Howl of betaship

Denzel stopped in his tracks. He and Ezrianna exchanged curious looks. The knock came again. This time, it sounded persistent.

"Who's there?" Ezrianna said.

Denzel did not wait for an answer. He opened the door, determined to face whatever or whoever lay ahead as he did.

Standing in front of him with a nervous look on his face was Ronald. He must've masked his scent, so Denzel didn't pick it up instantly.

While other werewolves gained popularity by being loud, brash, and overbearing, Ronald was more famous for being restrained and thoughtful.

When he gave commands, it was with a particular kindness that endeared him to everybody. When Denzel saw him standing by the door, the fear that had begun to build up in his heart dissipated.

"Ahh, Ronald, it's just you," he said, taking a deep breath.

"Relax, Ezrianna, it's only Ronald."

Ezrianna approached the door, and she and Ronald exchanged knowing smiles.

"Hi there, Ronnie," she said to him, winking.

"Hi, Ezrianna," he replied.

Denzel looked at the both of them and caught the recognition that sparkled in their eyes.

"Ohh, you two know each other?" He arched an eyebrow at them.

"Of course," Ezrianna answered warmly.

"Ronald is one of the people I said occasionally come to check up on me."

Denzel nodded. His werewolves had been doing a good job. But he wasn't surprised; Ronald was never known to flout orders or slack in his duties. He was just about to ask him what had happened when Ronald spoke.

"Alpha, I need to see you," he said each word beating a fist into his palm.

"In private," he added.

"Ahh, werewolf business,"

Ezrianna said, and she retreated into the cabin.

"Hey, you seem tense. What do you want to see me for?" Denzel's expression remained calm as he spoke.

"There's trouble at the mansion," Ronald said.

"Trouble? In my mansion." Now, his interest was aroused. He got out of the cabin. He took one look at Ezriana and nodded at her. Ronald fell in steps beside him, and they headed for his truck.

As he drove, he listened as Ronald told him that two wolves — Deere and Moss — had argued about who would be the next beta.

The argument had become heated as each tried to convince the other that he was the most viable candidate.

It had resulted in a physical altercation that was ongoing when he'd left the mansion to call him.

Denzel clicked his tongue in irritation as he listened. Werewolves could be fierce and overzealous. He knew there would be quite a craze going through the pack about who would be the new Beta since Reid was gone, but he didn't think it would be that soon.

"And you?" Denzel said, now speeding.

"Me?" Ronald said, shifting his weight on the passenger seat, looking nervously at Denzel. "What about me?"

"Yeah, you. You aren't fighting to be beta?"

Denzel cast Ronald a questioning look and saw his confidence falter. The guy shifted again.

"Well, I believe that when the time is right, you'll pick a Beta for yourself," he said.

"I see."

They were at the mansion within minutes, and Denzel parked the truck and hopped out of it quickly.

Nira was waiting for him at the door; a few werewolves stood by her side, and as he walked towards them, they bowed their heads in submission.

"You're here," Nira said, her face calm as if nothing had happened.

"Two of your canines were at war."

"So I heard."

He went into the living room, his hand around Nira's waist, his eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other.

He sunk himself into the couch and crossed his legs. Nira nodded to another werewolf who went inside to call Deere and Moss.

They came outside painting and sweating with bruises on their faces. Even in the presence of the Alpha, they still seemed defiant.

"On your knees," Denzel said gently, but nothing was gentle about his demeanor.

They both dropped to their knees as Denzel examined them. Nira put her thumb in his palm and rubbed it gently, an act she knew he found soothing.

Denzel looked at them until they couldn't withstand the fire that seemed to burn in his eyes anymore and dropped their gaze to the marbled floor of the living room.

"What is this nonsense?" Denzel said, his voice still calm.

No answer.

"Answer me!" He yelled this time, and Nira rubbed his palm even faster. She talked to him telepathically, asking that he calm down.

"I hear you've both been fighting, squabbling like a bunch of snotty-nosed toddlers about who will be the next Beta. My Beta. Well, let me tell you this: all this fighting will do no good because it's I, and I alone, that will choose who will be my Beta."

There was a loud silence after Denzel finished speaking. Deere and Moss had sober expressions, their heads still bowed.

Nira looked affectionately at Denzel, but he did not meet her eyes; he was still staring at the errant werewolves.

"Stand up and leave this instance," he said in a low, smoldering tone.

Deere and Moss got on their feet and started to leave. Denzel also stood up and began to walk to his room, Nira holding his hands.

She could feel the swiftness of his pulse, could hear him exhale deeply with each breath, and she knew he was struggling with his calm, which seemed unusual.

He was always composed, but since Reid's betrayal, he had become easily provoked by his subjects.

"Calm down, Denzel," Nira whispered As they entered the room.

"It's nothing. They're just being overzealous."

"I know," Denzel said, breathing in sharply.

"But they're supposed to know better."

Denzel sat on the bed, his head in his hands, and Nira sat beside him again. She stroked his back, a steady, circular rhythm that eased the tension in Denzel's muscles. He raised his head to look at her, and she gave him a disarming smile.

"It's fine," she mouthed.

"Of course. But Deere and Moss weren't exactly wrong."

"How do you mean?"

"I can only go so long without a Beta."

Nira sighed. "I know."

"Go down and find Ronald. Tell him that I want every pack member, regardless of hierarchy, to be at the pack meeting grounds tonight?"

Before he was done speaking, Nira was already on her feet, her lips curled knowingly in a smile.

"Ohh? And what plan do you have for tonight, oh mighty alpha?" She bowed.

Denzel chuckled. "Heh, like you don't already know."

***

When Denzel was still a young werewolf, a cub, he would follow his father everywhere, to every meeting. His father, wanting his son to adopt the lupine ways, did nothing to stop him.

Twice, he had witnessed a staged fight between wolves struggling to be his father's beta.

The first occurred when he was very young, too young to recall all the details—but the second happened when he was a teenager, with all the curiosity of a child but with the smartness and agility of a young adult.

He remembered very well how tense the night was, so much so that it felt like electricity was in the air.

He remembered the growling of the wolves as they watched, their breaths bated, their eyes watching every step and misstep of the battling members. He remembered the victor and the vanquished, the noise that erupted from the pack after one wolf finished the other.

He remembered everything, and now, as he strode to the top of the dais, threading through the lines of werewolves who made way for him as he walked, that memory came rushing in.

When he was atop the dais, a hush fell over the pack.

"Brothers and sisters of the Blackmoon Pack, welcome," his voice booming through the night air.

"Some of you might be surprised by this, this sudden meeting, but I assure you there's good reason for it. Earlier today, some members of this pack were involved in a brawl for who would be my beta. Childish as it may seem, they are not exactly wrong."

There were murmurs of agreement as Denzel stopped to let his words sink in.

"But we are wolves, killers, strong and agile," he said.

"We settle our differences with our paws. We battle for blood. We battle for power. And tonight, we will witness a battle for who would be my next beta."

Denzel turned his head towards the sky and howled. The other werewolves followed suit.

"Deere and Moss," Denzel thundered, "step out."

The two werewolves stepped out.

There was something in their demeanors, something glaring in their mannerisms that showed no fear, that showed unwaning confidence. Denzel saw it and smiled.

"I like this," he said to himself.

"The rules are simple," he said aloud.

"This is a fight to the death. Whoever wins will occupy the prestigious position of being my beta. I don't need to explain further. You know what that means."

The crowd began to shift backward to make way for the duel that was about to occur.

Denzel positioned himself correctly; he wanted to enjoy every minute of the fight.

"Alpha," someone called from the crowd, and everywhere hushed.

"Alpha."