Prologue

WINTER 1971, SIERRA MAESTRA, SOUTHEASTERN CUBA

The whirling helicopters were above his head, flying over the branches of the trees, with their headlight missing his steps, and he ran faster than them, swaying through the thick mountain that ran westward from the far side of the south of the oriente province in southeast cuba, with an upward transition from the coast.

Military vehicles were on his tail, flashing lights on their path as they chased the man. Trees fell, the paths were cleared off of vegetation, the night was cold as ice, but driven by a burning desire– kept them afloat.

But they weren't his problem, at least for the moment because there was a bigger reason to flee; these beasts were chasing him and they ran behind the scenes in the dark. It was just their perfect place and he would bee damned if they caught up with him.

The man ran through the thick shrubs, breathing heavily, hitting the ground hard with his bare foot. He seemed heavy, but he was damn fast, his back was turned to his enemies, and they wondered if the cold night affected him, or strengthened him.

The man could no longer see a straight path to run on, even though he was fast, the flashlights moved before him, he gritted his teeth in anger, he hated the light, and the noises, especially the ones that the helicopter made. Thongs and tree nails scratched through his hard skin, taking souvenirs of his blood, before his skin made them Innocent and free of blood shed. His ears were disturbed, his eyes ever searching for a quicker and better path as his legs took him on that ride.

He couldn't take it anymore, he uprooted a palm tree from the corner, clenching his hands around it as he mustered up enough strength to spin around and dash it upward to the helicopter, its speed were of his, as if he had effected it… the pilot didn't see it coming! He steered, warning signals! Beeps! It was too late! The tree hit the body, causing it to go sideways as its blades cut through tree tops which descended on a military vehicle at the back; the second helicopter was behind, its blade slashed through the steel, on the verge of turning away from it! The pilot is affected! The helicopter swiped and swinged down from the tree tops, destroying itself with fire as it enclosed the gap between earth and the sky, the flames and smokes went up immediately, halting the other helicopter from motion, he either turned… but it was too late, the helicopter could only take too much… more fire! More smokes, more clatter! More ashes!

The man smiled at his win; it just became a fair fight. He slashed through the mountain as he let the moon illuminate his path.

His eyes flickered and he turned to his left path where he met his potential threats.

A pack of six werewolves stood in front of him and circled him in no time. They were in their full wolf forms and they had different fur colors and sizes, and their deep growling validated their anger.

The man looked at all of them one by one and as he continued panting he made no move to escape just because he didn't want to, but unfortunately he had more enemies to worry about.

"Oh come on, I shouldn't be running from you too!" He growled.

A big red-golden furred wolf stepped out and dropped his jaw to show his sharp and deadly fangs. "We have you now, you are not going anywhere" the wolf communicated to him through a mind link.

The man smiled and calmed down. "Is that so? Have you forgotten who I am?"

"You are nothing but a rogue—"

He cut the wolf short. "I'm the Alpha, and I ask you to back down, now" he commanded.

"Hmm. Are you ignorant or are you stupid? I am an Alpha! And you can't give me commands moreover, you are not the Alpha King anymore…" the wolf walked closer to the man.

"That doesn't change the fact that I am capable of slaying you and your pack right now!" He gritted his teeth.

"Tell me, what would you do? You can't even shift to a real wolf. You don't belong here, rogue"

"I will pardon you today just because I have some bitter visitors, but I promise you this, we will settle and I will rip your heart out and shove it into your mouth"

"Say that to your mate. Oh, I forgot, you have none. Poor you"

"I have lived for centuries, do you seriously think that I care about a mate?"

"No I think you have been denied a honourable and good thing every Alpha needs to have, a Luna"

The man motioned to attack, but his bitter enemies were near.

"Hate to break it to you, but next time!" He said and ran away.

He kept on running, but he'd crested a ridge on his survival run. He reached up to the crest of the mountain which descended down the seemingly bottomless dark valley; an end point.

The vehicles approached, and the doors were opened as the men dropped the remaining distance to their feet. Fully armed, masked, except their leader, one big man, who stood in front of them.

He chuckled under his breath as the man turned around to face them and with a burning sensation in his eyes, he strained his hands, tightening the muscles of his arms as blood pumped through his blood vessels.

A little moment of observing these armed men as the moon surged behind two loose clouds apart, flooding thin, cold light over the woods drawing the man's figure.

He had sharp features, tall, well built, with a balanced weight, and the men stayed put as the light swelled over his broad shoulders.

Their leader stepped forward, he looked fearful, with a mark across his eyes. He had short and stiff hair, with a bristly chin propped with white beards.

The two men looked more like giants to the rest of the men because of their muscular features, but their prey seemed to be more natural, and real, he was taller, larger and looked younger.

"I have chased you for years, Logan, you have given the CIA a tough time, and me too…" the man said as cold smoke poured out with his words.

"I'm not a bad guy, Twain! And you know that!" Logan muttered through clenched teeth. His words were evenly stressed, musical you could say; a typical irish accent.

His words seemed to have stricken a nerve, "But you're the damn God-father! you are at the top but leave your cartels and all the mafian clans under you to carry out the dirty works…" he retorted.

Logan's breathing was never calming down, but Twain was pretty breezy. "Billionaires like you don't give a damn 'bout how they get the money. You're an international menace Logan, you're on top of every government's wild dogs list, and guess what…?" He brought out a gun from his holder.

Logan gritted his teeth, he knew what it was. It was a M1911 Browning Pistol, with a standard .45 bullet which could yield a thrust wild enough to crack a bone, or end a life instantly.

Twain brought the gun close to his nose, and scanned through the gun with his eyes ``This is yours isn't it?..." He looked at Logan "Hmm is funny how a Mafia Don is going to go down by his own gun…" he chuckled. "But really painful, that you're going to get wasted high up in the mountains of Cuba… now you know how it feels to be hunted… even though you never hunted people personally…" he stuck his nose into the air with a satisfying inhale.

"You know, Christ died for our sins… maybe you could do the same now for your men. Die for their sins Logan" he dropped the gun to his side.

Logan looked over his shoulders, and at the sides, there was no way of escape.

Twain brought out another gun, sliding the browning pistol into his holder. "But I'm more than that…" he cocked his Glock .45 Caliber G.A.P which ensured automatic shots of about 10 rounds that could be shot continuously with one trigger.

"Make your death painless…" he pointed the gun at Logan whose heart throbbed up his shoulders.

"Get down on your knees and surrender… you're going down now" he commanded.

Logan dropped down his shoulders, letting his arms hang at the sides of his body without bringing them close to his sides.

He inhaled the cold wind and exhaled through his nose and mouth, letting out a slightly thick fog.

He dropped down his face, still for a moment as a grumbling sound was heard. Twain furrowed his eyebrows, holding up his gun with a tighter grasp. Maybe he was saying a prayer; he thought.

But a rustling sound was heard under Logan's feet. He looked to see his feet enlarging, followed by his entire legs, it seemed like the bones just enlarged and changed structures, and then, to his utmost surprise, his eyes widened with a gasp as dark brown claws had their way out from his toes.

"W-hat what the…" Twain stammered as his heart beat increased, and he clenched his gun with two hands, live wires of fear crusted through his blood lines.

His ears elongated, spurring out white gold furs around it, furs swelled around the sides of his face, running down to his chest, stopping to spread over and continuing until the navel, his neck was veiled with hairs which poured over his shoulders. His claws were long, sharp, hard and whitish.

"Many men, even before your time, have tried. Including my kind… I'm not going down today Twain…" he said, as he lifted up his head.

His upper fang elongated down below his lower lips, and he was graced with a golden ring-like glowing eyes.

They were all transfixed by his beasty presence, he could hear everything, including their throbbing heart beats, he could taste the fear in their bloods.

They were crinkled up with utter disbelief and extreme veneration. Suddenly, they had become the prey and threatened; but guns were clasped tightly, each man maintaining his stance,under shivering hands, weight on the shoulder, overwhelmed by the terror of the night, in anticipation for the order.

A line of smile spread across his lips as he parted his jaws, letting his fangs visible to the eyes of the already phobia-submerged.

He howled into the moon, but he was alone. He didn't need anyone, and he was ready.

Then… ««CRACK!!!»» a sonic boom, as the projectile stirred through the air at supersonic speed

Heart beats slowed, a deep inhale and exhale of smoke through his mouth and nose, the sound was almost piercing.

The bullet effortlessly slipped out from his chest, fallon onto the meadow grass…

"Fire!!" Screams of war from the soldiers and bullets, each at it's own speedy pace.

But where was the man? There was no monster at the crest… How could five dozens of trained soldiers be hallucinating??

Did he just disappear into thin air? Fear gripped them all, their teeth clatter, and their body shivered. Who was going to get ripped apart first?

"Arrrgghhh!!" A painful cry followed with cracks of gunshots, the lights from shots glittering on their fear ridden bloodied faces, each representing the blood of his fallen comrade splashed on his face as the monster roared all over them, circling them around as he penetrated their bodies with his deadly claws. He doesn't stop! He tossed them like they were nothing. Damaging a couple of soldiers at once, he flinged them out like a dust mote flicked from a window ledge. Even his feet were strong, a dive and hit with his feet pulled the soldiers to the ground as he pierced their chests with foot claws.

The noises had died out, a few hearts still breathing, but stopped. He could only hear one… he turned to Twain growling and panting.

Twain stepped back, eyes wide open, he gulped, as Logan leaned forward, even his presence was a threat, his blood stained body frightening… Twain looked into his golden glowing eyes even though it looked special and alluring… the bearer was a beast!

"You should have left when you had the chance." He lifted the man up in a single sweep above ground level, Twain gasped as his hands were tightened around his neck, he made choking sounds, a plea of mercy insinuated from his frail eyes and dying breath, but the beast buried his sharp fangs into his thick skin, penetrating his cervical vertebrae. The man dropped down on the ground with a silent thud.

Logan stood before the columns of the moonlight through the tree canopies, and he let out a sharp, satisfying exhale.

His hands were dirted with blood dripping down from his claws onto the green ground. The men laid wasted as there was an ever flowing of blood from their wounds.

He looked over his shoulder, even the crickets were quiet, the wind hushed into his ear, he could hear every little sound; something was coming! He pulled back, and sweeped off of the mountain crest.