The Hybrid Alpha

Hey Guysss, I’m grateful that you will be reading my book. This is not the first book I’ve written but I am really really excited for this book. A werewolf story 😏

Fair warning.This book will include:

Abuse (Slight, in the FMC past)

Strong Language

Mature scenes

I do not own any of the images and also you can always picture the cast however you like although the way I picture them will be up on the chapters.

Other than that enjoy reading this book and please Vote, comment and share if you like! Thank you guys so much. Enjoyyyyyyyyyyyyy peeeeppssss. :)

UPDATEEEEE! THIS BOOK IS BEING RE-published- I used to write as an escape years ago and reading it again now - a little embarrassing- it was a fun hobby so don’t take it too seriously... but hope you guys like it😊

AUTHOR’S NOTE — PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING!

Before you dive into this story, I wanted to clarify something about the supernatural world you’re about to step into. The lore in this book is heavily inspired by some of my all-time favorite shows—The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, Teen wolf (true Alpha part) and Supernatural. That means you’ll find a blend of familiar supernatural rules and vibes:werewolves, hybrids, witches, cloaking spells, healing potions, powerful bloodlines, supernatural hierarchies, and magic that follows dark and ancient laws. If anything ever seems different from traditional werewolf books, it’s because this universe follows my own combined lore, shaped by those series. I realized I didn’t explain that clearly early on, so I hope this helps set the tone before you jump in!

Welcome to the world of hybrids, witches, and wolves—where power has a price, fate bites back, and nothing stays buried forever.

— Raven Winterfell

AESTHETICS ON MY WATTPAD PAGE! @raven_winterfell ;)

~CHAPTER ONE~

Kate Leodavin’s POV

“Tell me, how’s it feel sittin’ up there...

Feelin’ so high but too far away to hold me...”

I sing along under my breath, the melody echoing faintly around my apartment as I check myself one last time in the mirror. Grey tank top. High-waisted black skinnies. Nike jumper. White Converse. Not bad for someone about to be late again.

I sling my beige backpack over my shoulder and run a brush through my wavy brown hair, quick, practiced, almost ritualistic. Then I’m out the door and into my matte blue Audi R8. The engine purrs, then roars as I pull out, adrenaline kicking in. I already know what’s waiting for me: scoldings, eye-rolls, and probably a side lecture from the priest—well, from Ray. My boss. My friend. My pain in the ass.

The glass doors of the gallery lobby glide open, and I dart through like my life depends on it. The receptionist gives me her usual“you’re lucky you’re cute”smile as I sign in. I slip into the elevator right as it closes, heart still racing. Fourth floor, my second home: the Art Gallery. A place that always hums with life, creativity... and mild chaos.

The doors slide open, and I freeze. Everyone’s gone haywire.

Assistants dash around with clipboards, models pose in the wrong lighting, and photographers are barking at someone about angles. I dodge a trail of chaos and make a beeline for Ray’s office, heading up the short stairs.

And of course...I forget to knock.Perfect start, Kate. Really.

There she is, Ray Connor looking flawless as always. A white tank tucked into high-waisted black jeans, strapped heels, and a killer leather jacket that screams boss energy. Her shoulder-length brown hair frames her sharp face and those no-nonsense brown eyes.

She’s shaking hands with an assistant, a tall woman with slicked-back black hair and red square glasses perched on her nose. The assistant scowls when she sees me barge in, and I swallow the urge to fire something snarky back. Before I can even think of an excuse, another figure stands from the chair beside them.

And just like that, time stops.

Oh,fuck me.

He’s all sharp lines and impossible perfection. Tousled dark brown hair. Piercing hazel eyes. A jawline that looks like it could cut glass. The white V-neck shirt clings to him like it was made just for him, showing off biceps that seem way too real to exist outside a movie.Black joggers and high-tops. Effortless. Dangerous.

His gaze flicks over me slowly, like he’s analyzing every piece and lands right where my top rides up, revealing a sliver of skin. The smirk that curls on his lips could probably melt the arctic. My breath catches, traitorously.

Do it, my wolf, Ava, teases in the back of my mind.

I mentally roll my eyes. Not the time.

Still, I take his offered hand. Warm. Rough. Firm enough to make my pulse jump.

“Morning,” he says, voice low and smooth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Ray’s personal assistant,” I manage, keeping my tone steady even as his gaze lingers. There’s something behind those eyes, like he’s trying to read me.

And that’s when it hits me. He’s not just another werewolf.

You see, I’m a werewolf. A twin Alpha, actually—but with a twist.Ever since I turned eighteen, I’ve been running. Because ofhim.Staying with my twin, Kane (the Alpha of the Red Moon Pack) became too dangerous. Our shared scent made us easy to track. Together, we were a beacon.

But being cloaked has its perks. It hides my scent from other wolves. A few sprays of vanilla perfume mask what little slips through, letting me blend in with humans. The mark that seals my cloak sits on my right shoulder. A light feather surrounded by tiny birds. My brother’s is on his left. They’re mirror images. If the mark ever fades completely... it means one of us is in trouble.

The Greek god, wolf, whatever he is, tilts his head, smirk deepening. “We’ll see you tonight,” he says, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. I catch myself staring at his throat as he swallows, and I swear I see amusement flicker in his eyes before he turns and leaves, his assistant trailing behind.

The door closes. I exhale.

“What and who was that?” I hiss, spinning toward Ray.

She raises a brow, completely unbothered. “Look who’s suddenly interested. Don’t worry...you’ll find out tonight.”

And just like that, she’s back to her paperwork.

I stand there, brain short-circuiting. What’s happening tonight?

(Edited 19.10.25)