Her jilted Alpha

Death of an Alpha

A warm mid-august evening in an alleyway in Blackstone city.

*Thor*

I can’t believe that I am going to die because of a damned old watch.

I, Thor Whiteclaw, the ninth of my bloodline to be the Alpha of the Thornback pack, try to comfort myself with the fact that the truth of my idiocy will go to the grave with me.

Although at this particular moment, any sort of comfort is difficult to find. The rogues attacking me are indeed rough, two of them tugging off my boots, another my jacket, while the fourth struggles to unhook the watch chain from my waistcoat button.

I do find it rather weird that the thief is now taking such care with his endeavor, when only moments ago he had hit me so hard to the side of my head that it had left me temporarily senseless.

Which might have resulted in my decision to stand my ground over the damn watch, or maybe I am just too stubborn for my own good.

Without much of a fuss I had handed over my wallet and Alpha signet ring as soon as I realized I couldn’t change into my wolf and properly defend myself. I am not a fool. Four to one odds aren’t good, even worse when stuck in human form. Money and rings can be replaced. The punch to my temple had come about because I hadn't surrendered the items quickly enough for the ringleader's satisfaction.

Someone at the bar must have spiked my drink with some kinda potion, wolfsbane maybe. Most likely one of these guys, planning to rob me.

“We want the watch, now !” The bastard had said with a growl.

The watch is an heirloom. It has been handed down through four generations. The engraved crest on the cover has been worn thin from one Alpha after another rubbing and worrying his thumb over it when faced with a difficult decision. I had been a pup of just fifteen when my father, on his deathbed, in a moment of rare lucidity, had placed it against my palm and folded his fingers over it. “Your legacy. Guard it well. Make me proud".

So to the oafs surrounding me in the dark alleys with the fog swirling about, I had stupidly announced. “I fear I have to say no, I have handed over all I intend. The watch stays with me”.

I might have answered differently had I realized they would have no qualms gutting me. No, I bloody well would not have. Two of them are in their Wolf form, and they attacked me with claws and teeth. They have gotten me in the thigh, the side, the shoulder and the arm. In human form I am not invincible and my healing much slower.

The blows following from hard knuckles and booted feet of the two in human form, when I dropped to my knees had taken me down completely, left me lying there in the dirt and grime, feeling my warm blood soaking through what remains of my clothing and turning cold. I am feeling rather pathetic, a true born Alpha of one of the strongest packs, taken down by four meager rogues.

The edges of my vision have long been darkening until all I can see is the grubby hands closing around the treasured watch.

"Got it !” The bastard cries.

"No !” I scream through the pulsing thrum rushing between my ears. I must have screamed through my mouth as well because the thief widens his eyes just as my tightly balled fist, backed by whatever lingering strength remains to me, lands a solid punch to the bastard's jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone cracking echoes through the night just before claws once again slides through skin, meat and muscle.

"Oi ! What the devil are your mongrels up to ?” A voice suddenly yells.

The men freeze as the demanding shout reach them, bouncing off the walls of the surrounding buildings.

“Christ, it's Gin. Let's get the bloody hell outta here”. The leader mutters as though his jaw is no longer properly hinged.

I hear their thundering feet and leaving paws fading away in the distance as they race off. Another sound follows, softer footsteps but more hurried. I become vaguely aware of a presence, someone kneeling beside me, gentle hands touching me with care.

“Ah, hell, you're a bloody mess”.

An angel's voice. I don’t think she is swearing, but rather making a truthful statement regarding my blood-soaked clothes. Where has she come from ? Is she a companion to the fellow named Gin ? Has he gone after the rogues ? I wish I could see her more clearly but the darkness is closing in on me.

“My ... watch”. I manage to mumble.

She leans nearer and brings with her the scent of ... beer ? “Pardon ?”

"Watch.” The bastard dropped it. I heard it fall. In desperation, I pat the ground at my side. I need to find it.

Then she takes my hand, cradles it within hers, long slender fingers closing around mine. “There's no watch, pet. Nothing here”.

There has to be. I am supposed to pass it on to my son someday. But there will be no son now.

No heir. No other kids. No mate.

Only death. In a rotten-smelling, mucked-up alleyway that has suddenly turned frigid, causing ice to form in my veins, to leak through to my bones. The only warmth offered is where she touches me.

I tighten my hold, hoping her heat will spread through me, that it will give me strength. I can’t die, not like this, not without a fight.

I can’t give up. Not until I find Summer.