The Alpha’s Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger

Ramsey

I stared at the stack of reports on my desk, each page with numbers representing lives lost and battles fought. Two weeks had passed since the Feral attacks, and we were still counting our dead.

"Fifty-three warriors killed in action," Lenny said, standing at attention as he delivered his analysis. "Another seventy-two wounded, eighteen of them critically. We lost four healers who were trying to evacuate civilians."

My grandfather shifted in his chair, his expression grim. His arm was still in a cast from where a Feral had nearly torn it off. The Elders of the White Moon Pack and the Council of the White Mountain Region sat in a semicircle, their faces solemn as they absorbed the casualties.

"What about the enemy's losses?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

"We captured alive approximately two hundred Ferals," Lenny continued. "Another thirty or so died when they turned on each other in the confusion. We also took down fifteen of Nathan's elite guards who were commanding the Ferals."

"And the refugees?" I asked.

"Three hundred and twenty-seven from the Southern Packs," Lenny replied. "Mostly women, children, and elders. Sixty-two warriors among them, all loyal to the fallen Alphas."noveldrama

Gamma Darius stood silently behind my chair, his presence a comfort. Unlike most of the elders, Darius had been on the front lines with me, fighting to protect our people.

"The Ferals showed unexpected coordination," Lenny added. "They moved like a trained military unit, not like the mindless beasts we're used to facing."

"That's Nathan's influence," my grandfather growled. "Or whatever is controlling him."

"The Dark One," an elder murmured, and several others nodded in agreement.

When Lenny finished his report, a heavy silence fell over the room. I waited, knowing what would come next: the criticism, the second-guessing, the politics.

I wasn't disappointed.

"Alpha Ramsey," Elder Silva began, his voice carrying the weight of his eighty years, "what measures will be put in place for the next attack? Or are we going to rely solely on the power of the Moonsinger?"

Several elders nodded, their expressions skeptical. They'd seen what Lyla could do—how she'd calmed the Ferals, healed the wounded—but old Lycans were slow to trust Lyla's power, and since she wasn't a Lycan, too, it doubled their suspicion.

"Lyla is a powerful ally," I said carefully, "but we're strengthening our defenses regardless. Additional barriers are being constructed at vulnerable points. We've doubled the patrol rotations."

"That's all well and good," Elder Silva pressed, "but shouldn't we be seeking more traditional alliances? The White Lake Pack has offered—"

"That's not what's important now," interrupted Elder Maddox of the White Mountain Council, rising to his feet. "We need to focus on helping restore White Hill Pack. Thankfully, a few of them survived." He cleared his throat. "Also, we must send the werewolves home."

I looked up sharply. "The werewolves?"

"The refugees from the Southern Packs," he clarified, as if I were slow.

"Why would we do that?" I asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it.

Elder Maddox sighed dramatically. "Isn't it obvious? We're at war. We cannot harbor the enemy. Besides, shouldn't we be more worried about food and resources being depleted by the presence of these foreigners? We don't know how long the war will last, and when there's a way, people cannot grow food."

"So you want me to send back hundreds of scared women and children because they're from the 'enemy side'?" I kept my voice deliberately calm.

"Yes," he said firmly, meeting my gaze without shame. "Their Alphas chose to align with Nathan initially."

Something snapped inside me. I stood slowly, walking up to Elder Maddox until we were face to face.

"Weren't you the one sucking up to Nathan a few weeks ago?" I asked quietly. "Telling me to go pay for damages and whatnot? Why are you suddenly acting innocent?"

His face flushed red, but before he could respond, I turned to address the entire room.

"For too long, I've acted like a weakling," I announced. "I've listened to your advice, deferred to your experience." I swept my gaze across their shocked faces. "All I wanted was a world where people could voice their opinions freely. But you've disregarded my rule at every turn."

I moved to the center of the room, feeling a strange calm wash over me. "Starting today, I'm dissolving all councils. Both the White Mountain Council and the White Moon Council."

Gasps and protests erupted around me. My grandfather's eyes widened, but there was something like pride in his gaze.

"You can't do that!" Elder Silva sputtered. "It's against tradition!"

"I've discovered you're useless to me," I continued, ignoring the outburst. "Every hard decision I've ever made, I made alone and with the help of my Beta and Gamma. What did you do to help? Absolutely nothing. But you're always quick to support our enemies."

I walked back to my desk, placed both hands on it, and leaned forward. "Furthermore, any elder who comes to me with talk about marrying Cassidy Thorne will be thrown into the dungeons."

The room fell silent at the threat. Even Elder Silva, Cassidy's uncle, closed his mouth with an audible click.

"Someone should reach out to White Lake Pack," I added. "Tell them I'm giving them an ultimatum. Either they send the required number of warriors needed at our borders and participate in meetings, or I'll bring down my wrath upon them."

"Alpha Ramsey," Elder Maddox ventured, his voice trembling slightly, "you can't just throw away centuries of tradition—"

"Can't I?" I straightened up. "I am the Alpha of the White Moon Pack. I am the Lycan Leader, the Leader of this world, and I lead the White Mountain Region. If tradition means sending children back to their deaths, then tradition can burn."

Gamma Darius stepped forward. "I support Alpha Ramsey's decision," he announced. His statement carried weight—Darius rarely spoke at council meetings.

"As do I," Lenny added, standing beside me.

My grandfather rose from his chair with some difficulty, his injured arm cradled against his chest. "My grandson has shown more wisdom and courage in the past two weeks than I've seen from this council in decades," he said. "I stand with him."

One by one, the younger council members began to nod, some hesitantly, others with clear relief. The older members looked stunned, unable to process this sudden power shift.

"What will replace the council?" someone asked.