The Exiled Alpha | ✓

30 | Ruby Red Eyes

A snarl rips from my throat as I thrash wildly, trying to throw my attacker off. The movements are so familiar that it feels like a flashback I can't snap out of.

A thick arm slides around my neck like a noose. A hand grabs my snout, attempting with great effort to twist my head sideways. After all, a broken neck would be quicker than strangulation.

I come to a sudden stop and flip over on the cobblestone like I'm trying to put out a fire. The air is crushed out of the monkey on my back, causing their hold to break just long enough for me to slip out. I don't take my opportunity for granted, making quick work of pinning the attacker down.

I find myself staring into the eyes of Romanov, their icy irises paradoxically burning with rage. My paw finds its place against his neck, the tips of my claws just barely entering his skin. I curl my lips back in a snarl.

I had expected to see some form of fear cross his face. A bit of uncertainty at the least. But his air of arrogance and anger doesn't falter.

"Shift back," he demands, though demands aren't usually made by the one on the ground.

Or what? I want to ask him. But he saves me the trouble because it's like he reads my mind. Something pokes my underbelly, a sharp, fine point. A needle.

"Unless you want another dose of Senya's silverbane." There's the threat I had been anticipating. The reason why he let himself get pinned so quickly. He has a secret weapon he knows I won't oppose.

A vile memory pops into my head. How badly it hurt when Senya drenched me in it. The sheer pain and acid-like burning as the liquid ate straight through my flesh and down to the bone, along with the nauseating feeling that followed. I don't want another taste of that, whatever the hell it is.

With a baleful glare, I slowly step off of him. The more I encounter of this bastard, the more I hate him. I loathe every single particle of air that has ever kept him alive.

"Now shift," he barks. He's to his feet now, wielding a syringe full of a metallic, silver substance. His thumb is poised on the plunger, ready to make good on his threat.

I trade my pride for logic and do as he says. My bones crack and realign. Sinewy fibers stretch and pull back together in new positions. Seconds later and I'm standing with humility heating my face. I fight the urge to cover the burn scars, covering my private parts instead.

I open my mouth, a slew of curses right at the top of my tongue. Somewhere nearby, a horrifying scream rings out, jolting me. Except this time it's not only screams. A monstrous roar echoes, so powerful that the very core of the city shakes.

It's close. Painfully, terrifyingly close. It's like an electric pulse shoots through my brain. My senses are dulled yet very much alive. Pounding footfalls approaching behind me, charging rapidly. At the last minute, intuition controls my body.

With a rolling leap to the side, I make it out of the way just in time. Seconds later comes the thick impact of flesh meeting flesh.

I snap my head over to look. A giant wolf is standing over Romanov's body, plowed into the concrete by the impact. Its dark fur is spiky and wet from the rain, the hairs bristled to a point on its back.

Riot.

I watch, speechless, at what unfolds a few meters away from me. Riot's canines sink into Romanov's shoulder right before he's turned into a life-sized rag doll. My eyes are widen like saucers as I observe.

Romanov is flung across the plaza as if he were weightless. Threads scream as his shirt is clamped in Riot's jaws, fabric tearing as its wear is sent slamming into the ground.