The Alpha's Enigma

Lycanthropology Part 1 Section 1:

A wolf can never change his Rank. A Dominant wolf remains a Dominant for life.

~°~

I needed to find Cyrus Landon. But there was one problem, I didn’t know where he is and what he looked like.

I held my camera up to my eye. The cool, familiar weight of my black Nikon D300 felt expensive, even in my hands. Peering through the viewfinder, I adjusted myself in my seat, focusing on the figure by the edge of the Olympic swimming pool.

The swimmer stood on an elevated platform in a pair of forest-green trunks and nothing else. He placed his hands on his hips, rolling his shoulders and neck as if methodically unravelling tension from his joints. Even though he was half-naked, he still exuded a sense of confidence.

The toned expanse of his broad back tapered to a lean waist, revealing subtle dimples above his hips before disappearing into the waistband of his shorts.

Click!

I sat near the back of the bleachers, blending into the sparse crowd. My presence wasn’t unusual; plenty of other wolves carried cameras as they captured numerous shots of the swimming team and their coach. However, unlike them, I had an agenda of my own.

A woman wrapped her arm around my target’s shoulders and laughed with a wide grin. Her medium-length dreadlocks swooped to one side of her head with a faded side-cut. Her physique was layered with toned muscles that spoke about years of disciplined workouts. As she spoke, her voice was completely sweet and soft.

Definitely not the person I was looking for.

I redirected my focus to my original target, narrowing the frame until his face filled my viewfinder. Every detail came into sharp relief: the intensity in his emerald eyes, the confident smirk tugging at his lips.

Click.

Satisfied with the picture, I sat back and pressed the playback button. The screen lit up, displaying an earlier photo of a colleague scarfing down a burger in the cafeteria. His shoulders were hunched over the table as he dived into his food. I swiped to another; two wolves faced each other in a show of strength. One was clearly trying to provoke a fight.

I kept scrolling through the sea of images, each having one thing in common: wide shoulders, tapered waist, muscles, height, and something deeper, a personality trait I couldn’t ignore; arrogance. Potential assholes made the cut.

I was looking for alphas that matched Cyrus’ description.

My lips curled into a satisfied smile, the kind you wear when you’ve found exactly what you’re looking for. I stopped on the image of the swimmer. The picture was perfect, almost regal. His posture, the slight smirk, and the way he commanded attention even in candid stillness screamed dominance.

I was so engrossed in my work that I didn’t notice the shadow looming behind me until it spoke.

“What are you smiling at?”

The low voice sent a jolt through me. I whipped around to find him standing there.Him; the swimmer. Up close, he was even more imposing and way taller than I imagined. Damp blonde hair clung to his scalp as droplets trailed down his bare chest.

A tattoo of two phoenixes clawing at each other was inked across the centre of his chest. And for a second, I could have sworn one of them winked at me.

My grip tightened instinctively on my camera.

“Care to share?” His voice was calm, almost teasing, but there was an odd weight to it. I swallowed, my throat working on overdrive. Before I could stammer out a reply, his eyes snapped to the camera in my hands. “I asked you a question, little stranger.”

Panic clawed at my chest. I had no intention of letting him see the pictures.

“I... I have to go,” I muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the exit. I stood up and headed straight for the back exit, desperate to escape, but I didn’t make it far. There was a sudden tug on the camera strap, yanking the device from my grasp. I panicked as I turned to the asshole who now held my expensive baby in his hands, inspecting it.

“Do you stalk people?” His voice had taken on a darker, more menacing tone. His emerald eyes glinted with a mix of curiosity and mischief.

I tried to grab it back, but he was faster, holding it just out of reach. He smirked at my futile attempts, clearly enjoying this. I struggled against his body, trying to shove him or make him trip so he could lose his hold against the evidence that could very much make me embarrassed for the rest of my life.

His laugh was cruel as he held my camera way above my head. “You take pictures of guys you’re into? Are you horny, little stranger? Or is this some kinky obsession?”

I grunted in frustration before stepping back, accepting defeat. My mind churned with what to do.

I cleared my throat. “What’s your... rank? Maybe I can compensate you.”

At the question, his smile turned deadly serious. “It’s rude to ask people that question.”

I bit my lip, eyes glancing away as the gears in my head spurred on like a racing machine. I tried to remember what I had learned at the library the night before. A person with a high tendency to get into fights, mild anger issues, height, muscle, and a domineering asshole personality. My heart sank.

He is definitely a Dominant.

I cursed. Code red. Being around a dominant Lycan is a Code red.

The sound of cracked glass resonated within our tight space and I panicked as my eyes turned to the camera in his hands. His claws were biting into the LCD screen, forcing it to the brink of shattering.

“Wait! I wasn’t stalking, okay? I was looking for someone!”

He paused never expecting that reaction. Feeling embarrassed, I cast a quick glance around. The stadium was almost empty except for a few swimmers by the swimming pool. They moved about casually, clearly oblivious to my momentary outburst.

They didn’t hear me.

The asshole cleared his throat, his expression now serious. “Who are you looking for?”

I swallowed, feeling my heartbeat in my chest. My hands grew clammy as I clenched and unclenched them. “Landon. His surname is Landon.”

If anything, the man’s frown grew deeper. He stepped forward, making me take a step back. He leaned down, our noses nearly touching. “Wishing to see Cyrus Landon is a death sentence. Anyone who wishes to see him wants to challenge him, fuck him, or change their sub-rank. All three are very unpleasant.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. Change sub-rank? Was that even possible?

I tried to remember all the conversations I had eavesdropped on, every piece of information I had gathered since I transferred into the institute two days ago. None of them had ever mentioned the possibility of changing Sub-rank.

In the Lycan world, sub-ranks are divided into three categories: Alpha, Beta, and Omega, while ranks are classified into two types: dominant and recessive. As far as I know, these cannot be altered.

My throat tightened as I struggled to find a plausible explanation. “I certainly don’t want to challenge him.”

I had done some digging on Cyrus, and from what I’d gathered, he had confronted a third-year alpha within his first few weeks as a freshman and won. Since then, he’d taken on every opposition thrown his way, emerging victorious each time. Now in his second year, going up against him was nothing short of suicidal.

“If you do not want to challenge him, you either want to fuck him or change sub-ranks.” The swimmer continued.

I nodded, then stuttered, trying to clarify. “Not the fucking. I want to change my sub-rank.”

It was the only excuse I could go for. I eyed the camera in his hands. The LCD screen was breaking with every second, and it wouldn’t be long until it shattered completely.

“So, you’re a beta.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.

What led him to that conclusion?

In an instant, his hand shot forward. His fingers grabbed the neck of my sweater with alarming precision. Before I could react, he pulled my face closer, the heat of his breath brushing against my jawline. The proximity sent a chill down my spine, every instinct screaming at me to move, but I was rooted to the spot, paralysed by his presence.

His nose brushed against my skin as he inhaled deeply, his chest rising with the effort. I stiffened, panic flooding my veins as I silently prayed that the pill, I had taken earlier was still effective. He sniffed again, this time longer and more deliberate, as though searching for something hidden beneath my skin. His expression contorted into a grimace before releasing me with a light shove.

I collapsed against the wall. The world spun as I tried to steady myself.

“A subtle scent.” He snarled. “Beta.”

I felt my hands tremble, knowing I was this close to accidentally revealing my identity. Nevertheless, being a beta in this institute wasn’t really... thrilling. I slipped to the floor, my legs already giving out on me.

He watched with a straight look that depicted, he had lost interest in my little shenanigans. “Wanting to change sub-ranks means you wish to be exposed to pheromones. And if it’s Cyrus, asking for his pheromones can lead to so many different things in so many different ways. Dominants can’t change their identities. It is permanent. That makes you a recessive.”

I didn’t care about his attempts to narrow down my inherited biology. Right now, only one thing matters. “Do you know where Cyrus is?”

Getting exposed to pheromones was the last thing I wanted. It was another thing I would classify easily as a code red. All I cared about was wrapping this up, reclaiming my camera, and tracking down the rumoured schmuck.

The swimmer sat on his heels, elbows to his knees and kept talking, rambling on as though I were paying attention. “For a second, I thought you were an omega planning to claim me. If that were true, you wouldn’t be the first nor the last to try and fail.

“Either way, there is nothing wrong with being a recessive beta, no matter how unfortunate it is. Because I hate wolves who always come to me for power, never satisfied with who they are. ”

Without any warning, he crushed my camera in his hands.

“No!” I cried out in alarm.

I helplessly watched the shards of my prized possession cascade to the ground. The metallic glint of the shattered lens caught the light.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze, my breath hitching as I met the sight that chilled me to the core. Two pairs of blood-streaked eyes stared back at me. They burned with a cold oppressive intensity, predatory and unyielding as if stripping away every defence I’d ever built. Time seemed to slow, and in that moment, I knew I was staring into something far more dangerous than I’d ever prepared for.

It took a second for his last statement to sink in. “Wait, you’re--”

“Cyrus!” The sharp voice of the swim coach cut through the tension as he stepped through the exit door, his gaze locking onto us immediately. His eyes flicked between me and my acquaintance, pupils narrowing with suspicion. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing, sir,” The asshole, who I had come to realize was the rumoured Cyrus Landon, stretched to his full height. His tone was casual, as if the haughty confrontation we had moments ago hadn’t happened.

The coach lingered for a moment, clearly debating whether to push further, but then he let it go with a slight shake of his head. “Follow me. The director wants to see you...both of you.”

Both of us? A pit formed in my stomach. That can’t be good.

Swallowing hard, I nodded stiffly before pulling myself to my feet. I avoided Cyrus’ hard gaze and started towards the exit. My legs were shaky, but I was determined to get out of this suffocating space.

The coach strode ahead without waiting for a response. As soon as his back was turned, a hand shot out, gripping the back of my neck with an unsettling ease. It was delicate but surprisingly firm.

Cyrus’ fingers caressed my skin in a way that made every hair on my body stand on end. He leaned in close, his breath warm and slow against my cheek. His scent was sharp and overwhelming, cutting through the air like a knife.

“Nice meeting you, little stalker,” he murmured, his voice low and dripping with disdain.

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