Alpha Luke Hemmingway
1502 Words
Tristan sat in his father’s office, a bored look on his face. The man had sent for him almost four hours ago and had still not come in to see him yet.
The young man was upset at that. He could have been having an exciting conversation with an interesting stranger instead of sitting in the huge, silent office, doing practically nothing.
His thoughts strayed towards the girl and her silver hair, and he wondered if it was her true color of if she had dyed it. As he thought about that, his contemplations turned more carnal… more dirty, humorous even.
He wondered if her carpet matched the drapes.
Tristan groaned in frustration. He barely knew the girl, and she was human, for crying out loud.
Human!
He was a werewolf, and from the look of things, the girl and her family had no idea what they had relocated into. You see, the Bloomingdale Valley Pack was one that was starting to take on a contemporary culture of association. Alpha Luke Hemmingway, Tristan’s father, believed that wolves could dwell with humans, learning from them, benefitting from them, so long as they kept their identity hidden… and so far, it seemed like his ideas were working, but of course, it meant that wolves had to be extra careful in order not to do anything to rouse human suspicions.
For Tristan, he didn’t really know what to think of the idea though, but whether it was good or bad was honestly of no concern to him. He wasn’t the firstborn after all, and so he wasn’t saddled with the responsibility of taking over from his father.
He was free to do whatever he wanted.
Like, walk out of the office right now and go in search of the human with silver hair.
No one would care anyway… no one ever did.
His father barged into the office in that moment, a murderous expression on his face as he bellowed, “Where is your brother, Tristan?”
Tristan smirked bitterly.
So he had been summoned because of his brother.
The young man stood up tiredly. “I’m not Atticus’s keeper, dad, so I don’t know where he is.” He walked slowly towards the door, pausing as though he had suddenly remembered something. “Oh, that reminds me, dad,” He started. “The next time you want to summon me to come wait in your office for four hours, kindly remember that phones exist for a reason and call me instead.” With that, he stormed out of the office.
Luke Hemmingway sighed deeply, walking to his desk and collapsing in it tiredly.
He didn’t know where he was going wrong with his children.
He had lost his wife — his soul mate— when they were just little boys and heaven knows that everything that he did for them… everything he was doing for them was all for their own good.
Even if they couldn’t see it yet.
Of course, in his righteous consciousness, he failed to see that he was favoring one son over the other, failed to see that he was spending much time with one, much to the detriment of the other. Luke Hemmingway failed to realise that men were just little boys who had eventually grown up… and that no matter how fast they grew up or how old they became, they would always still crave his love… th-that they would always crave his attention and his praise.
Oh, but Luke Hemmingway didn’t do love.
He could do all things but love. You see, the death of his mate had completely shattered the old man, he barely saw reason to live, and was still hanging in there just so he could finish training Atticus, his next in line. For the Alpha, love was for the weak, which was why he had trained his sons to do without his –in the hope that then, they wouldn’t care much when they lost someone else’s.
Luke paced about in the study, his heart becoming heavy as his thoughts slowly drifted towards his dead soul mate, Lois. This was why he was always on the run; working till he had completely worn himself out, ordering people about, being productive… because the little break he took always somehow managed to bring him back to this state.
The grief-stricken state.
He missed Lois.
He missed her so much… missed her every single day. The poor man slowly counted the seconds, minutes, hours, days and months, looking forward to the day when the Moon Goddess would finally reunite them again.
The door to his study opened, and in walked his first son and man of the hour, Atticus Hemmingway, a bored look on his handsome, well-chiseled face as he stood there, looking like this was the last place he wanted to be.
The old man looked up at his eldest son absentmindedly, silently wondering when he had even settled into his chair for a brief moment before he exploded. “Where the hell were you, Atticus? Did you know that the entire council was awaiting you to begin the quarterly meeting? I can’t believe you didn’t show up.” The old man stood up, banging his fists against the desk in a way that would have left even the most stubborn of spirits alarmed, but Atticus stood there, totally unfazed. “What do you think the elders are going to say? You completely disregarded and totally disrespected my authority, and that is unacceptable, Atticus. Unacceptable!” He boomed.
“Sorry dad,” He drawled out tiredly, his tone and the slight slur on his tongue indicating that he was drunk. “I had much more important things to attend to.”
Atticus was the black sheep of the Hemmingway family, stubborn just like his father, if not more.
You see, the young man had no interest in being alpha or in leading the Bloomindale Valley Pack. All Atticus wanted to do was paint, and he had tried everything to get his father to understand, but the old man just didn’t want to get it.
“SO YOU CONSIDER DRINKING WITH FRIENDS MORE IMPORTANT THAN FULFILLING YOUR DUTIES TO YOUR FAMILY? YOU’RE A f*****g DISAPPOINTMENT ATTICUS, THAT’S WHAT YOU ARE!” Luke bellowed angrily, too far gone to consider the implications of his words and how much he was hurting his son. All he wanted to do was make his son look more responsible, h-he wanted to make his boy the topic of envy among his peers, wanted to give the boy the opportunity to hold his head high and proud wherever he found himself, but the foolish boy was clouded in his world of paints and canvasses.
The young man just stood there, the subtle clenching of his jaw being the only reaction he gave to his father’s harsh words. Chuckling slightly, he said, “Alright, Alpha… if you’re done lecturing me about being a disappointment, may I be excused now? I’m afraid I’m not quite done living below your expectations.” He ended, chuckling dryly again. His father did not say a single word, so the young man turned to leave.
“You know what, Atticus?” Came the soft words, halting the young alpha-to-be in place. “If you step out of this study room and out the pack house, consider it the last time you will ever be here, and do not come back.”
Atticus could feel his wolf fight against his consciousness to take over, but he fought against it and won, still feeling every bit calm. “How about I do you one even better, father?” He asked, his voice just as soft as he turned to face the old man who he shared so many characteristics with and yet, did not look like at all. “I, Atticus Christopher Hemmingway, reject the role of Alpha-in-line, and renounce my affiliation to the Bloomindale Valley Pack—”
“No! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ATTICUS?” Luke cut in, his eyes widening in despair as his son collapsed to the ground from the sheer power of his proclamation.
It was already too late.
A single tear slipped down the old man’s face as he felt the link that connected his son to him mentally tear off. He watched the young man struggle to his feet, as he whispered over and over, “What have you done, Atticus? What have you done?”
Atticus smiled sadly at his father, his own eyes wet with tears. “It was the only way, father.” He whispered softly.
And just like that, he was gone.
Alpha Luke Hemmingway just stood there, too frozen in the moment to go after his son, and too consumed by too many emotions to know what step to take or even how to react. He hung his head in shame and another tear managed to slip past the steel-cages he called eyes,
Goddess! What had he done?
- Writer
