From Ashes to Alpha

The repurposed warehouse that serves as Morgan's operational headquarters hums with activity even at this late hour.

Where once industrial machinery occupied space, now stand desks, communication equipment, and strategy boards.

The walls are plastered with territory maps, surveillance photos of rival gang members, and handwritten notes detailing everything from protection payments to supply chain schedules.

The air hangs heavy with cigarette smoke and the unmistakable scent of ambition—that unique mixture of fear, determination, and ruthless calculation that permeates any criminal enterprise on the rise.

I sit at a desk that has somehow become "mine" in the two weeks since the successful operation against Gray Pack.

Papers spread before me in organized chaos—financial reports, territory assessments, and personnel recommendations. My wolf's head pin gleams on the lapel of my jacket, which I've draped over the chair to work in shirtsleeves.

Morgan stands beside me, leaning over to examine the expansion plan I've just completed. His face betrays nothing, but the subtle changes in his scent indicate approval.

"This plan is thorough," he remarks, finger tapping specific points on the map. "You've considered all contingencies."

I nod, suppressing a yawn after my fourteenth consecutive hour of work. "Thank you. We should increase manpower in these sectors. Gray Pack has been showing some movement recently."

"Retaliation?" Morgan questions.

"More like reorganization," I explain. "Their supply chain disruption hit them harder than expected. Internal conflict took out three of their lieutenants. They're scrambling to establish a new hierarchy."

Morgan's lips curve into a satisfied smile. "Exactly as you predicted."

A subordinate—Kevin, I think his name is—hurries into our area with a folder clutched in his hands. Two weeks ago, he wouldn't have acknowledged my existence. Now he addresses me directly, ignoring even Morgan's presence.

"Davis, northern district revenues increased by twenty percent compared to last month, just as you forecasted," he reports, handing me the financial summary.

I scan the numbers quickly, noting with satisfaction that our strategic redistribution of resources is yielding the expected results.

"The percentage will increase for another two months before stabilizing," I predict. "We should be prepared to defend those assets once Gray Pack recovers enough to notice."

Morgan nods appreciatively. "Our strategist certainly lives up to his reputation."

The praise still feels strange—unfamiliar warmth after a lifetime of being considered the family disappointment. I glance discreetly at my watch, noting with concern that I'm cutting it close for my meeting with Mia.

After repeatedly postponing our coffee shop catch-ups, I promised I wouldn't miss this one.

Morgan catches the gesture but doesn't immediately comment. Instead, he collects several reports from my desk. "The western territory expansion—how soon?"

"Three weeks," I reply. "We need to secure the Camden supply route first, establish relationships with local businesses, then move in gradually. Too fast, and we'll trigger resistance."

Another subordinate approaches, this one more senior—Marco, Morgan's longest-serving lieutenant. "Davis, the team at Jefferson Street is requesting guidance on the warehouse situation."

"Tell them to proceed with option two," I answer without hesitation. "Lower profile, higher yield, minimal exposure."

Marco nods and retreats, showing none of the resentment one might expect from a veteran suddenly taking orders from a newcomer.

The operation against Gray Pack had earned me more than Morgan's approval—it had demonstrated my value to everyone in the organization.

I check my watch again, more obviously this time. "Morgan, are we wrapping up soon? I have an important appointment to keep."

Morgan studies me for a moment, then laughs—a genuine sound rarely heard in these surroundings. "Even a steel-hearted strategist has a softer side? Must be a beautiful woman waiting."

I neither confirm nor deny, but something in my expression must give me away.

Morgan gathers the remaining papers from my desk. "Go. We've accomplished enough for one day. The empire won't crumble if you take an evening off."

I stand, collecting my jacket. "Thank you. I'll review the Southern District proposal first thing tomorrow."

I push open the door, the small bell announcing my arrival. The shop is surprisingly empty for this time of day—just a young couple absorbed in conversation near the window and an elderly man reading a newspaper at the counter.

Mia isn't behind the espresso machine as I expected. My eyes scan the space until I spot her in the furthest corner, partially hidden by the piano.

She's dressed casually in jeans and an oversized sweater, a baseball cap pulled low over her face, creating a shadow that partially obscures her features.

I approach, sliding into the chair opposite her. "Is this some kind of witness protection program I wasn't informed about?"

Mia looks up, her attempt at anonymity broken by the smile that brightens her face. "You're late. Again." She checks an imaginary watch on her wrist. "Twenty-three minutes, to be exact."

"Traffic," I offer lamely, the same excuse I'd given Morgan earlier.

"Mm-hmm." She pushes a cup toward me. "Still hot. I ordered your usual when I saw you crossing the street."I take a grateful sip of the perfectly prepared coffee, momentarily closing my eyes to savor the normalcy of the moment.

I reach into my messenger bag, pulling out a carefully wrapped package. " I brought you something."

Her eyes light up despite her concern. "A present? What's the occasion?"

"Do I need an occasion?" I push the package across the table, eager to shift the conversation away from the men who'd been asking questions.

Mia unwraps it carefully, gasping when she reveals the leather-bound book inside. "Oh my God, James! This is 'Secrets of Ancient Melodies'! This book is practically extinct!"

"I know you've been researching those melodies your mother taught you," I say softly, watching her trace the embossed cover with reverent fingers. "Thought this might help."

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she looks up at me. "You remember everything I tell you, don't you?"

"The important things," I reply simply. "Always."

She opens the book gingerly, inhaling the scent of aged paper. "Where did you even find this? I've been searching for years."

I asked, "How's the competition prep going? Finals are soon, right?"

She replied. "Next Friday." Her fingers drum nervously on the table. "I'm... terrified, honestly."

"You'll be amazing," I assure her, reaching across to still her fidgeting hands. "Your voice has power, Mia. Just like your soul."

She blushes slightly, looking down. "You haven't even heard my competition piece."

"I don't need to. I remember the first time I heard you sing—that night by the river when we were sixteen." The memory feels like it belongs to someone else's life now. "You made the stars listen, Mia."

She laughs softly. "Now you're just being dramatic."

"I'm being honest." I squeeze her hand gently. "Will you play something for me? Now?"

Mia glances toward the piano, hesitation crossing her features. "I don't know..."

"Please? For old times' sake."

She sighs in mock exasperation, but her smile betrays her. "Fine. One song. But only because you brought me a priceless book."

As she moves to the piano, I watch her transformation—the slight nervousness in her posture melting away as she settles on the bench, fingers hovering over the keys with natural confidence.

She removes her cap, shaking out her hair, no longer concerned with hiding.

The first notes fill the coffee shop, and the few other patrons turn to watch.

Mia begins to sing, her voice soft at first, then building with quiet strength. It's an old folk melody, one she's modified and made her own—a haunting tune about moonlight and secrets.

I close my eyes, letting the music wash over me. For these brief minutes, there is no Morgan, no Amelia, no power struggles or dangerous alliances—just Mia's voice and the strange peace it has always brought me.

When she finishes, the small audience applauds, and she ducks her head modestly before returning to our table.

After chatting with Mia for a while, I went home.

My apartment is barely recognizable compared to the dingy one-room space I called home just months ago.

The promotion within Morgan's organization came with tangible benefits—a spacious two-bedroom unit in a secure building, modern furnishings, and a view of the city that still surprises me each time I look out the window.

Moonlight spills across the polished hardwood floors as I sit in an armchair by the window, a glass of whiskey dangling from my fingers.

I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting the burn center me.

Rising from the chair, I cross to the full-length mirror mounted on the wall opposite my bed.

It's not an ordinary mirror, but one specially designed to reflect a werewolf's true nature—a gift from Amelia, meant to help with the meditation techniques she's been teaching me.

I stand before it, watching as my reflection stares back—outwardly human, but with something else flickering just beneath the surface.

As I focus, my eyes begin to change, human brown giving way to a luminous gold that seems to glow from within.

"Balance," I whisper to my reflection. "No matter how difficult the path."

The wolf inside me stirs, responding to my focus. Not the snarling, desperate creature it once was when my family cast me out—weak, untrained, uncontrolled—but something more refined. More purposeful.

Amelia's training has changed me in ways I'm only beginning to understand.

The wooden case Dominic gave me contained more than just a key and a coded journal—it held the first piece of a truth about my lineage that even my birth family may not have known.

"From abandoned pup to apex predator," I tell my reflection, watching the gold in my eyes intensify. "I'll prove it to everyone. Including myself."

*******************

Hey peeps!Which character do you find the most interesting? Let's discuss in the comments!