Page 3 of Cruel Alpha Beast (Roseville Alphas #1)

A light breeze blows against me, cooling the skin of my arms uncovered by my short-sleeved T-shirt. I stand on the outskirts of the village, staring out into the trees. My sneakers rest on a small patch of dirt worn down by my regular visits.

I’ve been drawn to this spot by the edge of the forest for years now, but I’m not entirely sure why. It’s like I’ve been waiting for something to happen, or even someone to walk through those trees. A savior, maybe.

Except I’m the alpha of this pack. If anyone’s going to be a savior, it’s me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I reach in and see that my alarm is going off.

A reminder that I have to get going. I press the button for it to stop and take one last look at the trees.

Through the shadows, I can see that everything within is calm and peaceful.

Whatever it is in there I’m looking for, at least I know it’s okay. For now, anyway.

I turn on my heel and head back down the path. Lining the way are the wildflowers that grow here. Once bright and colorful, they’ve become shriveled and black, and they’ve only gotten worse in the last year.

In the near distance, the crystal blue lake glitters in the sun, but I can’t deny that the surface looks much lower than it should be.

Has been for a while. If I carry on down its length, I’ll find one of the rivers branching off the lake—well, I’ll find a drying, cracked riverbed that’s lucky enough to have a trickle of water traveling through it.

The flowers were the first sign of something wrong here. The rivers are far more concerning. But worst of all, I’ve noticed a change in my people. We’ve always had a calm, idyllic life in this valley. However, tempers are starting to rise.

Instead of the easy-breezy town hall meetings with the other two packs that were once standard, people are now arguing over the most minor things.

I once had to break up a fight over the length of grass on someone’s neighbor’s lawn.

But sometimes, the arguments can get very personal, like people are pulling secrets out of thin air.

I’ve been an alpha for three years now. My father trained me well. I know what I’m doing. I can handle anything. I just hate to see my valley turning into this rotting, drying, angry shell of what it used to be.

Unfortunately, I still haven’t figured out how to fix everything.

That’s why I’m headed to the hall right now.

My meetings with Jasper and Ellis were once like those of our fathers—cold beers running down our throats, shooting the shit, maybe having a few conversations here and there about throwing potlucks and festivals, but nothing too serious.

Now, we’ve been meeting much more frequently, even inviting Greg along as an advisor to help us through.

Leaving nature behind, I find the streets of the valley waiting for me. The sun shines brightly on our infrastructure, and for one gleaming moment, it feels like everything isn’t falling apart around me.

“ Asshole , I said I saw that trash come out of your pocket , and you didn’t pick it up !”

“Fuck you, Bruce, I didn’t even have trash in my pocket!”

“Then what the fuck is this gum wrapper on the ground, Jerry?”

“ I don’t even chew gum, dumbass !”

“Well, you probably should start! Maybe your wife wouldn’t be coming onto me if your breath didn’t smell like shit !”

I turn my head and see two older men near my father’s age pushing each other’s shoulders as they argue on the other side of the street.

Bruce’s long, graying beard shakes in anger.

Jerry’s receding hairline reveals a throbbing vein in his forehead.

Things are going to get really bad if I don’t step in.

“Hey!” I call out, running across the street. “Both of you, calm down.”

But neither of the two men does. They merely keep pushing each other, and I fear their fists are going to come out soon.

“ Listen to me !” I hiss, coming to stand between them. “I will lock you both up in the hall’s basement if you don’t stop this bullshit right now.”

With my hands grasping the front of each of their shirts and my words sinking in, they both gradually calm down.

Bruce returns to his kinder self, spending his Friday afternoons reading to our small children in the library.

And Jerry, the kind of cook who says the secret ingredient in all of his dishes is love, looks down at his shoes.

“I don’t know what came over me,” he mumbles. “I do chew gum. I didn’t even know the gum wrapper fell from my pocket. I should have just picked it up when you told me.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Bruce says, swatting a hand. “I was a real dickhead about it. I should have been nicer.”

“Much better.” I sigh and let go of their shirts.

“Sorry, Sawyer,” Bruce murmurs. “Things got too heated between us. We didn’t handle this like we should have.”

I eye both of them carefully and step out from between them. “It’s fine. Just don’t let it happen again. Things have been tough, but we’ve gotta stick together.”

“It won’t happen again,” Jerry assures me. “I don’t like seeing that side of myself.”

“Me either.” Bruce shivers, then looks back at Jerry with guilt in his eyes. “And, uh, your wife isn’t coming onto me. I just said that to… Well, all I wanted to do was hurt your feelings for a second there.”

“My breath smells fine?” Jerry asks in a wounded voice.

Bruce pats his shoulder. “Your breath smells fine, buddy.”

Taking a deep breath, I carry on back toward the meeting hall. That’s the third argument I’ve had to break up in the last two weeks, and I don’t think it’s going to stop any time soon.

I find the hall seated directly between the three towns that make up our valley. The oldest building of all, it stands high, somewhat foreboding, even in times of peace. I open the front doors and step inside.

The lobby is dimly lit, but I can still see the framed photographs and portraits hanging on the walls. Old pictures of alphas in our valley’s history. A family tree of sorts, for Jasper, Ellis, and me. My father, my grandfather, and their fathers all stare back at me from the eastern wall.

There’s no denying it; I was groomed for this position my whole life. My father started preparing me for leadership before I could even confidently read, and I loved it. My father, Lucas, is my hero, and always has been.

Still, he never had to deal with any of the problems cropping up for me.

I find my great-grandfather’s picture, seeing his warm smile coming through the picture.

He was old for the short time I knew him, but that smile never faded.

I don’t remember much else of him, other than the fact that he gave the most loving hugs.

And he used to say this one line that has stuck with me ever since he died.

“When the willow is afire, wash it down with your desire.”

To this day, I’ve never figured out what that saying means. He promised to tell me one day. A week later, he died in his sleep. I’ve even asked my father, but he has no idea either. Our only clue lies in a faded tapestry hanging in the middle of the wall across from the front door.

I know I should turn right and climb the stairs up to our meeting room, but much like that one spot on the outskirts of town, my feet drag me to the tapestry. The pull is even stronger; I’ve felt it my whole life.

Sitting over a dark teal background is an image of a large willow tree with huge bulbs of orange fire illuminating its drooping branches, smoke pluming behind.

Beside the tree is a naked human woman with flowing dark hair.

Facing her, standing on its hind legs, is a brown wolf.

Behind both the woman and the wolf, a large wave of water crests toward the tree.

I remember asking my mother about the tapestry, but she always shielded my eyes from the images—looking back, she must have thought I was curious about the woman’s body, but her shapely figure never drew my attention until I started sprouting hair under my arms.

My father was equally unhelpful. And the older I got, the more he would sigh and tell me that my great-grandfather must have been losing his mind.

The saying was just the ramblings of a senile old man.

I have my doubts about that, though. I just think my dad is embarrassed that he has no idea what his grandfather was talking about in the first place.

I take in the tapestry’s details for just a moment longer, waiting until I hear another buzz from my phone. I glance down at the screen and find a text from Jasper, asking me what’s taking so long. Typing quickly, I say I’ll be right up and leave the tapestry in my wake.

The stairway smells as musty as ever, but it’s never felt like a priority to fix. It’s always fallen on the wayside— “We can deal with that later. Let’s just have another beer.” The fluorescent lights above flicker every twenty seconds, another chore that has yet to be completed.

With everything going on in the valley, it feels like we’ll never have time to fix this dingy room.

I push open the door that leads to a long hallway.

Many rooms lie abandoned; once areas where betas would train, and where omegas would compile or research old forgotten histories.

Now, the only room whose lights regularly turn on is the large, expansive one that takes up half of the floor.

I step through the open doors and find Jasper kicking his feet up on the long meeting table.

A few seats down from him, Ellis cleans the dirt from under his fingernails with a multipurpose knife.

But the person who draws my attention the most is my oldest and best friend, Greg. Just one glance, and I can tell that something is very long. His black hair is long overdue for a cut, hanging low over his forehead. Honestly, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

I’ve known him my whole life—we’ve been like brothers since we first met at the playground by the school.

He’s been at my side every day, laughing with me, giving me the best advice I’ve ever gotten, even consoling me when the pressure my father laid upon me felt like it was too tough.

I’m a better man because of him; a better alpha, even.

So, seeing him like this, it hurts my soul.

It’s only happened once before, this despondence. Five years ago, when his sister fled into the woods, never to be seen again.

Gulping down the lump in my throat, I approach Greg in his chair and reach down to clamp my hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t look up, but I can feel him tensing under my grip. He exhales sharply through his nose before I can ask what’s wrong.

“Things are getting bad, Sawyer,” he croaks.

“I know.” I sigh, releasing his shoulder and putting my hands on my hips. “I just broke up a fight between Bruce and Jerry over litter.”

“I can’t think of something worth fighting over more,” Jasper says with a grin.

“They almost killed each other over a gum wrapper,” I point out in a deadly tone. “It would’ve gotten really ugly if I hadn’t walked by at the right time.”

“It’s getting worse,” Greg continues, finally looking at me. “I think we need to get serious about this.”

“We are serious,” Ellis adds. “What else have we been talking about for a year?”

“And we’ve had no results,” Greg snaps at him uncharacteristically. “We’ve done nothing.”

“What do you think we should do, then?” I ask him. “I’m all ears.”

Greg shrugs. “Maybe we should consider seeking outside help.”

“Like from who?” I cock my head to the side. “Who could possibly help us?”

Just then, the floor in the hallway creaks. I whip around to see two figures in the doorway. One, a small girl with chestnut brown hair, the other, a young woman I didn’t think I’d ever see again in my life.

My mouth grows as dry as the rivers in our town as I gaze upon her. Still well-rounded, still stunningly beautiful with her sleek, elbow-length black hair.

“Lacey?”