Her abandoned Beta

Nightly adventure (10 years ago)

*Dion*

As the wagon rumbles slowly through the streets toward the s*******r yard, I shift my backside over the hard seat and tighten my hands in frustration on the wheel. It isn't the first time I have been called to a posh house to dispose of a horse that appears perfectly healthy. The snobs don’t like it when a mare tosses off a precious daughter or a gelding takes a nip at their valued heir's arse. Still, it irritates the devil out of me when a good horse has to be put down for stupid reasons.

But I had told the girl the truth. I am paid a hundred quit to dispatch the creature to heaven, and if it is discovered that I haven’t, my boss could forfeit his license and I would lose not only my position but my ability to find employment elsewhere, because who would trust me after not carrying out orders dictated by law ? No cheating of the customer is allowed.

The taking of a horse that is to be put down is theft. I am not going to risk going to prison, no matter how pretty the girl is, no matter how green her eyes are … the greenest, prettiest I have ever had the pleasure to look into. Even if they were filled with anger directed at me, when it should have been directed at herself. Silly chit, to hasten a horse's end by goading her and then begging me to spare the beast, as though I have a choice in the matter.

I don’t. At the depot, they are expecting the horse and the hundred quit. It will be killed with one swift blow of an axe. Normally I find comfort knowing that the end comes swiftly and mercifully.

But the girl, blast her … I can still see the tears glistening in her eyes … makes me feel guilty about my current occupation. It pays well, but it isn't where I plan to spend my entire life. I am twentyone, have saved a good bit of money, and will soon be moving on to better things. But no amount of moving on is going to stop me from being haunted by the sorrow reflected in those green, green eyes.

Late in the day, at night really, near midnight actually, in the small back courtyard outside the Alpha of Ridge wood’s massive residence, I stand with my black burglary bag resting near my feet. In my youth, I had gotten involved with an unsavory group of lads. I had been fifteen when my mum had discovered what I was about and had nearly flayed the skin off my backside with her switch … even with my britches still covering the sensitive flesh.

She hadn't taken me in when no one else wanted me and kept me alive all those years to see me rotting in prison or dangling from a hangman's noose. To placate her I had left the trade of burglarizing but kept the tools I had purchased as well as the skills I had acquired, never knowing when either or both might come in handy.

I have been studying the residence for a couple of hours now, striving to determine which bedchamber is hers, but the girl never peers out a window. Based on the glow occasionally coming from between the draperies, I have been able to narrow the possible windows down to eight, but not knowing the size of the rooms, I can’t be certain I have the right of it when it comes to their number. In a residence as

large as this one, some of the chambers are bound to have more than a single window.

Hedges line the walls, but no trees are near enough to the house for me to climb up and take a peek inside.

Hence the tools. I am going to break into the Alpha’s manor.

I had considered stopping by tomorrow

afternoon and asked to talk with the girl about the fate of her horse but had decided I am safer with a clandestine meeting because absolutely no one except the girl can ever know what I have done. Aa Alpha who sends a horse to its doom for tossing his daughter from the saddle might not take too kindly to a commoner asking to speak with said daughter, especially when I am hoping our little meeting will result in her traveling with me.

The rationale had all made sense when I had been tossing back beer in my sister's bar, although I suspect that come morning, when a clearer head is to be found, I will realize I am every manner of fool.

But that is for tomorrow. For now, I am not so far into my cups that I can’t sneak stealthily into the house. I have watched the lights going out one by one until not a speck is visible, so I am rather certain all the inhabitants, including the servants, are finally in bed. The larger the residence, the better it is for burglarizing because so much of it is abandoned at night that a thief can easily wander about, lifting goods without ever running into another soul.

Hefting my bag over my shoulder, pulling my cap down low, I creep toward the massive manor that is the sort I plan to live in when I am older, when I have made something of myself. As much as I hate my current occupation, I love working with the horses and hope, with a bit of luck, to own a horse farm someday where I can breed and train the noble beasts. It isn't a fancy dream, but I would rather be my own man, work for myself, not have to answer to another. However, dreaming is for another time. At this precise moment I need to focus on not getting caught.

When I reach the servants' door, I quietly lower my bag to the ground, open it, and pull out a small flashlight, with a kinda cover that allows only a minimum of light to escape.I hold it up to the lock, grateful to see it is one I am quite skilled at unlocking.

I have the tools to pry open a window or to cut away glass when prying won’t work, but opening a lock is always the better choice, especially in this case. If the unlocked door is discovered, a servant will be taken to task for not securing the home properly, but that is preferable to leaving glaring evidence that someone has indeed entered uninvited.

Removing the small satchel containing my picks, I go to work and less than a minute later I am through the door. I leave my bag on the stoop because I won’t be taking any treasures with me.

Although it is tempting, so damned tempting, to lift a vase here or an ornate box there as I make my way quietly through the residence, holding my lantern aloft to guide me. Now and then the light will shine on some fancy object I know probably wouldn't be missed. The snobs have so many blasted knickknacks, as though filling their house with useless things will disguise the fact their lives are lacking in some regard. On occasion, after I had ransacked a residence, no one ever noted the absence of the silver candlesticks, trinkets, or figurines I had nicked. Cops had never been sent for. I had known because I had taken perverse pleasure in keeping an eye on the house just to see if any frantic activity occurred the following morning.

I had even prided myself on getting away with the thievery, had thought eventually I could become the greatest burglar who ever lived … but then my mum had discovered my antics and put a quick stop to them.

If she hadn't, I wouldn't now be creeping through the residence, up the wide swath of stairs. I imagine the Alpha’s daughter descending them, in a ball gown of clover green that matches her eyes. I suspect her dance card would be filled within a few minutes of her arriving in the ballroom. I know all about balls because they are good for a burglar's business, especially when the guests stay over.

More jewelry to rob because it is seldom locked up when people retire late and are too weary to properly see to things. The g**g boss had sent me to case out a few balls, then ordered me to rob one of the residences. It had been the most terrifying and exhilarating night of my life. Until now. My heart is thumping hard, not from fear but from anticipation.

At the landing, I turn down a hallway, and when I reach the first door, I pause, press my ear to the wood, and listen. Heavy snoring, male snoring. The next door reveals nothing but quiet on the other side. Probably the lady of the manor, but I need to check. Slowly, ever so slowly, I release the latch and then inch by inch eases open the door. Fancy houses also tend to have silent hinges, the servants being keen about keeping them oiled.