The Hunter's Queen (ICS Book Two) - Wattys2017

Prologue

"His guilt and his grief overwhelmed him. No wolf bonded to his soul, no mother to offer her care. Rage became his only companion, revenge his only future. And so fell Vincent Shaw, the would be Alpha..." - Witness to the fall of Vincent Shaw.

Northern Lithuania, 1498 A.D.

Vincent Shaw clutched the bloodied form of his mother to his chest. Her skin had already grown cold with death, her beautiful face lifeless. His inner wolf whimpered in pain, already missing the connection.

How could he have allowed her to fall? Why didn't he protect her?

Guilt and pain seared through him. Tears stung his eyes but he fought them back, he would never let the bastard before him see such a weakness.

The leader of their pack gazed down at him with pity. Behind his towering form a fire burned through the forest that was once Vincent's home, the blaze reaching high into the heavens. All around lay bodies of what had once been members of their pack, defeated in battle.

A battle Vincent had known they would lose.

"Vincent, let her go," his pack leader ordered softly.

His lips curled back into a snarl. "This is your fault, Michael. You did this."

The remaining members of their pack surrounded them in a circle, the fresh scent of their blood stinging his nose. They stood silently, highlighted by the orange glow, ashes and ambers of burning wood drifting around them like snow.

Michael shook his head, taking a cautious step forward. "Your mother fought valiantly for our pack-"

"Shut up!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with despair. "You knew this was a war we couldn't win! I warned you!" He jumped to his feet with a speed that had Michael sucking in a breath. At sixteen he was still too young to turn, his wolf still not fully bonded with his soul. Even still, he could feel his muscles bulging, surging with power.

"Vincent, don't," Michael warned.

His inner wolf howled, demanding he take revenge. Demanding he take control.

Lead.

In that moment he knew, he was a dominant wolf - and before him was a rival.

The rest of the pack shifted restlessly, sensing the change in him, instinctively knowing that another potential Alpha was before them. There could only be one.

"Don't do this," Michael warned once more. "You're young, Vincent. The bond with your wolf is not yet complete. You cannot win against me."

"Go to hell," he spat, his teeth sharpening in his mouth.

"Listen to me. See reason." Michael held up a hand. "You're in grief."

His heart like stone Vincent let the cold body of his mother fall to the ground. "You lead us like lambs to the slaughter. I'll kill you for this. You are not fit to be Alpha."

Michael let out a low growl in his chest. "You seal your fate, Vincent."

With a roar Vincent attacked, his claws slashing. He was a skilled killer even at his young age, but Michael was older, stronger and a more experienced fighter. The older wolf easily avoided his claws, striking him hard in the stomach and sending him flying backwards.

Vincent let out a grunt, spitting out blood as the punch broke his ribs. He ignored the pain, almost reveled in it. With something close to madness he attacked again and again. Each time Michael countered, slashing at his skin and face. Blood dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision, but he never faltered. The two circled each other, exchanging blows, their roars echoing through the burning woods.

Seeing an opening Vincent moved in to strike, intending to gut the older wolf with one move. Michael dodged, sidestepping with blinding speed. Before Vincent knew what was happening Michael turned in a billow of burning ash, an enormous grey wolf emerging from the smoke. Michael snatched Vincent around his throat with his massive jaws, lifting him clean off the ground. Vincent kicked his feet and snarled, rage and pain burning through him.

"You have challenged me, Vincent," Michael stated, his deep voice cold as steel as it rang within Vincent's mind. "And you have lost."

Bastard! He snapped his fangs as his inner wolf roared. Michael tightened his grip, cutting off his air supply. His blood ran hot down his throat and chest.

"I could kill you now," Michael snarled.

"Then do it, you fucking prick," he snapped back in defiance, his voice hoarse and barely audible with the lack of air.

"You've lost. The shame of it is enough. From this day forward you are exiled from our pack, never to return."

"You bastard!" Vincent clawed at Michael's snout. He would rather die than suffer the shame of exile, and Michael knew it. Slowly he began to feel the connection with his pack fade.

No!

Something snapped inside of him, a numbness sweeping over his body. He would never forget, he would never forgive, and one day he would lead.

"I have spoken," Michael stated coldly. "Never return...my brother."

"Michael!" he managed to shout just as his own brother snapped his neck with his mighty jaws and all went black.