Alpha Ferguson woke up with a start, his hairy chest heaving like the push and pull of the tides. He breathed heavily, his body drenched with sweat.

“Not again,” his low voice grumbled as his eyes strayed to the wall clock hanging at the corner of the room.

3:15 A.M. The shiny numbers glowed in the middle of the gold, metallic frame of the clock.

He exhaled deeply as he got up from his king-sized bed, making for the balcony. His bedroom was well over two stories. A door led out of it to the balcony, from where he could get a good view of his territory.

His eyes fluttered close as he took a deep breath, taking in the night breeze into his lungs—the breeze that blew gently onto his face, making his long white hair sway in it. His arms held on tightly onto the railings of the balcony as he stared into the sky, revelling in the quietness the dark night offered.

“Aaaarrrgh,” the scream came in the distance.

Ferguson's eyes glowed a bright, ruby-red colour as his wolf stirred restlessly inside him—the famed red glow that was specific to Alphas; the glow that sent the pack trembling and their legs wobbling whenever he showed it.

The rails groaned softly as his hands tightened around them, panting low and heavy as he listened.

The pattering of running feet filtered into his sharp ears from a distance. A fierce hunting growl, a scream and everything went quiet. His long white hair bobbed sideways gently as he shook his head, retreating his fangs and claws as he walked back into his room. The bed groaned as his heavy frame fell back on it.

“I don't think I can do this anymore.”

*****

“Good morning father,” Luca peeked into the study through the crack provided by the open door. His hand lingered on the doorframe.

Alpha Ferguson's eyes glinted as he looked up at him, his lips curled up like he'd been talking and Luca had interrupted.

“Zonda,” Luca greeted the wizard who was sprawled on the chair across the table facing his father, stroking his beard.

“Luca,” he nodded returning the greeting.

Ferguson only met with quite a few people in his study—people he trusted—on matters he deemed confidential and Luca knew this.

He knew he had interrupted something. He withdrew his head, making to close the door when the deep lines on his father's creased face caught his attention. His fingers rapped the table gently, something he only did when he had something on his mind.

“Can I get you anything?” Luca asked, his hands holding onto the doorstead as he leaned back into the room.

“How about a mate?” Ferguson replied without raising his head, the sarcasm heavy in his voice.

“Sorry I asked,” Luca scoffed, banging the door behind him. He muttered something about having to train with Elisha anyway.

Zonda's lips curled up into a smile at the little back-and-forth between Ferguson and Luca. He knew the bond between father and son was strong, despite Ferguson's inclination to play strict dad and Luca's hotheadedness.

“So for how long have you been having this dream?” Zonda resumed his interview with the alpha.

“About three months now.”

“Three months?” Zonda's eyebrows furrowed.

Ferguson's eyes darkened as he stared at Zonda, a low growl building up in his throat. He didn't like being questioned unnecessarily. ‘Stupid questions’ he called them.

Zonda caught Ferguson's cold eyes and looked away immediately.

“I've been having the dreams at intervals within these times. Not every night,” Ferguson replied, his voice calm. He had noticed Zonda's fidgetiness and tried to ease the tension that hung over the room like gloom. After all, his well being depended on this wizard's expertise.

“And when was the last time you had this dream?” Zonda croaked choosing his words carefully.

“Last night.”

“And before then?”

“Three days ago. The one of last night was more detailed and seemed real. Like I was in it but only as an observer.”

“Did you see the girl's face?” Zonda probed further.

“No, just her back,” Ferguson replied, his fingers still rapping the table. “And she faded away in a flash.”

A drop of sweat dripped from his brows and onto the table. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

Zonda's face creased, a faraway look in his eyes as he ran his hands through his beards. He had never seen Ferguson this way since he became Alpha.

“I'll figure something out,” he grunted pushing the chair back and getting up to his feet. “Tell me when next you have this dream, Alpha.”

The omegas in the hallway bowed as Ferguson walked out with Zonda, his steps a slow, deliberate, majestic stride. The pack guards at the entrance of the house saluted their Alpha as he walked out but he ignored them, his gaze focused at the gate.

“What's going on?” he asked the guard who hurried to meet him.

“We found a dead wolf on our patrol this morning.”

“Who was it?” Ferguson asked, passing his right hand through his hair.

“We're not so sure, but it might be an omega. I don't think he's one of ours.”

“Confirm and get back to me,” the Alpha ordered.

The guard’s feet scraped against the floor as he walked away the same way he had come—hurriedly.

“Strange things have been happening recently, my lord,” Zonda said turning to face Ferguson, “and I don't think they're coincidences. I feel they're all connected somehow.”

“I couldn't agree more,” he nodded. “Where did Luca say he was going again?”

“To train.”

“Son of a gun,” Ferguson muttered under his breath.

“The apple does not fall far from the tree,” Zonda chipped in. “I'll be leaving now,” he bowed to the Alpha.

The metallic gates screeched as the sentry opened them. Zonda strolled through jauntily, whistling a tune.

The pack house was a bit secluded, with trees and shrubbery surrounding it. There was just one way in and out—Ferguson had made sure of it for security reasons—and it was this road that Zonda threaded as he left, his lips pouted as he whistled.

A shuffle behind some shrubbery stopped him dead in his tracks. His eyes darted around, his body stiff like a deer caught in headlights.

“SHOW YOURSELF!”

Silence.

Even the trees seemed to freeze in time.

His eyes flicked around once more. Still nothing.

“Probably a squirrel or something,” he sighed.

The faint tune of Zonda's whistling faded away as he pushed through the door into his room. His eyes roved around like a kite stalking a prey. He made for the shelf, pulling out a red book with intricate gold designs on the letterings.

“The Alpha's dreams can't be just that,” he muttered, swiping through the pages of the book. “They have to mean something.”

He sighed again.

“What could it be?”

He paced about the room, his feet shuffling across the well-polished, hard, marble floor.

He grabbed an apple from the fruit basket at the corner of the table and bit into it with a crunch humming a tune.

The tune caught in his throat. An itchy, crawling feeling passed under his skin. He coughed. His hands clawed against his neck as a burning sensation grazed his throat. His mouth felt dry like the sands of a parched desert.

“Wha… What's this? What's happening?”

His knees wobbled, shaking terribly under his weight. He braced himself against the table to steady himself, but his legs gave in.

The room swirled as he crashed to the ground, the half-eaten apple rolling from his hand into a corner.

"Sleep, Zonda, sleep,” a soft feminine voice whispered. And she laughed. Gently.

Zonda groaned like an injured pup as he lay on the floor, his insides twisting and churning like a witch’s brew. He gritted his teeth, his eyes glazed.

"Oh, the mighty Zonda has fallen,” the voice laughed again the mock heavy in her voice.

Zonda recognized it. He knew that voice. He could recognize it anywhere. He willed himself to open his eyes.

“Orchid?” he whispered hoarsely.