The Alpha’s Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger

Ramsey

I dove to the side as something crashed through the space where I had been standing—a Feral larger than any I had seen before, its red eyes shone at me like a beacon.

The battle had just gotten a lot more complicated. We were outnumbered, outmanoeuvred, and fighting for our lives.

But I had one advantage Nathan would never understand: I wasn't fighting for power or revenge. I was fighting for my pack, for my mate, for a future worth having.

And I wasn't going to die tonight. Not when Lyla still needed me.

I faced the Feral charging toward me, it has extended its claws to tear me apart. Time seemed to slow as my survival instinct took over. For too long, we'd been fighting with restraint, hiding our true nature from the world.

No more.

"Warriors of White Mountain," I roared through the radio, "unleash the beast!"

The command triggered something primal in every Lycan under my leadership. Something we rarely showed outsiders—our true form.

Most werewolves only knew two shapes: human and our Lycans, which were bigger than an average wolf. However, there was something unique about Lycans that many people don't know. We had a third form—the war form. Half-man, half-beast, standing over nine feet tall with the strength of twenty wolves.

My body transformed instantly. My bones cracked and expanded, my muscles doubled in mass, my entire frame growing until I towered over the Feral. My face elongated into a wolfish muzzle, yet I retained my human intelligence. Fur sprouted across my skin, thick and impenetrable.

Around me, my warriors underwent the same transformation.

Nathan's eyes widened in shock. "Impossible," he whispered. "The war form is just a legend."

"Not for true Lycans," I growled, my voice was thicker in this form. "I hope it puts an end to the constant debate about us."

The Feral that had charged at me was now hesitating; it must have sensed the shift in power. I didn't give it time to retreat. With one swipe of my clawed hand, I tore through its chest. It fell, dead before it hit the ground.

"Kill them all," Nathan screamed to his forces. "Aim for their heads! It's the only way to kill a Lycan!"

He was right. In war form, Lycans were nearly invulnerable. Silver burned us, but couldn't kill us. Wolfsbane weakened us, but it wasn't fatal. Only severe brain trauma could end a Lycan in war form.

"Helmets!" I commanded. My warriors pulled specially reinforced helmets from their packs and secured them over their transformed heads. We'd prepared for this possibility, though I'd hoped to keep our secret advantage hidden longer.

Nathan's forces regrouped, focusing their attacks on our protected heads. Bullets ricocheted off metal, raining down on us like rainfall.

Freya's Sigma fighters had transformed into their wolf forms, which made them five times faster and more agile on their feet. They were tearing through the panthers with ruthless efficiency. The big cats were quick, but no match for the strength of a Sigma in its wolf form.

Lenny and his men charged through the eastern side of the camp, in war form, they moved like living tanks, shrugging off attacks that would have killed them in their human form. The mining tunnels had been tight for humans but perfect for Lycans, allowing them to emerge with surprise and overwhelming force.

"Nathan is trying to escape!" Killian roared, pointing toward the southern edge of the camp where Nathan and a small group of his elite guards were retreating.

"Let the others handle the Ferals," I ordered Killian. "You're with me."

We charged through the battlefield, covering ground quickly, and soon we had covered the distance. Nothing stood in our way—any enemy foolish enough to attack was swatted aside like an insect.

Nathan and his guards had reached a line of vehicles parked at the edge of the camp. The engines were already running, and they were boarding rapidly.

"Stop them!" I commanded, running faster.

Killian grabbed a nearby supply truck and hurled it towards the vehicle that was about to pull out. The vehicle tumbled through the air, crashing into two of Nathan's escape cars. The explosion lit up the night, but Nathan's vehicle had already pulled away.

I leapt forward, covering thirty feet in a single bound, and landed on the hood of Nathan's car. I crushed the entire engine with my weight, bringing the vehicle to a screeching halt.

Nathan stared at me through the windshield, terror finally breaking through his arrogant mask. He scrambled out of the passenger side, and his warriors immediately formed a protective circle around him.

"It's over, Nathan," I growled, stalking toward him. "Surrender now."

"I would never, Ramsey. You have to kill me to get what you want. Think about Lyla… what will she do when she discovers what you did to me?" he spat, his eyes darting around seeking escape.

His guards attacked together, shifting into their wolf forms. Against normal opponents, five Alphas would be formidable. Against a Lycan in war form, they were merely an inconvenience.

I batted the first two aside with one sweep of my arm. The third managed to duck under my guard and leap for my throat, but his teeth couldn't penetrate my thick fur. I grabbed him mid-air and threw him into the fourth warrior. Both went down in a tangle of limbs.

The fifth guard—I recognised him as Alpha Regan from Shadow Moon Pack—he hesitated, then dropped to his knees.

"Mercy, Alpha Ramsey," he pleaded. "Nathan forced us to join him. He threatened to kill me, and I'm bound to him by the blood oath.

"Get out of my way," I ordered, "and you'll be judged fairly when this is over."

He scrambled aside, leaving Nathan exposed and alone.noveldrama

Nathan backed away, his confidence entirely gone now. "You know you can't kill me, Lyla won't like that. So convenient for you to send her away while you attacked me. If you kill me, she would never forgive you," he warned, though his voice shook. "You have no idea what's coming."

"Then enlighten me," I challenged, continuing my advance.

Instead of answering, Nathan pulled something from his pocket—a small black device with a single button. Before I could reach him, he pressed it.

A deafening explosion ripped through the camp behind us. I turned instinctively toward the sound, toward my warriors still fighting.

"Your pack or me, Ramsey," Nathan taunted. "Choose quickly."

I hesitated for just a moment—long enough for Nathan to dive into the underbrush and disappear into the darkness.

"Killian, after him!" I ordered, already racing back toward the explosion.

The centre of the camp was in flames. Nathan had rigged the command tent with explosives powerful enough to take out a city block. Bodies lay everywhere—both enemy and ally.

"Report!" I barked into my radio.

"Southern sector secure," Lenny responded immediately. "Minimal casualties. What was that blast?"

"Nathan's parting gift," I replied grimly. "Status on the Ferals?"

"Retreating with the remaining panthers," Freya reported. "Should we pursue?"

"No. Ferals and Panthers are night creatures, and it's dark already. Instead, secure the perimeter and tend to the wounded. We've won, at least for now."

I returned to my normal form; the transformation left me exhausted but functional. The war form took tremendous energy to maintain—another reason we used it so rarely.

My warriors were also reverting, many collapsing from the strain of their first complete transformation. Young Lycans weren't taught to access the war form until they reached maturity at fifty years. Many of mine had been forced to learn quickly over the past weeks as Nathan's threat grew.

"Killian," I called through the radio. "Report."

"Lost him, Alpha," came the frustrated reply. "He had some underground passage prepared. The entrance collapsed behind him."

"Get back here," I ordered. "We need to secure the camp."

As dawn broke over the battlefield, I surveyed what remained of Nathan's forces. Most were dead. Some had surrendered and were now bound with silver chains, awaiting trial. I know I said I didn't want to take prisoners, but on second thought, we needed all the men who could gather for the great war with the Dark One.

Lenny's face was grim as he approached me. "Twenty-three dead on our side," he reported. "Forty-seven wounded, twelve critically."

I closed my eyes briefly, feeling each loss like a physical wound. "And the enemy?"

"Over three hundred confirmed kills. Sixty-two prisoners, mostly lower-ranking wolves forced into service."

"Make sure the prisoners are treated fairly," I instructed. "Separate those who were coerced from those who followed Nathan willingly."

"Already done," Lenny assured me. "What about Nathan?"

"He escaped, but he's running with barely a dozen followers. His army is destroyed, his supplies captured or burned. He's no longer a military threat."

"But still dangerous," Lenny warned.

"Yes," I agreed. "And he knows our secret now. The war form will no longer be our advantage alone."

We'd kept the Lycan war form hidden for generations, using it only in the most desperate circumstances. The ability separated true Lycans from common werewolves—a genetic gift passed down through the ancient bloodlines.

"We should head back to White Mountain," Freya suggested, joining us. "Nathan might use our absence to attack the pack house."

"The barriers will hold," I said. "And the former Ferals guarding it are more than capable. But you're right—we should return."