The Final Alpha

Aria’s POV It wasn’t uncommon for The Legion to become riled on Friday nights. The reason behind the game sprawled in aromatic spice for a feast and the harmony of boisterous laughter came from another successful hunt. Only this time, their sense of pride didn’t come from a woodland mammal without a chance to escape our customs of crossbows and skilled fingers. Instead, it came in the form of a large figure beaten beyond a chance of recognition. My eyes fixated on a flogged spread of tanned skin over thick bones that made up a rather intimidating height, even when cowardly into the bow that he was right now. Coal bangs hung heavy over closed eyes that left the color an enigma, much like the man thrown to my father’s feet. But from my momentary study came the understanding that he was wounded and complacent, despite the fact he was estimated to be able to overpower our entire camp if he wished it. It should have been a contradiction considering the crimson staining his bruised hands and cheeks that I’d wager were from him being victor in place of the victim he was now. Still, he was a helpless totem among a league of vultures, hungrily circling to pick him apart one-by one. But as others chanted for his end to be a m******e of his waning tolerance, I stared forward for any hint to why his existence was subject for death. Suddenly, his eyes lifted to mine. The coolest gray of slate and heaven’s stars stared back at me, dull from what he’d endured, yet hopeful for the spark of humanity looking back at him. It was only a minute’s mercy, however, before he was dragged to stand with a blade to his back. My father’s blade. My father’s orders became muffled as I fixed on the large figure towering over those in attendance. Still, the mammoth of torn skin and reserved confidence appeared to stand no taller than his own knees. But among his uncertainty came a focus that never left mine. And unfortunately for him, it didn’t go unnoticed. A command to face forward meant another strike to his honey-hued skin that became a canvas of his wounds. But I was struck with the cold absence of such unique eyes that no longer favored my attention. “Mutt,” my father began with a heavy boot climbing down from his dais. A construction of oak and nails constructed a throne of sorts to nurture my father’s narcissism. A king to every right but legality and his subjects always bowed so blindly. I was among them as blood meant a loyalty that reminded the use of a heart was a luxury. I was meant to follow behind as a harbinger of death to the lycans beneath my family. And yet, for the first time since I was a child, I couldn’t bring myself to look at the prey in his eyes. Not when they held such innocent pain and a heat of a formerly stoked anger cooled to rest. No matter the stories of how they may have torn my ancestors to shreds, this was not the man responsible as I found it difficult to understand how he could be a monster at all. He was a wounded victim bowing before a man he could kill with a swipe of a formed paw. Still, he only stared. And in that, was power enough to chill me through my skin and down to my bones. “We thought we got the last of you,” my father continued as the man didn’t react beyond anything more than an exhale and it was enough to warrant a response as if he’d cursed his captor to hell. The wrath of those behind this cause to eradicate the supernatural strength of those cursed by the moon came with the bloodshed of those making up my bloodline. My father’s specific motivations came from my brother’s death that acted as a catalyst for his ambition. He was already hungry against those supercharged by the moon. But when coming home with the memories of watching his first born end at the hand of such a beast entombed in his mind, he became a bloodthirsty tyrant himself. “Aria,” my name echoed in the space as my advisor called me away. A middle aged woman with enough poise and wisdom to understand the truth of pain behind a madman’s ambition fell into our daily routine. A series of studies strengthening the secrets of what we called “The Legion”, adorned in the same black of night we hunted, built an empire to keep those of our same species safe. But as I looked over my shoulder before disappearing into the furthest cabin making up or camp, I couldn’t help but wonder if the true monster was the one condemning a man to death without a trial and not the one on his knees simply awaiting his execution. “You aren’t focused.” Her faded British accent breathed with exasperation as I steadied my feet. Taught to do so with enough distance to enact any engrained combination of fighting stances, I slipped off kilter once again at the sound of the cheering crowd. The last time such excitement came was nearly a year ago when we celebrated what we believed to be the death of the final werewolf. The hollering and commands for brutality came as a reminder of the tension simmering until now. “Why are they torturing him?” “IT.” She corrected me with disgust framed with a snarling upper lip. A series of unspoken rules came in being a part of The Legion. Among the highest was to understand that those wielding fur for skin when called by the moon were anything but humane. They were monsters and were to be treated and ultimately killed as such. So much as a conversation was grounds for expulsion, which was a kind word for execution. “IT isn’t fighting back…” I explained while pulling a towel across my neck as my wooden sparing partner was pulled off of the mat and set idle out of the perimeter of this makeshift gym. Allowing Roquelle a chance to explain by taking a swallow of my water she offered as an olive branch of sorts, it was taken from my grasp all the same. “If you know what’s good for you, Aria, you will do what’s expected of you. You’re already pushing too many buttons returning to society daily. The fact you haven’t sealed your destiny is…frustrating to us.” I clenched my teeth as I turned to pull my windbreaker over my arms. The details of my supposed destiny were more suffocating than the sauna I turned to face with the understanding that I would only get answers from my own investigations. Something in my abrupt leave sent her hand back to my wrist. “You’re running out of time and excuses. One way or another, you belong to The Legion. By blood. It’s up to you if it’s spilled or strengthened by it.” I was released with this ominous threat and stepped in quick succession away from the woman my father trusted to train me. More as an ‘elder’ among the youth that would be able to allow me agility and stamina in a physical partner, nobody was trusted to keep from ceasing the line I carried in my veins. My death meant new status. And in a world where blood was currency, my death was sought out over a promise I was trying to find anyway around to keep from having to commit to. It wasn’t until midnight that I saw him again. Only this time, he was on display to be ridiculed. A quick death, as I expected, was not the fate for what my father called a mutt. But I saw him now beneath the slivers of moonlight that he was entirely a man. Healing by the unnatural properties unfairly deprived of humans. And it was enough to send those who passed at all hours to riot in envy. I noticed it as I moved from the showers and into my designated cabin for the night as the sound of clinking rocks against metal and grunts drew my attention to him. Again, those eyes narrowed just as mine had to him until I collided with a stiff chest. Donovan. “You shouldn’t be out, Aria. We don’t know if he is the only one left of his back. Until we get him talking, he’s subject to our…methods.” He smirked with pride. I watched as another group of Donovan’s friends approached the cage, those I once called friends of my own, closing in on him with cruel remarks that I wondered if he understood as he only continued to stare me down. “You should be resting. You only have a few more months before your commitment.” His words were heavy and laced twice over. I managed to convince my father to let me attend college in the lie to help with the superficial business he used to keep our true tasks under the radar, when in actuality I was stalling. For what? I still couldn’t answer. But it was enough to convince him to let me. However, six months from now I was due to stand and pledge my fate to The Legion. This also meant a union to Donovan as a hand in a ceremonial promise to be bound as man and wife. His attempt to tuck a hair behind my ear was evaded by a twist of my head as I looked to the figure with eyes now harboring a darker gray. Almost like that of a coming storm rolling over the ridges of rushing waves to shore. He was too far to make up the details, but close enough to understand his clenched jaw and gaze turned to slits in focus. “If you consider taking me up on a night’s watch, you would warm up to the idea of me touching you, Aria.” he leaned forward with his lips just brushing my cheek. A heat that came from frustration caused a blush that should be reserved for someone else. Someone who I couldn’t seem to keep my mind or hazel eyes from falling to even over Donovan’s shoulder. “You might even ask for more.” He stepped forward as I mirrored his advance in reverse. The idea of the mutt’s eyes on me suddenly weighed me down with shame. Not because I considered Donovan in any capacity aside from a motivation to my practice dummies, but the rivaling pair of eyes gave me a reason not to. “Goodnight, Donovan.” “Soon, we won’t have to say it.” He slinked a gander down my body, feeling heavy with the disgust of his interest in me as my slightly exposed chest was corrected by my hands pulling myself into an even tighter embrace. Even the man imprisoned over my shoulder didn’t look at me like the meal Donovan made of me, and he still had blood drying on his hands, and from what I’d wager, even in his teeth. Finally at rest beneath a sheet to counter the chill of the South Carolina night invading my room and biting at my exposed skin, exhaustion found me faster than most nights. I made a promise to meet my friend Brooke in the cafe on campus across town before class before slipping my phone onto the charger and reading over my last study guide for the upcoming test in psychology tomorrow, falling asleep somewhere between the middle paragraph and the citations. Without the chance to dream of an alternate reality away from the weight of my fate, I awoke to a shift of my floorboards setting me on edge. Before my eyes could adjust to the identity of the silhouette taking up the entire width of my door frame, I was pulled flat with a weight unmatched keeping me pinned. “I couldn’t wait another six months to make you mine…” The heat of his breath was painful to my skin as I shifted away, but my body was anything but cooperative. The usual strength of my arms became useless in my attempts as my only hope was that of my voice. As my lips parted to screech, knowing there were ten other cabins in earshot that would come and find him accelerating the agreement in my clear protest, he wrapped a hand over my mouth. “Your father was worried you’d get the attention of someone at your precious little college and I wouldn’t want you if you didn’t save yourself…It is part of the deal, sweet Aria,” his fingers were like a cruel brand to my skin, peeling away my clothing until revealing the rim of my underwear. “I’ve waited twenty years to take what’s mine. I’m not waiting another second.” I was suffocated by his weight. Two-hundred-and something pounds of muscle weighing me down well into my sheets, leaving my only chance coming from his mercy or someone happening upon us. But with a lack of allies aside from those closest to my father to keep me alive, I was subject to endure whatever he’d done to me that kept me from fighting back. Because if it were a level field, he’d have a broken hand, dislocated shoulder, and his nose halfway into his brain by now. And that would only be by the element of surprise. His fingers brushed over my navel and a single shift of my body was corrected by him straddling my waist. Removing his shirt from either hip, he left his smooth torso in view. Every ridge I’d heard the other girls my age discuss in lustful description became a detail of my nightmare. Where they discussed clawing in passion, I wished to do so with hatred. When given the chance, I would. “We’re going to be so good together, Aria. We just have to get the first time out of the way and then you’ll love how I can make you feel.” I was taken into an abyss of defeat. Large hands wrapped me in place as I was drowning in fatigue with the knowledge that I was losing a part of myself I didn’t give willingly. I was able to feel every inhale and exhale, lustful vision narrated by his huffs, and the sound of fabric felt against my body as he made himself flush with my skin. But as I expected the jolt of pain to tear my innocence apart, it never came. Only the heat of his body remained until suddenly even that was gone. And along with that peace came my eyes into a close and the sound of heavy breathing that didn’t come from the man who’d taunted me with it for the last however long I was imprisoned beneath him. Instead, only a set of gray eyes hovering over me in my last moments of consciousness became a silent promise of protection.