Claimed by My Bully Alpha Chapter 301

Caleb’s P.O.V

The wind tore at my face as I sprinted behind my father, Alpha Camden, the pounding of our boots barely audible over the distant, unmistakable sounds of chaos—snarls, howls, the sickening crunch of bone against earth. Every stride I took was in sync with the sharp, purposeful rhythm of the others at my side: Beta Raymond, stoic and ever-watchful even now, his fists clenched tight; Jade, his face pale but his eyes burning with that unyielding fire he always carried into battle; and Shane, whose calmness in these moments was almost unsettling, like the quiet eye of a hurricane before everything exploded.

None of us had shifted yet—we couldn’t. Not until we saw for ourselves. Not until we knew what the hell we were walking into.

“Caleb,” my father barked over his shoulder, his voice steady despite the frenzy ahead, “once we get eyes on the field, you stay close to Raymond. You do not engage until I give the signal. Understood?”

I nodded, breath hitching in my throat, but my voice came out clear. “Understood.”

We broke through the final line of trees like shadows peeled from the forest itself, and there—just beyond the boundary stones, where the ancient warding lines shimmered faintly with warning light—hell had already unfolded. A massive clash of fur and fang met my gaze, like something out of a nightmare. Wolves—our wolves—fought fiercely, teeth bared and claws slicing through flesh. But the ones they fought against… gods, I had never seen anything like them.

A horde of rogues, but not like the scattered, disorganized strays we were used to hunting down. These ones moved with eerie purpose, eyes glowing crimson like dying embers stoked by rage. Blood matted their coats, blackened with dirt and filth, but they fought with this… this hunger, like pain didn’t register, like death wasn’t even a consideration.

I saw one go down under three of our soldiers—its ribs shattered, its skull crushed—and yet even as it fell, it snapped, jaws twitching open and shut, still trying to sink its teeth into anyone who got close enough.

“What the hell…” Jade whispered, breath catching as he stopped beside me, eyes wide.

Beta Raymond narrowed his gaze. “They’re not just rogues. They’ve been… enhanced. Poisoned, maybe. Controlled.”

Controlled. The word lingered like a toxin in my chest, mixing with the surge of adrenaline that had already begun to burn through me like fire. These weren’t wild attacks. This was planned. Coordinated. Someone had sent them.

My father didn’t wait. “Shift!”

The command ripped through the air like a whip crack, and I didn’t hesitate. Pain exploded through my body as bones shattered and reformed, my skin tearing as my wolf tore free from the cage of flesh and bone. The world sharpened, colors deepening, sounds slicing through the noise. My paws hit the ground with a satisfying thud, the scent of blood and fear flooding my senses as I leapt forward with a snarl that barely sounded like me.

We launched into the fray as one, tearing through the rogues like a blade through rotted wood. My jaws found flesh—hot, rancid, screaming—and I didn’t stop. I didn’t think so. I couldn’t think. These creatures… they weren’t fighting for territory or survival. They fought like they had nothing left to lose. They didn’t dodge or defend, didn’t howl in pain or retreat when wounded.

One came at me, its shoulder torn open and bones sticking out, but it lunged anyway, mouth frothing, teeth gnashing for my throat. I slammed it down with all the force I had, teeth sinking deep into its neck, and even as it choked on its last breath, its claws scrambled against my side, desperate for one final strike.

All around me, my pack fought with savage precision. Shane and Jade flanked me, the three of us working in a deadly dance we’d practiced since we were pups, our movements synchronized, deadly. But it wasn’t enough. Every rogue that fell seemed to be replaced by two more. My mind raced as I tore through another, black blood spraying across the dirt. Who were they? Where did they come from? And what had made them like this?

And then I saw it—one of our soldiers, a younger wolf, barely of age, pinned under a rogue three times his size. I didn't think so. I didn’t stop. I barreled toward them with a snarl so loud it startled even my own ears, slamming into the rogue with all the fury in my bones, knocking it off the boy and straight into the bark of a tree. It didn’t scream. It didn’t whimper. It just got up—ribs shattered, legs bent the wrong way—and came at me again.

What kind of monsters don’t feel pain?

I barely dodged, felt teeth rake across my shoulder as I spun and drove my claws straight into its throat. It took too long to die. Everything was taking too long to die.

My father’s wolf—the massive black-and-silver Alpha—howled from the heart of the battlefield, his call rising above the madness. Hold the line! Push them back!

I howled back, raw and furious, and we pushed harder. Because whatever these things were, they weren’t just here for blood.

They were here for war.

I knew they were relentless.

I knew it the moment the sky cracked open with thunder, as if the heavens themselves were warning us of the nightmare charging through the tree line. The rogues didn’t move like any normal wolves—no tactics, no communication, just bloodlust and chaos in fur and fangs. But that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. No, it made them worse.

Because when a creature has nothing left to lose, not even a mind to hold onto, you realize just how much of a threat it becomes.