Under The Alpha's Protection

Chapter 4: The Alleyway

Usually, Blue would only see Laia once every week. Before, it used to be less frequent. During her lunch break though, Blye got a call from Laia Steele, the alpha asking if it was possible for them to grab dinner together again after Blue's work.

The reason being: Laia and her brother's argument that morning. Laia hadn't been in the mood to remain in their Territory after that, so Blue could only assume the argument was a big one.

Blue had agreed, saying she could meet Laia at the diner again. Laia cheered mildly, apparently already on her way to Bracket Town to do some shopping while she waited for Blue.

Their conversation hadn't even finished yet when a man burst through the clinic door, startling Blue and causing her to drop her fork back in the tupperware containing her packed lunch.

In the man's arms was a brown werewolf—a pup, given its size and the sound of its high-pitched little whimpers.

Blue told Laia she needed to go, pushing aside her food as the man rushed towards Blue at the front desk. "Help me, please. My son had a-a fever last night. He shifted to his wolf form and I-I haven't been able to coax him to shift back. I don't know if... if it's too much for his sick body to shift back, but he's still hot to the touch, and I can't–"

"Okay, okay. Sir, I'll need you to calm down." Blue couldn't risk the man having a panic attack before Doctor Oswin could assess the pup in the man's arms. "Take a seat and I'll be with you in a moment to get more details, okay?"

The man exhaled in relief, but his eyes shone with unshed tears. "Thank you." His clothes were stained with what looked and smelled like grease stains, which might be a hint that the man was a mechanic who had hurried from his job after hearing what happened to his son.

The man's name was Bryan, and he was a beta. He cradled his son close to his chest, the pup's grey and black fur looking incredibly soft to the touch even though his tiny body was racked with shivers (or possibly flinches from a bad dream).

While Blue noted the man and his son's personal information, the werewolf opened his golden eyes. That simple action looked to be very difficult for the pup—Matteo—to do, given how terrible he must be feeling.

Matteo had his wavering focus on Blue.

"Hi, Matteo," Blue said to the pup. "Don't worry, we're going to help you feel better, okay?"

The pup waved its fluffy tail in reply, releasing a long whine in its throat before it dug its face deeper into the warmth of his father's arm.

In the examination room, Doctor Oswin told Blue that they needed to examine the pup in his human form, because a pup's werewolf form could hide problems their human form could have. Bryan continued to hold his son, Matteo, while he and Doctor Oswin spent about fifteen minutes trying to get the boy to shift back, using every trick in the book: bribing, sweet-talking, even pleading (on the father's part).

After what felt like the hundredth time that Bryan asked his son to try, receiving no response other than a whine from the pup, the father stared up at Blue helplessly.

Putting down the medical chart in her hand, Blue bent her torso and legs until she was eye-level with the pup. She looked at Bryan in question, hand in the air above Matteo's small frame. "May I?"

Bryan nodded, even repositioning his seat on the examination table so that Matteo's face was towards Blue. Gently, Blue used her thumb to lightly carress the pup's small snout, starting just above his wet nose and tracing upwards, stopping at his forehead.

Matteo's eyes opened with a whimper, staring at Blue again.

From the pup's forehead, Blue traced her thumb behind Matteo's flat ear before settling on the pup's jaw—and the pup shook fiercely in his father's hold.

"Matteo, does it hurt here?" Blue asked, pertaining with her thumb to Matteo's mouth.

The werewolf flicked its tail again, as if saying yes.

"Huh." Doctor Oswin spoke behind Blue. "Most likely the fever's from an abscessed tooth."

Bryan looked stunned when Blue made eye-contact with him. "How did you...?"

"I figured there was a reason why your son hasn't been responding vocally, even in werewolf form," Blue explained, straightening her back. "Pups his age tend to keep using their vocal cords, especially when they're hurt."

"I... didn't even realize." Bryan shook his head, frown deepening and eyes looking glossy again. "I feel so stupid."

"Don't. You were smart to take him here," Blue assured, still using a professional tone although with more gentleness. She softened her voice when he addressed the pup again, "Hey, Matteo? Think you can shift back so the doctor can make the pain in your mouth go away?" The pup whined in resistance, but Blue continued, "You're strong like your dad, I know you can do it!"

After a few seconds of intense silence, finally, Matteo shifted back.

The father immediately took the clothes he'd brought in a bag for his son to change into, since Matteo hadn't been wearing anything in his werewolf form.

As Bryan tended to his son, Doctor Oswin gave Blue a meaningful stare. "I'm learning things from you as well."

It made Blue smile at the physician.

The darker thoughts she had last night, asking herself why she stuck around here, seemed to eviscerate from her mind entirely.

-----

Bracket Town had beautiful sunsets. With no buildings taller than a few stories, everyone going home the same time Blue had got an incredible sight of the sun sinking on the horizon, the changing colors of the sky leaving a more fluttering, light feeling in one's chest rather than regret.

Blue was on the way to the diner after confirming dinner plans with Laia. She had been looking straight ahead when she felt that weird, prickly sensation at the nape of her neck again, the feeling going all the way down her spine.

The feeling that someone was staring directly at her again, that something was wrong–

In one striking heartbeat, something clamped over her mouth and her torso.

Before Blue could even realize, she was being dragged into an alleyway.

The adrenaline kicked in as soon as that thought sinked in—I'm in danger.

The deeper into the alleyway she was pulled, the dimmer her surroundings became. Blue immediately fought against the long arms holding her against a broad back, and it became glaringly evident that the grip around her torso and his mouth were as firm as steel—and her feet were lifted off the ground, so she couldn't even dig her feet to the pavement.

With her heartbeat suddenly too loud to her own ears, Blue screamed into the man's hand, kicking her legs around, hopping for some kind of leverage, some sort of weakness she could find and use to wriggle her way out of this man's hold.

"Keep screaming and I'll stick a knife into your neck," a gruff voice said close to Blue's ear, making her flinch away from the stranger's face.

Not that Blue screaming woul help since they all came out muffled from the vice-like hold this man had over her mouth, blunt fingernails and thick digits digging painfully into Blue's cheeks, enough to leave bruises she'd be able to see tomorrow.

If she lived long enough to see tomorrow.

Just as that horrible realization appeared in her brain, just as it dawned upon her that there was a high chance she was going to die in this alleyway—and an even higher chance that this man would r**e her before he gutted her with a knife—something blocked the sight Blur had on the side of a building with exposed brick.

Because Blue had been fighting for her life, she hadn't even noticed the hulking figure that had been close by until the individual—a tall man with huge muscles underneath a tight shirt—was standing right in front of her.

Meanwhile, Blue had no idea what the man holding her looked like; only that he was freakishly strong and smelled like dirt and sweat. This person in front of Blue had an objectively handsome face that was littered with white scars in various places, increasing his level of intimidation trifold.

As if it wasn't enough that Blue was literally being silenced and held against her will at the moment, the way this menacing man stared at Blue nearly made her pee in her pants out of sheer, cold fear.

"Blue Emmetson," the man's drawling voice said, Blue's name coming out in a smirk. "My, my. I knew you'd get your mother's beauty." The man's eyes suddenly flashed gold, and Blue felt her own widen with a stutter of breath that wracked her chest.

These people were werewolves.

Blue tried fighting against the arms holding her again, and it made the werewolf in front of her cackle.

The werewolf's scarred hands—even more scarred than his face—settled on his knees as he levelled with Blue. "I'm not too sure if you know who I am, but I knew your parents well. In fact, my whole family used to be close to them." He flashed his teeth at Blue, and what should have been a grin looked entirely too vitriolic. "Forgive my methods, but I needed to have a heart-to-heart with you, and I'm afraid my previous experiences dealing with your kind have led me to believe that this type of approach is the most effective by far."

This werewolf had said that he and his family knew Blue's parents well, which meant–

The man's face morphed into a chilling expression. "See, Blue, your father stole something that wasn't his. It's something very important to my family, and by extension, my Pack. Funnily enough, I didn't know your father had even stolen it until a werewolf from my Pack told me he'd seen it happen before we hunted your father down, then killed your mother."

Before we hunted your father down, then killed your mother. This werewolf spoke of Blue's parents being killed—of killing Blue's parents—as if it was some random fact he'd read from the footnotes of a textbook; like it wasn't a big deal that they murdered Lloyd and Violet Emmetson, and like it didn't even matter to this man's Pack that they were the reason Blue had become an orphan at the age of thirteen.

ShitShitShit–

Blue stared at the werewolf with wide, unblinking eyes, feeling sick to her stomach. The scarred man looked above Blue's head, nodding at the other person holding Blue.

Slowly, the hand over Blue's mouth slid away, and Blue gasped out quick, stuttering breaths that the werewolf leaning in front of him scoffed at. "You humans always did have such low stamina."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blue managed to say, her voice shaking with every word. "I never knew why my father was killed, I don't know what he stole–"

Without warning, and with frightening speed, the scarred man suddenly wrapped a hand around Blue's neck—his claws drawn, the tips sharp poking against Blue's skin, but not quite pricking through yet. "Nice try, Emmetson. But I think you know exactly what I'm talking about."

With her windpipe being pressed, head reeling from the sudden restriction of air, Blue shook her head frantically.

The werewolf snorted, sneering. "Seems like you Emmetsons always need to do things the hard way."

The hand returned over Blue's mouth and, if possible, it felt even tighter against her face, like the palm and the fingers were now cemented to her skin. The man sentrapping her had done so just in time before a punch landed on Blue's stomach, causing her to let out a scream of agony that was too muffled for anybody to hear, even the people inside the buildings surrounding them.

The scarred man's claws hadn't dropped from around Blue's neck, and now, they dug even deeper. Blue barely felt the droplets of blood rolling down her skin, only registering that her windpipe was going to get crushed at this point, and her lower torso was on fire from the impact of the man's punch.

"I'm going to ask my friend to remove his hand. If you make a fuss, you know what happens, right?" The scarred werewolf said in a venomous, cheerful tone.

With tears now falling freely from her eyes, Blue nodded.

The hand over her mouth dropped again. The scarred werewolf sighed. "Let's try this again," he said. "Where. Is. It?"

Around Blue's neck, the grip of the scarred man's hand loosened, causing Blue to cough as she answered, her voice coming out in between deep heaves of breath, "I don't know." She was already lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.

Blue didn't think werewolves could let out animalistic growls while in human form—but apparently, the scarred man proved this wrong, the sound he made shooting straight down Blue's spin, making her tremble.

"Blue, don't play this game. You know you'll lose."

Blue was full-on sobbing now, except she was trying to keep the sounds in, not wanting to get even more hurt because they'd assume she was making a fuss. "I swear, I don't know. My father didn't even tell me anything specific about the Southern Pack–"

As soon as those last two words were said, the hand returned over Blue's mouth, followed by another hit from the scarred werewolf.

Blue was delirious from the punches to her stomach, her throat feeling like it was being shredded from how loud yet completely muffled her screams were. She'd long stopped fighting against the other werewolf keeping her in place, her body feeling powerless against the assault.

She had never gone through such pain before.

And just when she would back-out, the claws drawing blood from her neck changed their target—travelling downwards to the left side of her waist.

"Shame," The scarred werewolf said with a disappointed sigh, piercing through the pained fogginess in Blue' head. "I rarely see humans as pretty as you." The werewolf might've been smirking at Blue. Blue wasn't sure, her eyesight was coming and going. "If things were different, I would have used my hands on you in a different way. But, unfortunately, you keep lying. So, I have no choice but to resort to this."

Then, the claws started sinking in to the soft flesh of Blue's waist.