts on his abdomen.

Archer reached my side.

“You good?” he asked, voice rumbling in his chest as he scanned his eyes over me for any injuries (and for another reason, I was sure). I was grateful he came now rather than earlier when I had been a complete mess.

I faced him, smiling, then threw my arms around him. His gripped my waist tightly, even as he said, “Whoa, not the right time, but hot nonetheless. Oh, watch out -” He bent me back on his right arm, dipping me as though we were dancing the salsa. He picked up his leg and shot a powerful kick out, the force off kicking a wolf several feet away where it landed in a whimpering heap.

Something caught Archer’s eye. I looked in his same direction, realizing he’d noticed Grant and Sigmund fighting. Not Sigmund, his father. I assessed Archer’s expression but it remained unreadable.

Unfortunately, upon looking up, Sigmund immediately bellowed, “You shit excuse for a son!” He’d zeroed in on his son instantly, his silver eyes flashing. However, in his distraction, Grant zoomed into him, slamming him into the ground, creating a crater in the dirt and fallen leaves. The fact that he had lost his wolf form meant he was weak.

The dark magic he used to control the animals took up too much of his strength, my Lycan explained. He relied too much upon them and now that they are gone, he is left with neither strength nor manpower.

That made sense why a younger, fresh werewolf that otherwise might have had no chance against Sigmund was able to kick his butt. Sure enough, Grant had landed squared on the Beartown Alpha’s chest, pinning him down. In a flash, she shifted back to human, holding him down with his knees in his abdomen, other leg pining his leg down. His arm pressed against Sigmund larynx, choking him.

“You’re the piece of shit,” Grant shrieked in his face. “I will destroy you for what you did to Mount Hunters, for what you did to my parents!”

“Are you...sure you want to do that, darling?” Sigmund said, his long black hair loose and spilling across the ground. “I could give you unlimited power.”

“The only power I’ll get will be from killing you,” she hissed with finality. Then she drove her elbow straight into his throat, causing blood to leak out of his mouth from previous internal injuries. The formerly severe, terrifying alpha of Beartown was now a shuddering, sputtering mess on the ground, clawing at Grant’s hard grip - I was sure she had never put so much of her strength into anything before in her life.

Archer and I kept a close eyes on the scene from where we faced off anyone who was trying to apprehend Grant from her attack on their alpha.

We could all palpably see the moment when Sigmund soul left his body, when his breathing became wheezing which became silence, which he hands stilled and his body relaxed into stone. He would never move again.

I felt Archer’s physical reaction to his father’s death. His back had been stuck to mine as we’d moved in unison, fending off enemies, and at Sigmund’s final moment, his back tense and his breath caught in his throat. I touched his shoulder, trying to reach him but he turned away.

Getting up, Grant wiped the blood off her face, chest heaving and he expression still like that of a vengeful goddess. She looked around, aiming her words for the remaining Beartown men who had paused to watch their leader die with horror. She announced, “Alright, whoever wants to keep fighting, let’s hurry it up. If not, tell the rest of your men that Beartown’s alpha is down. Let’s clean this up!”

***

A few days later, I found myself standing in a large field of headstones, in a nearby clearing within Mount Hunter borders.

Grant and I stood before several headstones. I hugged my elbows, covered in my long-sleeve black dress. It wasn’t cold but it was cloudy, matching the dreary aura that sat upon us. The memorial had long ended, so most of the pack had gone home, except for a few who wanted some time alone with their dead loved ones.

We were one of them.

Grant sighed, “Sending teams out to dig up the remains of those who died in that battle five years ago was one of my better ideas.”

I hummed in agreement.

“You know, say all you want about revenge, I don’t care. Watching Sigmund die by my hand was one of the sweetest feelings.” She looked down her her hand, not manicured for once, before continuing, “I actually feel like I am worthy of being Alpha. Like I knew it before, but also I threw it in everyone’s face, trying to make sure no one ever forgot my right to the throne, as if I didn’t truly believe in myself. But now, I do.”

Her hair tilted down, loose red hair curtaining her face. I could tell Grant wanted to let out the tears she’d been holding so I moved away from her and closer to my parents’ graves.

Flowers already lay there, curtesy of Thelma’s father.

“Mother, father,” I mouthed, my words barely a whisper. “I hope you are proud of who I am. And I hope I can exceed your expectations for who you wanted me to be.”

I closed my eyes. Despite the sorrow that would always be there, I felt at peace.

***

The second we got home, Grant took a glass of wine with her to the sitting room. Soon after, she was snoozing, head lolling on her shoulder. Thankfully she had already finished her drink and set the glass on the coffee table.

“Help me take her up to her room?” I asked Archer. He nodded, coming to Grant’s other side and putting her arm around his neck. I did the same and we hoisted her up. She muttered in her sleep, some sort of drunk rambling. We helped her up to her room, a few doors down from mine on the second floor.

Archer stayed a few steps back, allowing me to lift Grant’s covers up.

When we got to my room, I led him over to my bed and pushed him down, dragging my rolling chair in front of him to sit down. He sat frozen and tense, looking up at me questioningly.

“Archer, you don’t have to keep it in,” I said with a sigh, rolling me closer until my knees touched his. He parted his legs to let me in between them.

“What do you mean?” he asked, unease in his gaze. I felt his hands trail down my outer thighs, sending a thrill through me.

“How are you feeling? How have you been doing since...you know?”

His lips turned up into a half-smile. “You mean since watching my father die.”

Mouth in a firm line, I nodded, taking his hand onto my lap and massaging it.

His Adam’s apple bobbed and he let out a sort of dry, choking laugh. “I don’t think I’ve really processed it yet. Or maybe I just don’t know what to feel about it.”

I nodded. “It can’t be an easy thing, I’d imagine.”

He shook his head, hair falling forward to shade his eyes. “It just feels empty. Like I feel like I lost nothing - and that seems feels worse than losing something.”

I didn’t really understand, but I leaned over and wrapped my arms around him, leaning my cheek in the crook of his neck. He continued.

“My father never really felt like a father. He felt like a ruler, my boss, someone who had my life in his hands. All I ever wanted was his recognition or respect. Not even love. That would be too much to ask. I know he’s a manipulative, mass murderer. But he’s also all I ever known. Now that he’s gone, it feels like I’ve lived for nothing. I spent my life under his wing and his domination, doing as he asked hoping for breadcrumbs. His death makes my life that much worthless.” He swallowed, his voice thickening. “And even worse, I feel horrible, as a son who doesn’t even grieve his father.”

Sensing tangible despair in the air, I leaned Archer forward gently. He complied surprisingly, head falling onto my lap, his arm around the side of my hips.

“You’re not worthless,” I insisted, but my voice remained soft. My fingers combed through his hair. “Never believe that. You are worth so much more than what you father made you believe yourself to be. Everything goes through a different grieving process, and what you feel is nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Even if I spent my life working for the pack that killed your parents?”

“You are not your pack,” I said vehemently. That’s the biggest lesson I learned. No matter your birth, home, or allegiance, you don’t represent when you come from.”

“I’m certainly not any pack now,” he chuckled drily. “Honestly, Vera, I don’t think I belong anywhere anymore now. My time here was spent gathering intel rather than finding belonging and connection.”

I smoothed out his forehead, my other hand moving down to rub circles on his collarbone.

“I think I understand you a lot more than you realize,” I murmured.

Archer shifted, turning around, flipping his body onto his knees and moving closer to me. His hair flopped down onto his eyes and I cupped his jaw, his sharp cheekbones, examining the hollows in his cheeks. I ran a hand over his hair, pushing it back, revealing intense silver, barely red-rimmed eyes.

“I think I love you a lot more than you realize,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t think I could have released myself from Sigmund’s grip without you, Vera.”

My heart clenched, his words striking a cord deep within me. “I think you’re underestimating yourself. But I’ll accept your declaration of love anyway.”

I pulled him to me, hugging his neck tightly. His arms snaked around my waist, lifting me from the chair and laying me on my back on the bed. As he squeezed me in his embrace, I didn’t know who was holding who. We’re were so close yet we could have sunk into each other further if we could.

“Even though I know Mount Hunter will become better and stronger, maybe kinder,” I began, “I still don’t feel I belong here anymore. I know we’d decided to run away before to stay away from Beartown’s inevitable attack, that’s all kind of unnecessary now. But if you’re still up for it, I wouldn’t mind leaving. We don’t even have to go find a place or lay low in a pack. We could travel. Find some new city, mix with humans, have new lives.”

“You mean, you’d want to go rogue. “He peered up at me.

“I mean, why not? We don’t have to belong anywhere, we could make the world our home. Roam anywhere. What do you think?”

He stayed silent for a short while before answering. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m with you wherever you go, pack or rogue, wild or city, I’ll be on your heels.”

My eyes watered slightly at his affirmation of devotion. I was glad he couldn’t see me. Laughing, I teased him to lessen the serious mood. “Just like my loyal little puppy.”

He growled playfully. “Vera, don’t push, sweetheart.”