A Wolf Among Wolves
Alexander's POV
The scent of blood hung thick in the air.
He'd expected trouble. Fuck, he'd known the Blackwater pack was pushing boundaries, testing him, looking for any opening to challenge his authority. But he hadn't expected this—an all-out assault, right on his territory.
The forest was alive with movement, dark shapes darting through the trees, a symphony of growls and snarls echoing in the night. His pack surged around him, a mass of muscle and fur and lethal intent, clashing head-on with the Blackwater wolves. Claws and fangs met in brutal, bone-crunching strikes, the ground slick with blood as bodies collided, as brothers and enemies tore into each other with savage, unrelenting fury.
It was chaos—pure, violent, beautiful chaos.
And he was right in the fucking middle of it.
Alexander lunged at the nearest Blackwater wolf, his claws ripping through fur and flesh, hot blood spraying across his face as his opponent crumpled under the force of the blow. Another wolf—a huge, hulking brute—charged at him from the side, jaws snapping for his throat. He spun, slashing out with lethal precision, his claws slicing through the wolf's neck in a swift, deadly arc. The beast gurgled, blood bubbling from its throat, and collapsed in a heap at his feet.
But there were more. So many more.
A blur of movement to his left—a flash of white fur—had him twisting just in time to see a pair of wolves tearing into one of his men, their teeth sinking deep into his shoulder, dragging him to the ground. Rage flared hot and sharp, searing through him like fire, and he was moving before the thought even registered, his body a blur of lethal grace as he slammed into the wolves, ripping them apart with a snarl.
"Hold the line!" he roared, his voice a deep, guttural command that reverberated through the night. "Push them back! Don't let a single one through!"
His wolves answered with a feral chorus of snarls, their bodies shifting, muscles bulging, eyes glowing with the unmistakable light of battle lust. They surged forward, a wall of fury and power, driving the Blackwater wolves back inch by bloody inch.
But something was wrong. This... this wasn't just a territorial skirmish. This was too organized, too calculated. The Blackwater wolves were attacking in coordinated waves, drawing his forces out, splitting his line. And that meant—
"Alpha!" a voice shouted, cutting through the chaos.
Alexander's head snapped around, his gaze zeroing in on the scout scrambling toward him, blood streaking his face, his eyes wide with panic. "They've breached the west side. It's a diversion. They're heading for the house!"
The words hit him like a punch to the gut.
Elena.
"Fuck!" The curse tore from his lips, raw and vicious, as he spun on his heel, shoving through the fray, shouts and snarls fading into a dull roar as his mind raced, as he ran. Branches whipped at his face, his boots pounding against the forest floor, heart hammering wildly in his chest.
They were after her. This whole fucking attack—it wasn't about territory or power or pack politics. It was about her. About the one thing he couldn't afford to lose, the one person he couldn't let slip through his fingers.
If they got to her, if they took her...
His wolf howled inside him, a wild, furious sound that shook him to his core. He pushed harder, faster, the trees a blur around him, his senses straining, his entire being focused on one thing: get to her.
A scream tore through the night.
Elena.
He broke through the treeline just in time to see them—two massive wolves, their eyes glowing with malicious intent, their bodies coiled and tense as they closed in on her, their jaws bared, teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Elena stood frozen in the center of the clearing, her eyes wide, her face pale, her body trembling with fear.
And behind them, a third wolf—a rogue, his eyes feral and wild—lunged forward, his claws outstretched, reaching for her.
"NO!"
The roar ripped from his throat, a sound of pure, unbridled fury, as he launched himself forward, his entire being focused on that one rogue, on the threat he had to eliminate.
But he was too late.
The rogue's claws slashed across her arm, a spray of crimson arcing through the air. Elena cried out, stumbling back, her eyes flashing with pain, and the rogue moved in, his jaws snapping, his teeth sinking into her shoulder.
And then—
And then she changed.
One moment, she was a terrified, vulnerable girl. The next, she was a blur of motion, her body twisting, her hand flashing out, something dark and deadly in her gaze as she drove a blade deep into the rogue's side.
There was a wet, sickening crunch—the sound of bone splintering, of flesh tearing—and the rogue's eyes widened, his body convulsing as he staggered, a choked, gurgling sound escaping his throat.
And then he collapsed, blood pooling beneath him, his body twitching once... twice... before going still.
The clearing fell silent.
Alexander stood frozen, his heart pounding, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps, as he stared at her—at Elena, covered in blood, her chest heaving, her eyes wide and wild and alive.
She looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment—just a heartbeat—he thought he saw something... else in her eyes. Something dark. Something dangerous.
And then it was gone, replaced by shock and confusion and fear, and she was stumbling back, her hand clutching her bleeding shoulder, her expression dazed.
"Alexander?" Her voice was a broken whisper, trembling and small, and something inside him twisted, something fierce and primal and protective.
He moved without thinking, closing the distance between them in two long strides, his hands reaching out, grasping her arms, pulling her close. "Elena," he breathed, his voice a low, desperate growl. "What the fuck were you thinking? You could have been killed—"
"I—he—" She shook her head, her eyes darting to the rogue's lifeless body, her face pale, her whole body trembling. "I didn't... I don't know what happened—"
"It doesn't matter," he snarled, his grip tightening, his heart still racing, his mind a chaotic mess of fear and rage and something he couldn't even name. "You're safe now. That's all that matters."
But she wasn't safe. None of them were.
Because if the Blackwater pack had gone this far—if they'd been willing to risk an all-out war just to get to her...
Then they weren't going to stop.
Not until they had her.
Or until he put every last one of them in the fucking ground.