Wolf's Awakening: The Chosen Alpha

The tremor pulsed through the chamber floor like a heartbeat, quickening into a shudder that rattled the rusted machinery scattered around them. Ethan tensed, the medallion at his chest flaring with heat, a quiet tether against the chaos threatening to swallow him. The children pressed closer, their small bodies trembling against the crate he leaned on, their ragged breaths cutting through the stillness Rhea's absence left behind. The drip of water from the unseen ceiling sharpened, each splash a stark note in the damp, heavy air.

"Stay calm," Ethan said, his voice low and steady despite the wolf clawing at his restraint. He swept his gaze across the chamber, senses probing the dark. A new scent pierced the must—ozone and oil, cold and mechanical, a stark contrast to the organic decay. "Sarah, keep them together. I need to check this out."

Sarah nodded, her small hands tightening around a younger boy's arm. "Be careful," she whispered, her trust a weight he carried willingly. Ethan gave a quick nod, rising as his boots crunched on the grit-strewn floor, moving toward the tunnel where Rhea had vanished.

The hum deepened, vibrating through his bones. He crouched at the tunnel's mouth, peering into the gloom. Rhea's device glowed faintly ahead, her silhouette tense against the shadows. He caught the sharp hitch in her breath—trouble. "Rhea?" he called, voice firm but measured. No answer came, only his echo bouncing off the stone.

The tremor spiked, a jolt that sent dust cascading from above. A metallic groan roared through the tunnel, followed by static—a military transmission, fragmented but clear enough: "…containment unit… Subject 7… northwest sector…" Ethan's jaw tightened. They weren't just sending soldiers—they'd unleashed something heavier, something to trap him.

Rhea emerged from the dark, her silver-gray eyes sharp with alarm. "Ethan, it's a mech—heavy containment drone. It's blocking the safehouse route. We're pinned."

"A mech?" Ethan's mind flashed to classified briefings—armored units designed for enhanced threats. "Armored, energy-armed?"

"Worse," Rhea said, wiping sweat from her brow. "Thermal tracking, barriers, cannons. Pulled from a black site after we broke the ritual." She glanced back, grim. "It's slow but closing fast. Minutes away."

Ethan's gut twisted. A mech was a wall, not a foe he could claw through easily. The children's soft murmurs behind him sharpened his resolve—he'd promised them safety. "Can your bullets pierce it?" he asked, eyeing her weapon.

"Maybe," Rhea said, pulling a rune-etched magazine. "They disrupt supernatural energy, but against tech? We'd need a weak spot—joints, core, something exposed." She met his gaze. "We hit it together, or we're done."

The ground shook, the crunch of stone echoing closer. Ethan's senses mapped it—forty yards. "Together it is," he said, turning to the children. "Stay behind the crates. Don't move."

Sarah's eyes held a silent plea, but he forced a nod and followed Rhea into the tunnel. The walls narrowed, the air chilling as the roar intensified. They rounded a bend, and there it stood—a hulking mass of steel, red sensors glowing like predator's eyes. Cannons hummed, its legs grinding forward with relentless precision.

Ethan's breath caught. "That's no prototype," he muttered. "It's built for me."

"Richards' doing," Rhea said, crouching. She pointed to a glowing seam beneath. "Core's there. Draw its fire—I'll hit it."

The mech's sensors locked on, beeping harshly. Ethan surged into battle form, claws gleaming, fur dark against the stone. He darted forward, a cannon blast searing past his shoulder. He rolled, claws scraping, and lunged at its leg. Rhea fired, bullets sparking off armor—one hit a joint, steam hissing.

"Keep it moving!" she shouted, reloading. Ethan roared, leaping onto its side, claws digging in. The metal resisted, but he felt his wolf and human mind align—each strike precise, not wild. A cannon swiveled; he dropped as it fired, the wall shattering in shards.

"Now!" he growled, slamming its leg to expose the core. Rhea's shot struck true—sparks flared, circuits cracked. The mech lurched, collapsing with a thunderous crash, smoke curling from its husk.

Ethan reverted, panting, the medallion steadying him. Rhea stepped up, a faint smirk on her lips. "Nice work. Thought we were scrap for a second."

"Me too," he said, wiping blood from a scratch. His mind flickered to Lilith—her retreat, her words about his blood. "Rhea, why'd she let us go? Lilith. She could've ended us back there."

Rhea holstered her weapon, frowning. "Doubt, maybe. She said your blood stirred something—old echoes. If it's as ancient as she hinted, it might scare her more than she admits." She paused, silver eyes narrowing. "Or she's stepping back to see what you become. Either way, she's not here now."

Ethan nodded, filing it away. If Lilith had quit the hunt, it left Richards as the immediate threat—but her queen wouldn't relent. His blood tied him to something bigger, something he'd unravel later. "Let's get the kids," he said. "We're not clear yet."

They returned to the chamber, Sarah rushing to Ethan, hugging him. "You're okay," she mumbled.

"Yeah," he said, ruffling her hair. "We are."

Rhea checked her device, frowning. "Mech's down, but more signatures are closing in—military, not blood scent. We've got time, not safety."

Ethan stood, resolve hardening. Lilith might've stepped aside, but the war wasn't over. He was their shield—by choice, not fate. "Then we keep moving," he said. "No matter what."

[To be continued…]