Alpha

by Kim Faulks

  My phone let out a beep. I glanced at the screen and caught Geek boy in red. Looked like Irwin had a hit on X. My damn fingers itched to grab the phone and find out what he knew.

  Long strands of her dark hair strewn across the floor came back to me.

  Helen’s warning lingered at the edges of my mind, like an unwelcome visitor just waiting to come in.

  The kid wasn’t dangerous…she was just a damn kid, unravelling from the inside.

  That shit I knew well.

  I slowed the car at the eight-foot fence. Red signs were plastered all over the gate, warning trespassers would be prosecuted…cameras pointed down on me from every angle.

  I stopped the car and leaned out of the window to the keypad on the side. The four-digit number was assigned to me and me alone. I waited for the green light and the gate to make a move before I slid back into the seat.

  Pebbles crunched under the tires. A cool breeze swept around the low-set brick house. The place was almost overgrown with palms. Weeds stuck out of the driveway and the bushes didn’t look like they’d seen a blade for a while.

  I nosed the car up to the garage and stopped. Irwin's message waited for me. I itched to hit the screen and find out more about the young wolf, but I wanted time to process, where my head wasn’t quite so full of my past.

  The back door opened. Margret peeked out, and then smiled. “Darrion, come in. He’s out the back fussing over the boat.”

  “So he’s in the exactly the same place I left him over a month ago?” I answered and shoved the door closed.

  Her wry smile said it all. She cocked her head, giving me her cheek as I leaned down and gave her a peck. “Nice to see you, Aunty.”

  She gripped me in a fierce hug, mashing me against her chest before she pulled away. “Good to see you too, Alpha. Go on now, there’s fresh baguettes and cold beer in the fridge out the back. Maybe you can talk some sense into your Uncle and get him away from that damn boat for five minutes.”

  I strode past her and into the house. “I doubt it, but I’ll give it a try.”

  The damn place was cold, slate tiles and ice blue walls lead me to the rear of the house where the glass walls welcomed in the sun and the view.

  The ocean breeze hit me with a cool kiss as I opened the sliding door. My uncle lifted his head from tinkering at the helm of his sailboat and raised his hand. The Great Escape sat tied to his private jetty, shining and slick with sleek black lines and a gloss that bounced the blinding sun into my eyes.

  I headed for the jetty and called out. “You know, you shine that any harder you’ll wear it away before you have a chance to run in the motor.”

  Thin lips turned up in a smile. He spun in the chair and climbed down. “Might be a good chance to get the next one up.”

  “You get that thing any bigger and you’ll be shipped off to live at the marina,” I answered as he climbed from the boat and headed toward me.

  The smack of our palms stung, but it was a good burn…an honest burn. “Good to see you.”

  He leaned in to squeeze my shoulder. Hard eyes softened. “You too, son. What brings you out this way, not that I mind a change from your aunt’s nagging.”

  “I heard that! You better watch yourself, Newman Slater. We can always go with the kale salad for diner.”

  Newman winced and forced a smile before calling out. “Love you, dear.” He waited for a response before muttering. “Not gonna cut it, is it?”

  “Not even fucking close,” I answered. “I could lie and say I was in the neighborhood, but Slaters always work on brutal honesty, no matter how tough, right?”

  The smile in his eyes wavered. He plucked a rag from the waistband of his jeans and wiped his hands. “Then it sounds like it’s a beer and baguette time. Let me wash up and meet you in the den and you can tell me what’s eating you.”

  Relief rushed out, like a pent up breath I’d held ever since Gunny returned from her trip with a damn Dragon in tow. I followed him into the house and headed for the den while he disappeared and returned minutes later carting a tray of thick sandwiches and two bottles of beer.

  I had no idea where to begin. Which part did I say first?

  The part where my best friend was killed? Or the part where the men who we fought and trained with for most of our lives were the ones who pulled the trigger?

  Thick slabs of beef stuck out from between the green. I grabbed a roll and tore into it, chewing and swallowing…waiting for the burning acid in my chest to subside, so I could raise my head and ask the one fucking question I’d rather die than say out loud.

  Did you know what the military was doing?

  He ate and sighed, drained half his beer and leaned back. “When’s the funeral?”

  I winced at the word—my mind conjured shining coffins and perfect flowers. The man deserved more. “Tomorrow.”

  “So not a military one then?”

  I shook my head. Stitch would rather be left in the damn desert than have those who betrayed us at his final resting place. “No, just a few of us and his family.”

  Silence lingered. Gone were the smiles, gone was the ease. I swallowed the last hunk of food and washed it down. Still the wad stuck, digging into the back of my throat. “Did you know?”

  The ease in his tone disappeared as if a switch had been tripped. In a second, the man and the uncle was gone, replaced by Major General Newman Slater. “Know what, Darrion?”

  I didn’t have to raise my head to see the hard edge to his gaze as I asked the question. “Did you know what they were doing to the wolves? The young female wolves to be exact.”

  “Young female wolves? What are you talking about, son?”

  I lifted my head and met his gaze. First it was Darrion, and now it was son. He was so damn hard to read. So damn hard to trust. And I wanted to trust him, wanted it like I wanted to understand this trap we’d fallen into.

  “There’s a compound not far from where I live. The place is hard to find, deep in the forest with one dirt track leading in. It’s razor wired, electrified.” With signs plastered over every side, just like the ones on your house.

  Those words stuck in my throat, refusing to budge. “They keep wolves in there, young women no more than fifteen. They…infect them with wolfsbane, and then watch them go mad. One wolf was shot right in front of us, like we’d stepped out on the battlefield in the middle of a war.”

  “Who?”

  The only question that mattered…and the reason why I was here. “Manduck and his crew.”

  A cold anger simmered in his eyes. “Kava’s men?”

  I nodded. “The orders had to have come from someone. Manduck’s team was locked and loaded and their favorite color was green. There was no hiding the fact this was sanctioned—so all that remains to be answered is by who? Who sent them to kill, who sent them to abduct, and who the fuck knew the Dragons existed.”

  There was a second, a moment where I thought he wasn’t going to react, but then his eyes widened and his chest stilled. We stared at each other—weighing up more than words.

  “Dragons… I heard whispers, but I never thought they were true,” he murmured and shook his head.

  “They’re true, trust me.” Xael’s icy stare filled my head. FYI. the barb on my tail can puncture steel. “And these guys are not someone you want to mess with—trust me. So you’re telling me you knew nothing about any of this?”

  He flinched. “Christ, of course not. You think I’d turn a blind eye to something like this?”

  I rose from the couch and took a step. The sandwich sat heavy. The beer didn’t quench my thirst. “You want the truth? I wasn’t sure, that’s why I’m here. It’s not as though us Slaters have made the best choices in the past.”

  Photos lined the wall in a blur of khaki and blue. Medals glinted, smiles were stony and cold. Punched out chests and ramrod spines filled them all, but there was always one photo that drew me. I moved toward the window where row upon row of photos sat crammed on the hutch.<
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  I reached into the pack and plucked the steel frame from the rest. This was a simple photo, taken outside the Headquarters. The steel building looked a little newer then, as did the fresh young faces standing outside.

  It was a sneaky shot. The three men dressed in field uniform stood deep in conversation. Dad, Newman, and some old friend. Dad seemed to be the odd one out and the only one aware of the photographer. He glared at the camera, brows sliced down the middle with a frown. The other two were smiling, my uncle clasped his buddy’s hand with a steely grip. The image itself was nothing special, nothing more than a capture of a moment in time.

  A moment I’d give anything to have once again.

  “You always find that image, no matter how hard I hide it.”

  I glanced at the floor and then to the image again. “Do you think he thought about us? When he…”

  “Of course he did. You and your mother were his life, Darrion. No one can hope to understand what he was thinking when he drove off that bridge. But if I knew my brother at all, I know one thing without a doubt—he loved you and your mother.”

  “Just not enough to live.”

  It wasn’t a question, not even a statement—just a quiet understanding of where the two people who needed him and loved him the most fit in his world. To someone who didn’t know us, this shot wasn’t important. Hell, it wasn’t even a good image, blurred background made the edges fuzzy. But it was the timing of the thing.

  Six hours after this was taken my father’s car would be dragged from the river, his body gone, washed downstream. They found his wallet three days later, his briefcase after that.

  My uncle rested his hand on my shoulder. “He was a decorated officer, a proud man and a wonderful brother. We were lucky to share his world, even if the time was cut short.”

  My gaze drifted to the glossy black folders under the stranger’s arm. The insignia bold and white sat just above his hand. A circle…no, not a circle, a mirror image of two halves of a crescent moon.

  I’d seen this image before…on the paperwork where we found the imprisoned female shifters—CC—the insignia for Connor Corporation. “Who’s this guy again?”

  “Charles…somebody. He worked on our floor at the time. We lost contact after…your father…not sure what ever happened to the guy.”

  “You two seem…friendly.”

  “It was the first time we met, actually. Your father knew him, not sure how well though. Why?”

  I shook my head and placed the frame back amongst the others. I wanted out of here, out of this house, this city. “No reason. Thanks for the sandwich and the beer.”

  “Wait, wait one damn minute.” He took a step, blocking my path.

  I’d never noticed how gray he’d become. His once hard edges were a little softer, stocky frame a little thicker around the middle. Dad would look like this. That thought settled like a shroud.

  “I know what you're doing, son. But if what you’re saying is true, then you need to be careful. You have no allies in the Corps, not anymore, and those behind this won’t hesitate to put you down. They’ve already killed one young man, don’t be the second—don’t make us bury one of our own again. Let me do this. Let me ask the questions. Let me find the answers.”

  My stomach trembled, choked by an unseen fist. “I’m not giving up, but I’ll let you sniff around and see what you find. Friend or foe, Uncle, they will pay for this.”

  He nodded. “Understood. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find out anything, and give my best to Ann-Marie.”

  I nodded and glanced over my shoulder.

  “Don’t bother,” he murmured. “She’ll be at her damn yoga class, or pilates, or whatever the fuck it is this week. I’ll tell her you said goodbye. I’m proud of you Darrion, even though you’ve made different choices in life, I’ve always been proud of you, as though you were my own son.”

  A weight settled on my shoulders. Palms clasped, chests brunted, and I was gone, striding from this place and these memories as fast as I could.

  “Lost the trail. Gone in a fucking instant. Can you believe that?” Gunny growled.

  I forced my focus to the road as familiar pine trees whipped past. “They have to be there. Nothing disappears in thin air, unless Vampires can do that. Can they do that?”

  “How the fuck should I know, and why the hell is Irwin not answering his damn phone?”

  I winced at the sharp edge to her voice. She could be damn cold sometimes. “We’re all dealing in our own way. Give him some time, Gunny.”

  In other words, back the fuck off.

  The roar of the engine filled the void, until she finally spoke. “You think I don't know that? You think I don’t want to drown my damn sorrows too? He’s gone, Alpha. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. So what do you want me to say to Joslyn when she’s on her damn knees, begging me to find her babies? What do you want me to tell Zadoc? We have no time to grieve. We have no time to hate, or hurt…we have no time to do a damn thing but stay alive, and hold onto as many of us as we can. So you tell Irwin exactly that. You tell him to smarten the fuck up, you tell him he has people depending on him—who love him.”

  Her voice cracked mid-sentence. Jesus, we were all fractured on the inside.

  “We’re at war,” she whispered. “We’re at war and our side is losing. So what do we do, Alpha?”

  “We dig deep,” the words tumbled from my lips.

  “We dig fucking deep, and we keep on digging until we come out the other goddamn side.”

  My spine stiffened. I gripped the wheel. A command was issued down the line. A command every bit as powerful as the hurt that filled my heart. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “So, I’ll see you in about nine hours. Tomorrow we’ll bury our brother. We’ll pay our respects, and then we’re gonna lock and load and hunt these bastards down.”

  Gunny ended the call, leaving her order ringing in my head. I gripped the wheel and drove past the turnoff to Soteria, and headed for the once dying small town. Now the place was thriving, more people moving here, more food, more haircuts, more of everything—except crime.

  X slipped into my mind. If I was honest, she never really left. I jerked the wheel and barreled into the grocery store parking lot, taking the space near the front. What the hell does a kid like her need anyway?

  I shoved open the car door and then slammed it shut. Heads turned, one old timer gave a nod. They were used to us here, didn’t like us…but used to us. I snatched a basket from the front and headed for the meat. Steak, nice and thick, something a wolf could tear apart.

  I picked up a packet of steaks, stared at the marble in the meat and shoved three packets into the basket. I crammed chicken, socks, shampoo and conditioner that smelled like strawberries into the space and grabbed a massive checkered shirt from the rack.

  She had three thin shirts, plus the one she was wearing. But this was too big for her…they were too big even for me.

  I had old ones in the back of the cupboard she could use. The image of her in my clothes filled my head. Someone cleared their throat an aisle over. Heat rushed, burning my cheeks. I shoved the shirt on the hanger and made for the checkout.

  Diaries sat in a pile at the edge of the counter. I riffled through the colors and plucked gold from the middle—gold would suit her brown eyes.

  “Good for writing down your dreams, you know?”

  I flinched and dragged my head up.

  The pretty, blonde cashier smiled and twirled her hair. “You writing down your dreams, Alpha?”

  I forced a smile. “Maybe, why you want in?”

  Her eyes widened, chest swelled with the rush, pressing those double Ds against the buttons of her uniform. This was our ritual. Back and forth, the hunter and the prey…and I was never prey.

  “Yeah I want in,” she murmured.

  My hand clenched around the diary, and X filled my head, killing the momentum. “Maybe next time, yeah?”

  She flinched, and her smile died. I
shoved the diary onto the counter and piled the rest along after it.

  The pretty blonde tried her best, touching my hand as I swiped my card. But the magic was gone, lost under haunted brown eyes and hacked hair.

  I forced a smile and snatched my bags from the counter. The emptiness lingered, haunting every damn step as I strode outside to the car. I shoved the bags into the backseat and climbed in.

  Any other day I’d be all over the blonde, whispering things she wanted to hear. Taking her number, texting her in a day or two. Any other day I’d be…me.

  But not today. My goddamn heart ached. I reached for my chest and probed the gunshot wound in my shoulder as the pain stretched across my ribs and tightened like a fucking belt.

  I clenched the wheel and tried to breathe. I couldn’t…couldn’t draw air. Jesus…Jesus. My face burned, pulsed with the throbbing beat of my heart. I opened my mouth and yanked my collar.

  My fist punched the horn. The sound blared—short and sharp—tearing through the parking lot and filling my head.

  I clawed the door handle. Air slapped my face as I tumbled, slipped, fell, hit the asphalt, and rolled I’m dying…I’m dying. Where the fuck is Stitch when you need him?

  Dead…Stitch is dead.

  “Hey there, you okay?”

  I tried to suck in a breath as shadows surrounded me.

  “Do you need an ambulance, son?”

  I wrenched my head up to blurred faces and gasped. “Heart…attack.”

  “Wait…” Someone touched my wrist, my neck. A woman’s voice broke through soft and firm. “Put your head down to your knees and slow your breaths. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

  Her hand pushed the back of my head, forcing me to double over.

  “Nice and slow. You’re okay, you’re doing okay.”

  Air rushed in slow at first. I swallowed, and coughed.

  Her hand lingered, drawing slow circles along my shoulder and my back. “There you go, nice and slow.”

  Air rushed in, filling my lungs. My pulse thundered, drowning out everything but the sound of her words and the feel of her touch. “What’s happening to me?”

  “You’re having a panic attack. You’re okay now. You’re doing just fine.”