Beneath the Alpha’s Nose, Chapter 8

“All hands on deck! Arm yourselves!”

It’s almost instant—the crew jolts awake, grabbing anything sharp and bracing themselves at the rails. One grim-faced sailor pushes a wicked looking knife into my palm. He doesn’t bother asking questions, and why would he? I’d sounded the alarm.

“Watch the water,” the captain orders, drawing his cutlass. In the moonlight, the blade gleams, cold and dull. “They’ll come from all sides. Try to board, if they can.”

I wedge myself at the starboard rail, knuckles tight on the blade, scanning the black water. For a second, nothing. Just the hush between heartbeats and the creak of the ship. The air goes strange. Too still for sea wind, too sharp for calm. Every sound tastes wrong. My wolf strains against the bindings, whispering what my ears won’t translate yet. There’s blood coming. Always is, when the world gets this quiet.

One of the sailor’s arms shoots out, voice rough with warning. “There!”

I see it: a pale blur swimming just under the surface. Another. Then more; three, five, at least a dozen, moving with purpose. A hunting pod.

The first impact slams into the hull. The deck shudders; it rattles my teeth. Pale hands stretch out and clamp onto the railing, not far away, and then a face pulls up behind them—a face that shouldn’t exist. It’s half-human, half-shark, skin slick and gray, black-eyed, jaw lined with serrated teeth. Gills shudder at its throat as it climbs, all muscle and grotesque strength.

More of them follow. They swarm up the sides of the ship faster than I’d believe possible. The crew breaks, metal on flesh, but the monsters are relentless. One sailor shrieks a noise that’s cut off by teeth at his throat. Another stumbles straight into waiting arms and just disappears, gone with a wet crunch.

I don’t realize I’m cornered until the biggest of them lurches toward me. Bloodlust practically pours off of it. I can taste it, sharp and raw, filling my lungs.

That’s all it takes. The shift claws up from my core, heat rushing along every nerve. I try to hold it back. Years of warnings echo: Never change, not here. Never let them know. The bindings squeeze until it hurts, an iron knot in my chest.

The thing lunges. Teeth dig into my shoulder. Blood gushes fresh and hot down my arm.

Pain snaps everything wide open, finding the wolf faster than thought. She comes roaring up through me, no permission asked. It should scare me, but it doesn’t—not this time. The girl hides. The wolf answers.

The sound that bursts from my throat starts human, then splits into a wolf’s snarl. My bones splinter and melt, ribs cracking under pressure, muscles stretching. The fabric tries to hold but stands no chance. Threads pop and fur erupts along my arms and jaw, my face lengthening into a muzzle thick with rage.

Its eyes widen, realization lagging behind fact.

I don’t wait. I hit with everything I am, jaws clamping down on its throat, grinding through cartilage and windpipe. Blood floods my mouth, metallic and hot. It thrashes, then goes limp, and I toss it away, turning to the chaos still alive on deck.

The scene is hell: sailors bleeding, some fighting, some just shaking and backing away. I spot the captain near the helm, fending off two at once, cutlass flashing in the air.

I don’t hesitate. I’m smaller than a male wolf, but still more massive than a true wolf—a shadow above the men. The knife is gone; I don’t need it. My teeth and claws are stronger. I knock one off a crewman’s back, rip its belly open before it can react. Another tries to dart in, but I bite its face before it reaches me.

It’s slow work. But bit by bit, the momentum shifts.

Confusion spreads through the creatures. We should be easy prey. Instead, something worse than them lives here. I can feel their fear, colder than the hunger. They scramble for the rails, vanishing into black water one after another, barely a sound as they’re swallowed whole.

Then, just silence. The heavy, ringing kind. Only the dying groan and the deck creaks under my weight. I stand panting in the blood and brine, surrounded by stares. The faces are all twisted with fear, relief, maybe even hatred.

The deck reeks of iron and salt—fear layered on fear. They look at me like I’m one of the monsters crawling from the deep, and maybe they’re right. What’s the difference, really, between saving and killing when the same blood sings for both?

The captain steps forward, cutlass still raised. When he looks at me, it’s sharp with recognition. “So,” he says flatly, “not just a stowaway. A wolf in disguise.” His gaze flicks over my hulking form. “Explains why you picked my ship to hide on. But you couldn’t wait a few days for the next passenger ship?”

I tense, muscles locked. I can’t change back right now—not in front of them, not like this. And definitely not with my secret hanging over us all. I take a step back into shadow, hackles high.

The captain lifts a hand. “Let him go,” he calls out. “That… wolf saved our lives.” He manages a thin, humorless smile. “Wolf or not, boy, you’re going to explain yourself. Later.”

Some of the tension breaks. For tonight, at least, I’m safe. But the captain’s mercy smells like calculation. Recognition, not trust. I’ve seen that look before—wolves sizing up whether an ally or a weapon stands before them. I’ve just proven I can be both.

I nod once, then take off down the stairs, paws clattering.

I slip into an empty storeroom and paw at the door to shut myself in, heart pounding so hard it drowns out everything else. The wolf in me snarls for another fight, but I force it down, folding myself back into human form.

My body remembers better than my mind how to undo power. It hates doing it. Every bone argues the way my spirit does: stay the beast, stay alive. Flesh wins over fur, but it feels like losing.

When I finally hit the floor, I’m naked, shaking, coated in blood—some of it mine, most of it not. My shoulder still leaks where I was bitten, but it’s already closing. Just slow, this time.

There’s a knock at the door. I lurch upright.

“Boy? You in there?” The voice is low and gravelly.

“Yes,” I manage, trying not to sound too raw. “Don’t come in.”

“Captain says food for you, says you earned it. And he wants you to report to him.” He pauses for my response.

“Understood,” I force out. “Can you leave the food out there?”

The sound of a metal tray being laid on the wooden floor planks is the only reply. Then I listen for the footsteps to go quiet, fading up the stairs.

I let myself collapse, dizzy from relief. I need clothes, fast.

There’s a chest in the corner. I rummage through it, come up with a shirt big enough to drown me and trousers that only stay up with a belt I fashion from some loose rope. I tear a strip from the shirt’s hem and tie it over my chest, hoping it holds, even if it’s a sorry excuse for proper bindings.

I take a breath. And another, slower. Try to center myself. I adjust the shirt, set my stance. As close to “boy” as I can pull off.

The captain is waiting.

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This series has been picked up by Dreame. Continue reading here.