From Ashes to Alpha

The scent of rust and stale coffee hung in the air as I hunched forward in my metal folding chair. My fingers drummed against my thigh—a nervous tic I couldn't quite control.

The warehouse's dim fluorescent lights cast long shadows across Daniel's face as he traced our route on the map with his index finger.

"This should be straightforward," Daniel said, his voice carrying the confident edge that came naturally to born wolves. "We pick up the package here, follow this route, and make the drop at this location. No detours, no stops."

I nodded, memorizing every detail. This was my chance—maybe my only chance—to prove myself. At the bottom of the werewolf hierarchy, a "cub" like me rarely got opportunities like this.

"What's in the package?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

The room went quiet. Daniel folded the map deliberately, his movements precise.

"Information," he said finally. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"But—"

"James." The way Daniel said my name—not "cub" or "pup" but my actual name—made me straighten in my seat. "The less you know, the better. For now, just focus on doing exactly what I tell you."

The subtle scent of adrenaline perfumed the air around us. These wolves were nervous, despite their bravado. Whatever this "milk run" was, it mattered.

"Time to gear up," Daniel announced, ending the briefing. "We move in thirty."

As the others dispersed, checking weapons and donning dark jackets, Daniel caught my arm. His grip was firm but not threatening.

"Why did you pick me for this?" I asked quietly. "Max is right. I'm not exactly—"

"Because you're invisible," Daniel interrupted. "No one looks twice at you. That's an advantage in our line of work."

I absorbed this, not sure whether to be insulted or flattered. "And if something goes wrong?"

Daniel's expression hardened. "Then you'll finally find out what you're made of, won't you?"

He released my arm and turned away, leaving me with the distinct impression that this "straightforward" job might be anything but.

The familiar knot of anxiety tightened in my chest, but beneath it was something else—a spark of excitement. After years of being nothing, tonight I might finally become something.

I just hoped that "something" wouldn't be a corpse.

Taking a deep breath, I went to get ready for my first mission.

My apartment wasn't much to look at—a one-bedroom rental in the forgotten corner of the city.

Although the prize money from my competition could allow me to live in a better place, I still want to live a simple life. As long as I have a clean place to live, that's enough.

The walls were thin enough that I could hear my neighbor's television through them, some reality show with too much shouting. I'd learned to tune it out.

I laid my gear out methodically on my bed: dark clothes, sturdy boots, a small flashlight, and the burner phone Daniel had given me.

Nothing that would raise suspicions if I was stopped, but enough to be useful if things went sideways.

"Preparation is power," I muttered to myself.

My regular phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I frowned. Not many people had this number. I picked it up, my heart skipping a beat when I saw the name.

Amelia Jones.

I still wasn't sure why someone like her—a pure-blood werewolf from one of the three founding families, the CEO of a multinational corporation—had taken an interest in me.

I opened the message, my thumb hovering over the screen.

"First runs are always the riskiest. Three things to remember:1) Trust your instincts, especially when something feels off.2) Watch the shadows, not just the obvious threats.3) The quiet moments before chaos are your best advantage.The Jones bloodline has exceptional perception - use it."

I read it twice, then a third time. How did she know about tonight? I hadn't told her about Daniel's crew or this job.

"What game are you playing?" I asked the empty room, as if Amelia might materialize to answer.

After a moment's hesitation, I typed back: "I appreciate the advice. I'm prepared."

Simple. Professional. Not giving away how unsettled I felt.

Her reply came almost instantly, as if she'd been waiting with her phone in hand.

"Being prepared and being ready are different things. Report back when it's done."

"What does that even mean?" I growled, tossing the phone onto my bed.

The phone bounced once, then lay silent, but Amelia's words echoed in my head. Trust your instincts. Watch the shadows. The quiet moments before chaos.

"Fine," I said aloud, as I resumed my preparations. "I'll be extra paranoid. Happy now?"

Only the distant sound of my neighbor's television answered me.

I checked my watch—still forty minutes before I needed to leave to meet Daniel and the others. I sat on the edge of my bed, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to center myself.

A knock at my door made me jump.

I wasn't expecting anyone. Daniel had been clear that we would meet at the warehouse, not here. No one else knew where I lived, except...

The scent reached me a moment later. Familiar, yet unexpected. Mia Wilson.

I crossed the small apartment in four strides and opened the door. Mia stood there, her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her warm brown eyes met mine, and I felt that familiar tug—comfort and longing mixed together.

"You're going out tonight," she said. It wasn't a question.

"How did you—"

Mia's eyes flashed with many expressions. In the end, she just said, "Be careful."

My phone buzzed again. I broke away from Mia to check it, half-expecting another cryptic message from Amelia.

Instead, it was Daniel: "Be ready. Timeline moved up. Picking you up in 10."

"I have to go." I said, looking back at Mia.

"OK. Then I'll go back first." I looked at Mia's back and also disappeared into the darkness.

The cargo van smelled of cigarettes and gun oil. It was an older model, inconspicuous enough to blend into traffic but solid enough to withstand trouble if it found us.

Daniel drove with a casual confidence, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. From my position in the passenger seat, I kept my eyes moving, scanning our surroundings just as I'd been instructed.

In the back, Max and Sophie sat silently on either side of a metal briefcase. Neither had spoken much since we'd picked up the package from a nervous-looking man in a parking garage.

Whatever was inside, it was important enough to warrant four werewolves as escorts.

"First time's always the worst," Daniel said suddenly, breaking the silence. "The waiting, the wondering if something's going to go wrong."

I nodded. "I'm fine."

"Never said you weren't," Daniel replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Just making conversation."

The city slid past our windows, the well-lit commercial district giving way to more industrial areas. Fewer pedestrians, fewer cars, fewer witnesses.

My wolf senses, though weaker than those of higher-ranked werewolves, picked up on the changing environment—the scents shifting from food and perfume to rust and chemicals.

A flash of blue in the side mirror caught my attention. A motorcycle, sleek and fast, passing us on the left.

"Nice bike," Daniel commented casually.

I didn't respond, my eyes tracking the rider as they moved ahead, turned at the next intersection, then disappeared from view. Something about their posture, the way they'd glanced our way as they passed...

Five minutes later, the same blue motorcycle appeared again, this time coming from a side street, passing us once more.

"That motorcycle," I said, keeping my voice low and even. "Blue Kawasaki. Second time it's passed us."

Daniel's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, then back to the road. "Could be nothing," he said, but I noted his hands repositioning on the steering wheel, his posture subtly shifting to alertness.

"Driver's wearing heavy clothes despite the warm night," I continued, watching as the motorcycle moved ahead of us again. "And he's keeping pace exactly two blocks behind us now."

Daniel's expression changed, the dismissive look replaced by focused attention. "Good eye. What else?"

I scanned our surroundings more intently, Amelia's words echoing in my mind. Watch the shadows, not just the obvious threats. My gaze swept across storefronts, reflections in windows, the patterns of traffic around us.

"Black sedan at the next intersection," I said, spotting it tucked into a loading zone. "Engine running, no headlights. Three people inside."

"Shit," Sophie muttered from the back.

Daniel nodded, looking genuinely impressed. "Change of plans." He picked up a small radio from the center console. "Possible tail. Implementing route B."

A crackle of static, then a voice responded: "Copy that. Backup standing by at checkpoint four."

I hadn't known there was backup, or checkpoints, or a route B. Clearly, this "milk run" was more complicated than Daniel had let on.

"You want to tell me what's really in that case?" I asked quietly.

Daniel's jaw tightened. "Later. Right now, I need your eyes. You're seeing things even before I do, which is..." He trailed off, giving me a curious look.

"Unusual," Max finished from the back seat. "Especially for a cub."