The Ruthless Luna Of Alpha Clyde

No one knew better than Emma Watson that the Formonix warehouse sheltered secrets about her parent’s gruesome murder. She believed that some truth lingered within the walls of the organization. However, the only problem was that no one else believed her. For some strange reason, everyone urged her to drop the case and bury her nose in another one.

‘These are people you don’t want to mess with.’ Her boss would say every time she discovered a clue leading back to the warehouse.

‘They are dangerous people, Emma, even the government knows not to mess with them.’ Her partner had warned her. Why was everyone trying to get her to drop the case?

Eleven years ago, her parents were murdered mysteriously. Their killer had taken her world and twisted it into a sad version of what it had once been. She was just a little girl, with a shattered heart.

She didn’t remember a time in her life without grief. She couldn’t recall a life where she went shopping with her mum or dressed up for Halloween. She had known a life of pain, sadness, and loneliness. She remembered a life that was either brutally depressing or hard. She had never experienced a life of safety or security, never experienced a life she wasn’t scared of uncertainties or suffering the fate of her parents. As a child, she struggled to deal with her emotions, but as an adult, she learned to survive and fight back.

Everything that happened on the night of her parent’s murder led to whom she had eventually become. A detective. She wasn’t going to drop the case. No. She was going to find the people who stopped her from smiling even before she had a chance to. She had grand plans for them, they would hate it, but it was the only way she could find peace. Nobody was going to stop her, especially when she was so close to the truth. So close.

Which was a very strong reason she was lying-belly down in the dust and shadow of a stand of trees, watching as people moved in and out of the heavily guarded warehouse.

Emma had no fear of infiltrating into the building; she had ensured to disguise as one of the workers, and days of working on her clothing and accent had made her into a fair imitation of the fierce-looking people who had populated the warehouse and its surrounding organizations.

Her overall matched theirs exactly. She had ensured to bleach the material, and the result was a plain gray old-looking baggy overall, which hung loosely on her body. She had worn a pair of unfashionable black boots, which were stuffed with stockings to fit her size. Black gloves covered her tiny feminine hands, and she wore no makeup. She had let her hair down carelessly, masking any significant feature that would give her away.

Emma believed it was the perfect appearance and her plans were solid enough. Also, it was dark. The perfect time to sneak up on your enemies.

If she didn’t want to be seen, she wouldn’t- besides, she had all the expertise of a great detective. She was capable of protecting herself.

Yet, the repeated warnings she had received concerning her investigation echoed in her mind.

‘They are not to be messed with…’

Those words were enough to send a cold chill of terror down Emma’s spine. She shuddered, swallowing heavily, and repeatedly, as she tried to shake the thoughts out of her mind.

Her boss was only trying to force her to drop the case. Nothing more. At least, that was what she told herself. As long as she wanted to discover the truth about her parent's mysterious death, she would remain strong through it. She would have to listen to nobody but herself because nobody was willing to dig up the past with her.

There was a ripple of movement among the men who guarded the warehouse. Emma realized that the gate had been opened and the workers from the last shift were pouring out. That was her cue.

She made her way through the crammed group of people heading into the warehouse, staring unblinkingly at the large number of people who were working at such a late hour. If there weren’t walking on two legs, Emma would have sworn they were not humans.

She glanced over at the man walking beside her. He was enormous, they all were. She held her gaze for a moment; uncertainty filled her brown eyes. She hadn’t realized how many flaws were in her plans. She was convincingly smaller and different from the people pouring into the warehouse. And somehow, she thought they were faster too.

She could turn around. The case would be closed, and she would never know the truth. She could start a new life and put her past behind her. She could admit to her boss and her partners that they were right, and she had been wrong for years. But if she didn’t? It seemed like a clean death if she failed.

She could turn around and slip away before anyone noticed her. But everything in her rebelled at the thought. It had been a long since she had investigated the case and planned to infiltrate the warehouse. Giving up was useless now. She would never have peace.

She continued to force her feet towards the warehouse, struggling to keep up with the pace and movement of the people surrounding her. Her oversized boots did nothing to assist her.

Soon, she made her way into the large building, easing from the compression of bodies that had scattered all over the place.

Emma couldn’t get her mouth to close for more than a few seconds at a time. Everything was so strange, dark, and big. She had been working for months to get a view of the place, and she was standing smack dab in the middle of it. What surprised her the most was the agility and speed of the workers inside the dimly lit building.

She had heard stories of the warehouse, heard tales of the sudden disappearances of people who went snooping around for what happened within the organization. She’d always assumed they were just stories.

For the past few months, all her investigations led back to the very place she was standing in. She had questions that could only be answered within the organization. Her curiosity had dared her to do the riskiest thing she had ever done as a detective. And there she was, standing in a warehouse with over a hundred people who she knew nothing about.

She straightened her shoulders, and a wave of confidence washed through her as she clenched her jaw and proceeded to join other workers who had already started with their work. That was her chance to pick up clues. She wouldn’t let fear stop her from getting to the truth.

There were crates heaped over around the building. There were stacks and stacks of them, and they were sorted into groups by the workers. Her mind echoed with her first plan.

‘Find out what’s in those crates…’

She spotted a group of women who worked silently at the corner and moved to join them. Upon reaching them, she observed them and took a step back, frightened by their callous eyes and massive size.

They all seemed to sense her at the same time because they paused immediately, their hands falling limply by their side and their eyes peering at her.

She met their gazes briefly, hating the dread and helplessness that washed over her. Something was not right.

Something was wrong with the atmosphere. Or was it the people? Emma thought they all seemed different, too different from fitting into the ordinary world. Her gaze slid over to them one after the other, their eyes beaming in the dark. With no doubt, she knew they were not like her. But what were they?

Her heart hammered in her chest and she stood motionless as the women stared at her. They were saying nothing, but they all seemed to be thinking collectively. They didn’t know who she was yet, but she was certain that they were suspicious of her.

One of the women who seemed to be older than the rest suddenly stood up and walked towards Emma. Her movement was swift and graceful as she walked in circles around her, observing and sniffing her.

The gathered workers watched them with a look of hunger that left Emma frightened. It was bad enough that she was sniffed, that she was about to be caught, but did they have to look at her like she was some sort of animal? If looks could kill, she would have dropped dead in a second.

While all this was happening, she swallowed the urge to speak. If she was truly different from them, speaking would give her away immediately. But just like her mind was read, the woman who had been sniffing her threw her a question.

“Where do you come flom?...” She asked, taking a step back from Emma, her eyes not leaving her for once.

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but the words were struggling at the back of her throat. She was doomed. But she had practiced, over and over. She had listened to the tapes and recordings taken during some interrogations with some workers. She knew they rolled their ‘S’ and often replaced their ‘l’ with an ‘r’ and vice versa, but could she speak clearly like them? Their voices were rather thick, hers was crisp and girly in every form.

“Work. I have come for work…” She responded slowly, imitating them the best way she could. If there was something she had learned from the tapes, they always had vague answers to questions. No matter what they were asked, they either gave too much or too few details, far from the answer required. She had often wondered if there were all eccentrics.

Emma found herself hoping that her disguised appearance and fake accent were enough to earn her a vote of recognition, as the women stared at her intensely. She prayed, with all of her beings, that she didn’t look as different as she felt. That they would somehow believe that she was one of them. But her prayers weren’t answered.

“Imposter… Human!...” The woman finally breathed. “Imposter within us!...” This time, she yelled, taking a step towards her with clenched fists.

Emma shook her head forcefully, retreating as everyone began to gather around her. “No! I am not an imposter.” She yelled. It wasn’t true. She was skinny, shorter than the smallest among them, and human in every way.

“You dare rie…” One of the women thundered. “Filthy human…” Perfect. She had made things worse.

As much as Emma struggled to understand them even in the face of danger, she couldn’t. They kept referring to her as human. What were they? She staggered, trying to keep her shaking legs beneath her as she retreated slowly. There was no way she could fight them off. She was outnumbered. One to nearly a hundred.

“Stop!..” A deep voice boomed across the crowd gathered around her. It rang with authority and a note of command that stopped even Emma abruptly in her tracks. The crowd stepped aside to reveal a tall man, with an impassive look on his face.

Callus Silvan.

Though she didn’t know much about the organization’s stronghold, she had carefully investigated the leader, the ruthless man who oversaw all the operations within and outside the organization. He was definitely not a man to be messed with.

He stood casually, his eyes highlighting his dangerous and ruthless looks. His eyes were bright and eerily focused upon her as she stood motionlessly.

“She wirr come with me…” Emma heard him say. Apparently, if the rumors she heard about him were true, she was a dead woman. “Work is over. I sharr get lid of her and tomollow, we sharr continue…”

Emma bristled, her heart hammering. One by one, everyone began to pour out of the warehouse. She watched in fear as the workers threw spiteful looks at her before they moved out. Soon, she would be left alone with Callus. What did he intend to do with her? Maybe she would have a chance to subdue and interrogate him. She would be alone with him. She had a chance. Her mind raced with thoughts, and she struggled to regulate them.

Unfortunately, she was not left alone with him. About ten men had stayed behind on Callus’s command, circling and eyeing her like she was auctioned for sale. She could hear her heart beating, her hands were perspiring as she thought of a way to save herself.

Her mind was steering all sorts of things she liked to keep away. But she needed all the ideas and brutality in the world if she was going to survive. Ten meters, or more as she figured it, people were surrounding her. Eleven. Her eyes counted them. And they were staring at her with such hostility that sent shivers down her spine.

She had her gun, and it was loaded with bullets. But how fast would she be able to shoot eleven men scattered around the room? It was impossible. Nonetheless, she had to try. She had to save herself.

They were still watching her. Whatever was keeping them from attacking her was far beyond Emma’s reasoning. Maybe they were aroused by her defenseless looks and just viewed her as a lump of fresh, tender meat. Whatever, she would have to use their underestimation as her strength.

It happened in a second. She reached and pulled her gun, but he was faster than her, faster and stronger. She didn’t even have a second to aim, Callus had launched himself towards her, his feet barely skimming the ground. Her gun received the first strike, snapped into two, and flew from her hand like a shooting star.

Emma leaped back to avoid an instant hit from Callus, but a foot landed on her back, sending her to the ground. She sprawled forward, but even as she fell, she spun around immediately, dodging Callus’ nails aimed at her, which had now grown exceedingly, resembling claws. Rather, they were claws.

Emma wasn’t slow. She sprang up, knocking a few crates over and dodging a kick from behind her.

They were not serious with her, she could tell. She was a game to Callus and not them. But she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of killing her easily. No. She would fight to the end and break some ribs if she could.

In a split second, she pulled her knife hidden in her boot and flung herself towards Callus with a force that knocked him back as the blade connected with his shoulder. The smell of blood that clung to her nose confirmed that her move was successful. Callus staggered back, blood dripping from his injured shoulder. Her attack had caught him off guard, and he was furious. Emma, however, was relentless, she swung towards him again but this time, Callus blocked the attack and countered with a blow to her stomach. His strong foot connected with her stomach and Emma was blown across the room, landing with a thud on the stacked crates.

She screamed as her spine connected with the crates, the pain rippling across her back. Callus charged, straight at her, his eyes gleaming with wickedness and anger. With just a second to contemplate, Callus grabbed her hair, his fingers digging into her scalp as he lifted her until she was dangling on the tips of her toes. Then he slammed her to a pillar, blood trickling down her temple.

He struck her again, this time, on her face, over and over. She tasted blood and his hand was completely drenched in her blood. He wrapped his hand around her neck, tightening his grip as she struggled to set herself free.

She was dangling in the air, held against the pillar by Callus, as he gripped her neck furiously. Emma was kicking violently, her head fuzzy with pain and dizziness, as he continued to squeeze down on her throat. She could feel her strength leaving her. She could feel her arms weakening. She didn’t have any strength left to fight him, and her desperate struggle was yielding nothing.

But then it struck her. Her mind made one last attempt to save her.

With one last desperate attempt, she shoved her hand into her pockets and before Callus could react to her sudden movement, she pulled out a pepper spray and whipped some of its content at his face. He barely dodged it. With a loud growl, he released her, fell backward, and she crumpled to the ground immediately.

Her head was throbbing and blood was dripping from her face. She knew the effect of the pepper spray wouldn’t buy her enough time. Others were circling her closely, ready to jump in once Callus was unable to kill her. She needed a miracle to survive.

Luckily, her eyes caught her knife lying unnoticed a few meters from her. Instantly, she poured on the speed she had left, crawling with her side to the tiny blade. But Callus lunged after her. She scrambled desperately towards the knife, but he caught her leg and drew her back to himself. Struggling, she tried to kick him in the face, but he caught her second leg and yanked hard.

Her head rocked against the ground, adrenaline rushing through her as he pulled her to himself. The next thing, she was lifted and Callus violently pushed her against the wall. His eyes were vicious, and he seemed to be tired of all the games. He wanted to end her.

As Emma struggled against his power, her face bloodied, her head pounding and cuts across her body, her mind raced to her parents. It was over. It was finally over. She had met the same fate as her parents. Untimely death. He was going to slit her throat and she would cease to exist. Forgotten. Died as a result of her hero syndrome. She should have listened to the warnings.

Callus lifted his hand, his sinister eyes burning with fury and his claws thick and long. He was about to kill her.

It must have been adrenaline because Emma curled her hand into a fist and aimed for his face, but her fist ended up flying past his head while she was suddenly catapulted away from Callus. Wait… What was going on?

She was thrown across the room, slamming her rips against the ground and moaning loudly as the pain rippled across her chest. The pain was enough to make her pass out, but she was on a battleground. She struggled to rise but fell back weakly as her tired body could not handle the pain anymore.

A loud, fierce growl reverberated through the air, causing her to stagger back as she struggled to rise to her feet. She froze.

A pair of cold black eyes like polished onyx was staring at her. They were wild and vicious. The man who she was unable to identify had now replaced her, standing in the midst of her attackers. He looked terrifying, with dark veins protruding around his bulging muscles. He was larger and fiercer than them. She knew, of course, he wasn’t human. Who was he, and why was he trying to save her?