Wreckage unleashed

Denzel's eyes darted from one corner to the other, and he sensed his rage intensify, mirroring an erupting volcano.

A vintage sports car that had been his father's, which he rarely took out, had been battered, its windscreen broken, its sides dented. He hissed as he took a deep breath.

"Fuck," he said, increasingly becoming exasperated.

The interior of the mansion was no better. Some of the windows had been shattered. He looked around and saw the chairs and tables upturned, the television lying flat.

There was a deliberateness to it, and Denzel could tell, but this only aggravated him. And then, just as he took one more step into the house, he had a thought.

"Nira!" His eyes blazed with a combination of fear and anger.

Usually, after the pack meetings, she would wait for him at the door to hand him a cup of coffee and smother him with kisses. But today was not the same.

As he went up the steps quickly, feeling light in his legs and a bit worried, he wished that nothing terrible had happened to her.

"Nira," he called again upon reaching the room's door.

Initially tapping it lightly, he escalated to pounding when met with silence.

Despite repeatedly calling her name, there was no response. Desperation drove him to twist the doorknob frantically, but it seemed locked outside; his keys were inconveniently stashed in the truck's glove compartment.

"Shit," Denzel muttered in frustration. Determinedly, he forcefully opened the door using the weight of his shoulder and upper body, sending it crashing to the floor.

The sight that greeted him was Nira, lifeless on the floor with a gash on her forehead.

"No," he whispered first, then exclaimed, "no!" Hurrying to her side, he shook her limp body, panic rising with each unresponsive moment.

"Nira, wake up." Fear constricted his throat. He persistently shook her, relying on his keen lupine senses to tune into the faint, rhythmic pulse of her heartbeat.

"Nira?" he said gently. "Come on, love, wake up."

Cradling her head, he rocked gently, and her eyes fluttered open, wide and fearful as if emerging from a nightmare. Struggling to rise, she was held back by Denzel.

"Hey, hey, relax."

"Is he ... are they gone?" she asked, voice breaking.

"They? Who are they, Nira?" Denzel inquired.

***

Nira had been in her room that night when she heard crashing noises in the living room. Before the sudden crashes, she had been having disturbing premonitions.

She knew something was about to happen, something dangerous, but she didn't know exactly what it was. She was in her room — her eyes closed, her legs crossed, her mouth working fast as she said a spell — when she heard the front door open.

Immediately, her fears took over. No one was supposed to be home; all the werewolves had gone for the pack meetings.

"Who's there?" she screamed, scrambling to her feet. But even as she stepped out the door, she knew who it was — Reid.

He had come with a small pack of werewolves. Nira addressed them from the overlook.

"What do you want, Reid?" She mustered the courage to speak calmly. She would not give Reid the pleasure of seeing her petrified.

He looked up at her with a smug smile.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he said, speeding up to meet her where she stood.

"You ratted me out to Denzel, didn't you?"

Nira turned to face him. "Oh, please, Reid! Did you think I'd allow you to usurp the Alpha? I couldn't let that happen."

He lowered his gaze, silently chuckling.

There was a menacing undertone to his laughter, quickening Nira's heartbeat, yet she remained motionless.

"Fuck Denzel, okay?" Reid said.

"And fuck you, too, Nira. You think you're something special because he's dragging you along. But that's all you're going to get — being dragged along — nothing more than that. Very soon, he will need a mate, and when he finds one, he'll push you to the curb. It'll be over for you."

Nira looked at the three werewolves he had walked in with.

They were young, and they seemed to be largely inexperienced. She almost felt pity for them as they paced the living room nervously.

"I'm not complaining, Reid, am I?" she asked, looking at him squarely.

Reid grunted. His canines elongated as he bared his teeth. Nira knew what was happening — he was getting infuriated, impatient.

"I'll get you, Nira," he said. "You'll pay."

Nira turned to run into the room, but she was hardly a match for Reid's lupine speed. Just before she shut the door, he was in the room with her. He growled at her, intimidating her as she stumbled backwards, trembling.

"Reid, remember, whatever you do, Denzel is gonna come for you."

At the mention of Denzel's name, Reid's anger seemed kindled. He shoved her backwards in such a violent manner that she fell and hit her head on the sideboard of the bed. Reid stared at her unconscious body and smiled to himself.

He turned and left the room, and when he got back to the living room, he instructed the guys who had come with him to do whatever damage they could do before they left.

"We're here to make a statement," he said as he pushed the television from where it sat.

"A clear and loud statement to Denzel."

***

"What happened?" Denzel asked Nira.

He still had her head cradled in his arms. They were on the bed now. Denzel had alerted only a few of the werewolves, the ones in the upper hierarchy, the ones feared and respected by the rest of the pack; this was to avoid the spread of a wave of panic across the pack.

They had started cleaning the mansion, but some things had been irreparably damaged.

"I was here meditating, and then I heard noises in the living room," she explained.

"When I went out, Reid was standing there with—"

"Reid?!?!"

"Yeah. Why do you sound surprised?"

"Reid did this?"

Nira nodded weakly. Denzel could not and did not explain it, but he thought even with Reid's banishment from the pack, he should still have some loyalty, if not to him, but to the pack, and respect for the mansion where he had spent a lot of time.

"What are you going to do?" Nira asked.

He said nothing. He held her hand, drawing circles in her open palm with his index finger. He was deep in thought.

"Denzel?" She called.

"I don't know, Nira. I don't want to do anything that would jeopardize the pack's safety. But I know one thing for sure: Reid must pay for this. When I get my paws on him, he will regret ever being born."

"Be careful," Nira said.

"I don't think this is as simple as it seems."

"What do you mean, Nira?"

"I don't know, Denzel, but I've been having disturbing premonitions."

"You're a banshee. Isn't that normal?"

"This feels rather different, Denzel," she said with a slight cautious edge to her tone.

"Besides these suspicions, they have been haunting me repeatedly. Disaster is about to strike, and I can feel it in my bones."

Denzel sighed. He carefully lowered Nira's head onto the bed and straightened up.

Someone knocked on the door.

"What is it?" Denzel hollered.

It was Ronald. Denzel went outside to meet him.

"My sincere apologies, Alpha. I can tell you're upset."

"No shit, Ronald," Denzel said.

"Alpha, we're not going to let this slide, are we?"

"Ah, come on, Ronald," Denzel said, placing his hand firmly on his shoulder.

"Look, Reid did this, okay? Now that we know that, we have to play it smart."

Ronald nodded sagely. He felt a new weight upon his shoulders being beta. His loyalty had always been to the pack and Denzel, and he had tried, with unrelenting zeal, to protect the pack's interest. But now that it was official, it felt slightly different. He felt like he needed to prove himself. Denzel looked at him and saw that.

"Relax, Ronald, it's only your first day."

Ronald nodded again. "Thank you, Alpha Denzel."

"You're the most competent person I know for the beta position. You're smart, loyal, and strong. And I'm happy to have you."

With that, Denzel patted his shoulder lightly and returned to the room to be with Nira.