Page 3 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
He reaches out.
I flinch—violently. And the heat explodes.
It’s sudden. A surge, forceful and pure. I gasp, my back arching. My vision becomes double. The clearing tilts.
My scream rips through the air like thunder.
They all jolt.
The air shifts. Leaves rustle. The fire trembles.
“What the hell—”
My body hits the ground, convulsing. The heat splits my spine in half.
I scream again, but it’s no longer a girl’s scream. It’s too deep. Too cracked open. It echoes through the trees like something not meant to live.
My arms seize up. My knees give out. I drop to the earth, my palms slamming into the dirt, and then I feel it: bones moving. Snapping. Rebuilding.
My fingers stretch too far. Joints pop, dislocate, then twist into place again. My back curves until it feels like my spine might tear through my skin, and then it does. My ribs shift, torso reshaping, legs shortening and thickening.
Pain roars through every nerve.
I don’t fight it. I let it take me.
This isn’t something they put inside me. It was always there, waiting.
The world blurs, darkens, then sharpens into terrifying clarity. My skin tears like paper. Fur erupts from muscle. My jaw cracks sideways, stretches forward, becomes a muzzle. My teeth grow—not human, not even animal. Something ancient. Something that never forgot how to kill.
My heartbeat slows. Focuses.
I rise, no longer standing on two feet.
I’m taller than any wolf should be. Heavier. More monstrous.
My paws crush the leaves beneath me. And I look up.
They’re still here. Frozen. Mouths open. One of them drops his bottle. It shatters on a rock at his feet.
I don’t give them time to run.
The first man is closest. The one who reached for me like I was a toy.
I launch at him.
He turns to flee but barely moves before my weight collides with his body. My jaws clamp around his throat. I feel the cartilage give. His scream is short, gurgled.
I shake once. His spine snaps. I let his body fall like garbage.
The second man tries to grab a burning stick from the fire. He’s smarter—no, more desperate. I see the fear in his eyes. I want him to feel it longer.
I circle him. Slowly. Deliberately.
He swings the stick at me, the flame trailing behind it. It brushes my fur. I don’t flinch.
I leap. Claws first. They sink into his chest, and we crash to the ground. He yells. He tries to crawl. I rip his shoulder open, exposing bone. His sobs become high-pitched whines.
I sink my teeth through his ribs.
