Alpha Alaric
The drive back to the Wildfire Pack territory was a blur of grinding frustration. Obsidion wolves. I couldn't believe those damned North American mutts had interfered. That little wench, Amethyst, was supposed to be under my control, a key asset in my long-term strategy. Her escape was not merely an inconvenience; it was a devastating breach.
When I pulled up to the main pack house, the sight of the compound confirmed my mounting rage. The perimeter guards were sluggish, the pack grounds looked messy, and the air crackled with a distinct, unsettling tension. As I stepped out of the car, pack members paused their minimal tasks and stared. Their faces were etched with a blend of fatigue, resentment, and what looked suspiciously like pissed-off defiance. They didn't even attemp
