Alpha Micah Black: Werewolf Detective (Complete)

Sweat. Sweat is perspiring over my body, causing my dark fur to feel slick. Burn. Every muscle in my body burns like hell. Pound. The pounding of my paws on the forest floor propels me further. Blur. The trees blur in my vision at my speed. Run. I must run faster. Night. The night is fully upon me. The moon. Where’s the moon? Why am I being tormented by her as well? No time for that. Run. I must keep running. Running to where? I do not know. I know I must keep running if I want to live. I must outrun my opponent in this sick, twisted game. BANG! Out of nowhere, I hear the firing of a gun. s**t! Zing. The bullet rips through the air, aimed in my direction. Pain. A sharp pain rips through my flesh. Blood. My blood slowly spills, mingling and matting on my dark fur wherever it lands. Stumble. I stumble in shock. Stop. My body stops right before I can fall off a cliff. Labor. I breathe heavily, struggling to take each breath... Struggle. Staying conscious is now a struggle. So, this is it. Is this how I die? Laughter. I hear my opponent in the distance, manically laughing at my helpless state. Brazen. My opponent brazenly sashays toward me, cradling their firearm in the crook of their arm. Sick bastard, still wearing the same damn outfit. A pair of old-fashioned hunting boots (think Puss-in-boots), a high-collared long leather duster with their sinister family crest—wolfsbane—embossed on the back. And then there’s the damn hat. Again, think Puss-in-boots. It is a large, wide-brimmed leather hat with a stupid feather sticking out from the band. What’s my issue with the hat? Just the annoying fact that it always hides my opponent’s face. Revealing. The moon slowly reveals itself from behind the clouds. Light. Her light casts an eerie shadow onto my opponent. Lifting. My opponent slowly started to raise their firearm and chin... BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. “Ugh!”, I gasped. I was startled awake by my alarm dripping in a cold sweat. “Another damn dream,” I muttered to myself. If I’m being honest here, it is actually more like a nightmare. The same dream, different night. It’s been this way for the past several months. Okay, so more like on and off for the past two freaking years. However, the dreams, or more accurately, the nightmares, haven’t been nearly as frequent as they have been as of late. I’m so tired of this already. When will these end? And will I ever find out the identity of my opponent? These damnable dreams, nightmares, or whatever you want to call them, didn’t start until I mysteriously began receiving strange packages. Courtesy of some crazy psychotic “admirer”. Please note the sarcasm. Inside each package, I keep finding a business card with a picture of wolfsbane on it. The same freaking one that shows up in every disturbing dream. Sick, right? I guess some clarity on who or what I am would help you out, correct?” The name is Micah Black. Yeah, I’m a Werewolf, in case you haven’t guessed. But no one knows this secret about me. “Or so I thought”, I scoffed. I currently reside in Wolfdale City, a human domain. I’m a detective in their Police Department. I work in whichever division that I am needed in, be it buncoobbery, juvenile, narcotics, or homicide. Sadly, all departments have been overlapping each other. Currently, they have assigned me to the homicide division. I have to admit that being a Werewolf certainly has its advantages when it comes to the job. Wink, wink. I’m currently a sergeant in the department. It kind of stinks when you are born with alpha genes. Does this cause problems? Yep. At least once a week, Police Chief Fenton Edwards, the division Captain Carlton Winston, and I go rounds. But I truly wouldn’t want to serve under any other humans. The men know how to handle their jobs well. I sure as hell don’t want that kind of stress. “Okay, so enough daydreaming. Time to get my lazy ass out of bed. There are perpetrators out there that need to be brought in, and they aren’t going to do it themselves. This is the fun part of my job, right? What wolf doesn’t enjoy a good chase after all? Mentally preparing myself here.” I fling my achy legs over the side of my bed, noting that I’m not so young anymore. The past twelve years have caught up with me. Thirty-six years of life is too young to be acting this old already. But sadly, this is all part of the job. Slowly, I grumbled my way into the hallway, heading towards the bathroom. Entering the room, I get a good look at myself in the mirror. I shake my head while I rub the sleep from my eyes. I do not look so great. My dark brown wavy hair is in bad need of a haircut. Definitely longer than the dress code regulation, but it’s still short enough to be somewhat manageable. “Damn, is that a gray hair?” My dark blue eyes have been sporting attractive dark circles and bags under them. I used to be in much better shape. Some would have had me compared to a Greek god. Whatever. Although I can still outperform my co-workers when it comes time for the evaluations and physicals. I decided not to shave today. Batting a thousand here. Having had the shower turned on already, I disrobed and stepped inside. Those damn dreams still have me on edge. “I seriously need to focus here”, I say while pounding my fist into the wall. Already I can tell today is not going to be a good day. “Yay, freaking me,” I groaned internally. Getting ready for work lately has been a chore. Every single task is hard. I wash and rinse myself. I grab the closest towel to wrap around me and head back towards my bedroom. After drying myself off, I go to my dresser to grab my undergarments and then to my closet to grab my work clothes—a gray suit with a white dress shirt. I’m supposed to wear a tie as well. But just like with shaving, it’s not happening today. “No time for breakfast. I’ll grab something from the break room.” I scrambled down the stairs towards the front door. “s**t! I forgot my shoes.” I ran back upstairs to my room. While grabbing my shoes out of the closet, I knocked over miscellaneous boxes and tossed clothing. “I’ll clean it up later,” I lied. Dashing back downstairs and towards the front door, I quickly picked up my car keys from its designated hook. I managed to get out the front door, lock it, and go to my vehicle in record time. Not really. My vehicle is a dark gray metallic 2008 Nissan Rogue. Almost comical. My car and my house both look and act a bit like me. They need a lot of T. L. C. But unfortunately, my job doesn’t give me the opportunity for such leisure. I am married to my job, after all. I get in my vehicle and stick the key in the ignition. After a few tries, my Rogue roars to life. I slowly but quickly, c’mon, you know what I mean, back out of the driveway and onto the street. Have I mentioned that I hate mornings? The Rogue doesn’t seem to like mornings either. Not even three blocks to the downtown area, the Rogue hits a huge pothole, blows out a tire, and bends a rim. “f**k!” As if I’m not already late enough, I quickly dial the number for Sammy’s Garage. As I impatiently wait for the tow truck, one of our police cruisers pulls up beside me. “Need a lift to work again, Black?” snickered Roger Oren, a patrol officer. He’s a pain in the ass. And somehow he has managed to have a girlfriend. “That obvious?” I sneered back. I have no time for his childish snide remarks. “Tow coming, or do we need to call one?” Roger questioned carefully. He knows better than to get on my bad side. “Yeah, one’s on its way,” I answered. “Just get me to the damn building already,” I grumbled as I squeezed myself into the back seat of the cruiser. Yeah, it's not so easy for someone towering over six feet and four inches. I guess I lost an inch somewhere. The ride to the Police building was truly dull. Okay, so it was more agonizing than anything. Have you ever had to listen to non-stop bragging about a relationship that you really don’t care to know any details about? That’s what the ride was. Roger just went on and on about him and “Tiffany”. Whoever she is? It was pure hell. How Roger’s partner, George Harper, is able to put up with him, I’ll never know.