The Alpha's Lifeline

~Chapter one~

** All flashbacks are in italics **

Two beloved parents stood in front of a collapsing building, wooden beams rotting throughout the roof, looking like they could fall with one gush of wind. The cobblestone floor was uneven on their feet as they scrambled through the ruins with their dearest pack members.

"Be careful everyone, Eyes up" Shouted the Alpha's beta, "Let's get in here"

A mother's senses kicked in.

"He's here." Rylan's mother sobbed. His father pulled her into his arms, letting the pack members clear the way for them. They were loyal to their alpha.

"Calm yourself dear, he might not be here, we need to search ... Come on, we'll help them." He took her hand and led her tentatively to the entrance, where their pack warriors were crowded and helped them to open the door. The complex was searched carefully, many close friends were here with them.

They had searched hundreds of buildings like these, and been told hundreds of times that Rylan was nowhere to be found... Until today.

The warriors searched slowly alongside their Alpha and Luna, the deceased were respectfully taken from the building, and prisoners taken to be interrogated. The walls were crumbling and cold, moss growing in every damp corner and rats running from the warriors storming in.

Rubbish on the ground, and the smell of rotting flesh... Not a place for anyone to be living. And yet, the warriors led them on, through the rubble and into another large room, other people were being treated and escorted from the building. Their skin looked white as snow; had they any sunlight in years? Hundreds of scars and wounds flooded their bodies, all weak, scrawny and grasping onto life. They reached another door, and the beta turned around.

"Is he in here?" His mother desperately asked. It had been 16 years.

"This isn't a pretty sight, he's not the same, maybe you should wait to see him-" He suggested but Rylan's mother shook her head.

The door had been broken into by the warrior at the front, six locks on the inside that looked like they had seen better days, all broken and rusting. From the ceiling, one small light bulb swung, dimly lighting the room, to show their son facing the wall, silently.

The gasp from his mother was deathly as she looked at her son's state, two warriors kneeling comfortingly behind him, trying to calm them all down. His back was littered with scars and wounds; Burns, knife cuttings, and patches of broken and damaged skin, everyone noticing the small self-inflicted cuts on the wrist that lay limply on the floor beside him.

He was naked and hung his head low, his hair patchy and shaven.

"Rylan." His mother whispered, his father having no words. "Rylan, is that you?" She asked, sensing that it was, but she wanted that confirmation from him. He was so grown up... But yet so innocent.

He was shaking, unable to move or create sentences, he had not eaten in months, began to cry, unashamed. Everything had happened to him over the last decade of his life had taken a toll on his life, which he had tried many times to end.

He began shouting to himself and thrashing around, using every last ounce of willpower he had in him, as he screamed and pounded on the walls, drawing blood from his weak fists as he punched the wall. He turned to the nearest warrior and began biting at his neck, drawing blood. He was quickly restrained and showed little strength in resisting them. Everyone stared in shock, was he...?

"Is that what I thought it was?" His mother whispered... clasping at her husbands' arm.