Asher and the Alpha stood face to face.
The creature was towering, twisted muscle and shadow, its breath steaming in the cold air. Any normal person would've been shaking. Even veteran hunters would've backed away.
But Asher felt no fear.
Only rage.
"You fucking dog…" he said—except his voice didn't sound like his. It was deeper. Sharper. Commanding.
His eyes burned like molten embers.
"You're irritating me a lot, you know that, you lowly creature."
The Alpha's lips curled back, as if amused by the audacity.
Then it roared—loud enough to rattle the lockers—and lunged.
"You dare attack me?" Asher snarled.
The Alpha's claws slashed toward his face. Asher tilted his head just a fraction to the side—effortless, almost bored—and the claws cut nothing but air.
Asher's fist shot forward.
THUD.
His punch sank into the Alpha's abdomen with brutal force, sending the monster stumbling back several steps.
The Alpha froze.
Its expression wasn't a snarl anymore.
Not amusement.
Not even anger.
It was shock.
Asher stepped toward him, calm and furious at once.
"You really thought you could touch me with those filthy hands?" he said. Every word dripped superiority. As if a king were addressing a stray mutt who dared bark at him.
His eyes brightened—no, ignited.
The Alpha roared again, louder this time, furious and unsure, then launched forward in a blur of claws and teeth—
And Asher moved to meet him head-on.
The Alpha lunged again.
And again.
Claws sliced through the air—each strike fast enough to tear a locker door in half—but Asher slipped past every one, his movements smooth, instinctive, unnaturally natural.
He felt nothing—not fear, not doubt. Only a cold, effortless certainty.
He was born for this.
He dodged another swipe, chin tilted arrogantly.
"Come on," he said, voice dripping disdain. "And you call yourself an Alpha?"
The Alpha snarled.
"Even my neighbor's cat is faster than you," Asher added, cocking his head.
The creature's roar shook the room.
Asher only smiled. A cruel, mocking curve of his lips.
"You're so cute."
The Alpha lunged, enraged—
And Asher moved to dodge like before—
—but something snapped.
A flicker.
A gap.
"What—?"
The Alpha's claws slammed into him full-force.
Asher flew across the cafeteria, crashing against the far wall. Pain exploded through his spine, and he hit the ground hard, coughing blood.
"What's… happening…?" His thoughts were sluggish, confused. "A second ago… Erica… she was having a seizure… but now… what…?"
The arrogance was gone.
The fire in his eyes dimmed.
The Alpha barreled toward him, faster than Asher could track. He barely got to his knees before the beast was on him again—
Too fast.
Too strong.
Too real.
"Asher!"
The voice cut through the chaos.
Scott stood in the doorway, breathless, terrified.
The Alpha froze.
"Asher…" Scott whispered, seeing the blood—the wounds left from Erica had reopened.
The Alpha turned its head toward Scott, predatory eyes narrowing.
And then—
SIRENS.
Dozens of them.
Echoing through the parking lot.
Growing louder.
Police.
The Alpha glanced between Scott and Asher—its expression almost human for a second.
A silent message:
This isn't over.
Then it spun and vanished into the shadows, slipping out a shattered window just as flashlights began cutting through the night.
Scott rushed to Asher's side.
"Asher—hey—stay with me, man!"
But Asher's vision was already dimming, his breath shallow.
The last thing he heard was the distant echo of police radios…
…and Scott calling his name.
...
A faint, rhythmic beeping was the first thing he heard.
Then the soft hiss of machines.
Then the dull, throbbing ache inside his skull.
Asher groaned.
The hospital? Again? Oh… I hate hospitals so much…
He forced his eyes open. The lights stabbed his head like needles, but the room slowly came into focus.
Scott and Stiles were in the corner, whispering anxiously with Melissa McCall.
Melissa was the first to notice.
"Oh—Asher, you're awake." She moved to him immediately, gently adjusting the bed and helping him sit up.
Asher braced himself with one hand, the other pressed to his temple. His body didn't feel too bad—no stabbing pains, no broken bones screaming at him—but his head…
His head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.
He sucked in slow, controlled breaths, trying to steady himself.
Scott and Stiles hurried over.
"You boys," Melissa sighed with that tired, worried-mom tone she had perfected over the years, "always getting yourselves into trouble. At this rate, one of you is going to end up very badly."
"Yeah, we know…" Scott and Stiles muttered in unison.
Then Scott added, softer, "…I'm sorry, Mom."
Melissa gave him the look only a mother can give—equal parts frustration, concern, and relief that he was still alive.
Asher blinked, still trying to piece things together. "What… happened..."
Stiles crossed his arms, leaning in closer with that classic I-need-answers-or-I'll-combust expression.
"Yeah… what happened yesterday?" he asked, eyes wide. "Come on, dude—how did you manage to stall the Alpha that long?"
Asher exhaled, staring at the blanket over his legs.
"I don't know…" he said quietly.
Stiles blinked. "What do you mean you don't know?"
"I'm serious." Asher rubbed his temples, trying to push back the pounding ache. "After Erica started having the seizure… something happened. My mind just—"
He searched for the right words.
"—went away."
Stiles frowned. "Away where? What does that even mean?"
"It was like a blackout," Asher said. "Like… I wasn't there anymore. Like someone kicked me out of my own body."
Scott stiffened, remembering the way Asher's eyes had burned—like they weren't human. Not even close.
"You don't remember anything?" Scott asked softly.
Asher shook his head. "Just… flashes. Anger. Heat. Everything felt… wrong. Or maybe too right. I don't know. Then I woke up flying across the room."
To be continued...
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Sorry if it wasn't the best of quality, but I was quite sleepy while I wrote it, so...