The Alpha had a name.
Grim.
And when the Alpha spoke to me, it was as if the whole world shuddered, like his voice was never meant to be heard.
Like he was never meant to be.
A myth.
A legend.
A horror.
The sound was something primal. It was deep and resonant, like the groan of a mountain echoing through a cave. It felt like gravel and thunder wrapped into every syllable, but it was also smooth, like the waves of the sea and the gentle blow of the wind.
And it wasn’t loud because it didn’t need to be.
He was meant to be heard by all when he spoke. He was meant to be followed. And he was meant to be above all even in words.
Each word he said sank into my bones, slithering into my chest, allowing me to hear every letter and every breath.
It was the kind of voice that commanded
