Dana's announcement brought the Alpha's attention to the shabby band of rescued wolves. He leaped down from his perch and approached them stoically. His hands were clasped behind his back, pressing his shirt enough to see his pectoral muscles ripple.
The closer he came, the lower Lyra angled her head. She couldn't risk it. Not until she was one hundred percent sure it was safe. Ruben noticed her change and released her hand then slid his arm around her shoulders and a protective and reassuring side hug. Lyra turned into him, nesting her head in the crook of his shoulder.
"I'm Alpha Cedric Basel of the Gibbous Peak pack. Even if our goal was to take down the Sanctified Guardian Society's base and rescue my Gamma's mate, I will not abandon you. I will provide you transport to return you to your home or if you do not have one, I will give you the opportunity to join Gibbous Peak."
If it weren't for the ingrained fear, Lyra would have swooned at his confident introduction and casual benevolence. Releasing them from their captures was more than enough to be branded a hero. He could have left them as they were, standing half naked in the freezing remains of the enemy camp, without so much as tarnishing that title. To werewolves, their pack is more precious than their own lives. Outsiders will always be treated suspiciously. The fact that this Alpha mentioned joining his pack was a clear demonstration of his pack's strength as well as the sovereignty of his leadership.
"I have no pack." Garrett responded meekly.
Looks like he had chosen to remain clothed, but his grip on the tattered shirt was also unchanged. His stance was as awkward as to be expected of a traumatized teenager. Yet no one could deny the courage he had in order to speak up in this kind of situation. To such a dominating man, no less.
He added, "My parents are rogues."
{I didn't realize he was such a stupid pup.}
Lyra rolled her eyes.
It's common knowledge that packs look unfavorably toward rogues to the point of prejudice and violence. By definition, a rogue was simply a pack-less werewolf. But by reputation, the label held more disgrace. Some rogues were originally pack members that were banished as punishment for their crimes. However, others fled poor conditions within ranks or dangerous wars between feudal packs, some simply wished to relocate their families. The truth was that an unknown amount of rogue werewolves lived peacefully among humans or remotely, living off the land. Yet most packs never encountered those rogues and had much more experience with the violent or feral wolves that caused destruction to the pack or risked exposure to the humans.
"Oh, I mean... they were rogues. The… they…" he glanced back toward the smoke ridden building, "They k-killed… everyone."
Garrett's head hung low and he looked at his bare feet with tears in his eyes.
"Do you have any other family?" Alpha Cedric asked calmly, completely passing over the fact that the boy admitted to being a rogue. Whether he did not see it as a threat or he held pure intentions to return the pitiful wolf to his family was unclear.
"Ah… well, yes. I have an uncle. He, um, he doesn't have a pack either."
Garrett's eyes darted around and his voice became smaller. He must have caught onto the hostility instigated by the mention of rogues. He continued, "He lives among humans. He's a veterinarian."
"We should find this uncle then."
Garrett's posture relaxed slightly. Alpha Cedric's expression softened and he said softly, "A wolf pretending to be human just to care for other beasts."
He then chuckled at the irony of his own words.
That is the sound of bliss. Lycra's wolf cooed, but quickly snapped out of her trance as they confirmed their fear without a shadow of a doubt.
This was, indeed, the Cedric who wanted her dead. Not just wanted, he already attempted, and believed himself successful in killing her all those years ago.
⥈
"You good?" Ruben lightly bumped his shoulder against Lyra's.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye before returning her gaze to her folded hands. The vibration of the vehicle was preventing her from keeping still, yet it provided a consistency that was oddly soothing. To her left, another werewolf sat, his chin resting on his bare chest and his arms crossed across his stomach. He was taking a nap, his slow, rhythmic breathing added consistency to the hum of the engine. He was wearing shorts, just like the men in the front seats. Although awake, those two had been completely silent during the drive. Compared to the deafening silence during captivity, this was a welcoming transition for Ruben and Lyra. They had been given gym shorts and plain tshirts, a woolen blanket covering their tattered legs. Normally, wolves were impervious to the cold, but these two were not in healthy condition, by anyone's standard. Combined with the soft leather seats and newfound safety, this was the most luxury they'd enjoyed in years.
"Hm." Lyra responded vaguely.
She could feel his concern, but her overwhelming anxiety was difficult to suppress at the moment. Luckily, her trembling wasn't very suspicious due to the horrific place she was just removed from. She would have to be more composed in the future if she didn't want to draw attention to herself. What were the chances? She couldn't help but laugh at the pathetic situation. She had lived most of her life successfully and effortlessly avoiding one person. And just who was the one to save her from a slow death by hunters? Yes, that very person who wanted her dead in the first place.
She had no family to return to, so there was no place she could ask to be taken to under that premise. She wasn't sure if there was any kind of follow up. Opting to be a rogue straight in the benevolent face was an insult and could result in her death for another reason. Alphas weren't particularly known for their kindness, there wasn't any reason to test her luck. Ruben was in the same situation, minus the connection to the Alpha.