MATED TO THE SECRET ALPHA
Chapter 193: Yaz

Chapter 193: Yaz

A warrior screamed as he was dragged over the edge, his armor crunching like a tin can in the creature’s jaws.

Arrows flew. Steel bit. The pulsing red blade in Yaz’s hand burst to life, humming with power. It sliced clean through a beast that lunged for Karl, the light momentarily blinding.

Then came the roar—low, guttural, ancient. It did not come from ahead. It came from below.

From under the bridge.

It had just stolen a warrior, but it seemed to be an appetizer.

The wooden bride trembled. The Ice on the surface of the bridge cracked. The flames flickered as the entire structure quaked. A giant claw, thick as a tree trunk and slick with river moss, slammed up through the boards, sending men and monsters flying.

The bridge was no longer a battleground.

It was a breaking point.

Yaz’s voice rang out again, hoarse but unyielding: "Hold fast! Brace the center—Karl, behind me!"

But Karl’s gaze was fixed downward. From the gaps in the broken planks, a second claw appeared—followed by a head. Pale as bone, crowned with antlers. Eyes like hollow pits.

Now, Karl saw with his own terror-stricken eyes what they’d been fighting in the dark.

His manhood shrank. But not before crying.

The creature rose.

"Skreeeeee!!" It shrilled through the planks. Its antlered head scraped against the iron-banded supports beneath the bridge.

A sickening, wet sound followed... like meat being pulled from bone, as it dragged its grotesque body up, inch by inch. Its limbs were too long. Utterly unimaginable. Jointed where they shouldn’t be. Covered in stretched, translucent skin that pulsed with dark veins like worms trapped in amber.

A stench rolled over the warriors... a mix of damp earth, ancient decay, and something else. Something that didn’t belong in this world.

Fear cracked their defense and chaos ensued.

A young warrior with a fresh scar across his face whimpered, eyes rolling back with terror at the sight of the new creature. His body shivered violently and then, bones popped, sinew tore, fur erupted from his skin. He shifted into his wolf form, sleek and gray. Another followed, then two more. Young ones. Inexperienced. Weak-minded. Overwhelmed by what they’d seen.

They turned—not toward the enemy, not toward their pairs, but away from them. Toward freedom. Towards the other end of the bridge... their initial destination.

"No!" Yaz bellowed, his voice cracking with desperation. "Stand your ground, dammit!" he couldn’t go after them. He had to kill this creature somehow, so he focused on it.

But the running wolves didn’t hear him. Or didn’t care. Their paws struck the bridge with frantic speed, leaping through the missing planks and broken parts, claws scraping and slipping on blood-slicked planks as they bolted toward the other side.

Toward ’safety.’

They made it away from the chaos, their hearts popped with excitement. With adrenaline.

They were safe.

They’ve made it.

Almost.

Suddenly, the air shifted. Something moved under the bridge—not lumbering like before, but quick. Predatory.

Then it struck.

A hand...no, a limb... inhumanly long and jointed like a spider’s, shot up through a gap between the planks. Fingers like reeds, tipped with nails long as swords, snatched the first wolf in mid-leap. There was no time to scream. No time to struggle.

One blink, he was there.

The next... he was gone.

Another limb whipped up, curling around two more wolves like a serpent. Their howls cut off mid-air as they were dragged screaming into the darkness beneath.

A wet crunch echoed upward.

Blood sprayed through the gaps, warm and metallic, speckling the faces of those still standing. One warrior fell to his knees, vomiting.

Panic detonated.

The shield wall shattered.

"No... no no no," Karl whimpered, clutching the edge of the broken cart, eyes wide as dinner plates. "We’re... we’re trapped. We’re trapped..." he cried.

Behind them was the snow mountain filled with crawling creatures that could spit fire. But when they climbed the bridge, the creatures had not chased them. They hung around the edge of the bridge, as if afraid to step on it.

Soon, as they moved further into the bridge, they were attacked by flying creatures. The fight was still containable and they made it close to the end of the bridge, only for these ungodly creatures to crawl out from beneath the bridge.

As Karl watched the horror, his brain short-circuited.

Screams rose like a tidal wave. Warriors scrambled, slipping in pools of blood, tripping over the dead. Shields were dropped. Bows discarded. Some shifted into wolf form mid-panic and cowered, tails tucked.

The merchant men – all werewolves, forgot their identity. Like spineless little girls, they sobbed and shrieked, clutching the stunned warriors for dear life.

Even the wind seemed afraid. It stilled, holding its breath.

Yaz stood like a statue in the center, his sword braced, his eyes hollow. Watching. Waiting.

The creature had not finished rising.

Its face... if it could be called that, appeared through the broken boards. No eyes. Just a smooth, pale expanse. But it looked at them. Every soul felt it, like invisible fingers sliding beneath their skin.

Then it smiled.

A mouth, impossibly wide, full of needle-teeth, stretched open slowly... then wider.

A sound came from within—not a roar, but a lullaby.

Soft. Sweet. Terrific.

Yaz’s sword dropped with a clang, embedding itself into the plank beneath his feet. The creature from earlier had either succumbed to its injuries, or had retreated because of fear for this new one.

The others turned, some confused, others terrified. As their commander, so long their anchor, their hammer, their shield. The man who’d given them courage until now, had let go of his weapon.

They were terrified.

Yaz, a warrior they didn’t know much of, even in the packhouse. He rarely participated in any activities unless fighting monsters. And he did it alone. Sometimes, with Zeta Marcus and a few others.

He was strong, powerful, they could tell from his aura. He was given a Gamma rank –even though he was an outsider who joined the pack three years ago, but he rejected it and chose to remain just a nameless warrior.

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