IGNITING ICARUS

CHAPTER ONE

Trigger Warning:

The following story contains strong language.

Reader discretion is advised.

In the sweltering heat, Alpha Superior continued to dig the trench for a well that would be placed later that day. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he swiped it away with the back of his hand. He wasn't physically exhausted; digging was an easy task for him. But the heat was a fierce adversary. Hitting something hard, he threw the shovel down, clawing the large rock from its foundation in the dirt.

Above him on higher land was his Beta working, laying the foundation for the house they were building for an elder. Why that pack elder wanted to live in the Dominican Republic he didn't know. It was hot, uncomfortably so for lycanthropes as they were naturally warm, having evolved from the frigid climate of Romania. But his wolves could finally move and live wherever they pleased.

The idea that they were forever territorially bound to their place of birth was becoming obsolete. Traveling between cities was easier and quicker, allowing pack mates to go from one country to another without much difficulty. Their collective identity was still very much ingrained in their DNA, which was why when Superior received the call that elders wanted to build a home in Azua but were not strong enough to do so, he sent a platoon of wolves to help. He, his self-chosen brother, and a few other strong wolves worked hard for their elders.

He didn't want to be there with mud caked onto his jeans and sweat dripping from his brow, but he would do anything for his pack. Wolves helped wolves, always. Still, he'd rather be in his grandiose home in Romania, where many pack members lived and congregated.

They were close to humans; he could tell, as he could hear schoolchildren playing soccer in the nearby dirt plain.

His confusion deepened as to why elders would want to live there. Humans were foreign to them. They weren't a part of their collective identity and thus didn't share a mind link with them. Humans were dangerous even though they were physically weaker.

The species that let their own starve in the streets and die in the cold, knowingly and willingly, made him uncomfortable. It meant they truly did not care and would do anything to maintain their materialistic lifestyles.

He shouldn't judge humans. Perhaps he was being a hypocrite. It was no secret that he lived a lavish lifestyle. Having a grand home, nice cars, fashionable suits, and so on, he definitely wasn't a minimalist. But there was once a time when he had to beg for food and sleep on hard floors. He convinced himself he was different. Yes, he liked his fancy accessories, but he would never trade the security of another wolf for a car or wealth.

Humans would, and that unsettled him.

Ironically, most saw him as a callous, cold-hearted lycanthrope. Even his own people viewed him as a strong yet austere individual. He liked that. He wanted that because no one would tread on his territory or position. And that meant his pack was safe. It meant he fulfilled his duty. Many pack mates envied positions of power, but that power came with great turmoil.

Beta Superior nor Alpha Superior had blood relatives. They were erased—murdered, removed. Their pack was their family. The Beta and Alpha, despite not being of blood relation themselves, they grew up together fighting for their lives and honoring their species. Champions of Lycanthropes was what they called the adopted brothers.

Alpha Superior scoffed as he pressed his foot into the edge of the shovel, pushing it deeper into the ground. The shit he'd gone through wasn't something he'd wish on most.

"Thank you, Ana."

Ana was a female with graying hair and fair wrinkles on her caramel skin. She lived there with a few others.