The Human Alpha

Chapter Nine – Defending The Indefensible.

Chapter Nine – Defending The Indefensible.

Alpha Del’s Point of View.

“It needs to be put down, like a rabid dog!” Farmer Giles bellows, his face bright red with anger, as he bellows through a bull horn in the direction of the pack house from the top of the lane.

I let out a frustrated sigh, it has been five days since Stinker munched on his prized sheepdog, and the middle-aged man is still spitting walnuts. What is worse, he has called for back-up and the neighbourhood nosy parkers, also known as the neighbourhood watch, they have congregated around the pack entrance every day, armed with placards and their voices, exercising their First Amendment rights to protest. Not that they call the right to protest the First Amendment here in the UK, but you get my drift.

Three days ago, I had to call King Asher, after one of the protesters decided to not be as peaceful as the rest and threw a rock at Gillian and Dave on their way back from the supermarket with the weekly grocery shopping. Thankfully they were okay, after all, even though they are Omegas, a thrown rock is not going to do any real damage. I just wanted to let him know I possibly need some help to defuse this situation, I know he has special envoys that he uses in these types of situations. He told me he would send Hannah, his cousin, and main negotiator with the government and royal families in a few days to visit and help me defuse this situation. I am not saying I don’t trust the King, but honestly, I was kind of hoping she could come now, but he insisted that things would be fine until she got here. Hey, who am I to argue, he is the one with the prophetic gifting, so I guess I just have to wait and trust him.

“She will be here soon,” Apollo my wolf tells me.

My wolf must be feeling a little anxious himself because he sounds happy about that. In fact, I would say he was almost giddy with excitement, which is unusual. For an Alpha wolf, he is normally quite laid back, in that we are a perfect pairing.

Stinker sits at the table, he is looking as guilty as sin, and I just know the old lone wolf feels bad about the situation he has landed us all in. I also know he is getting itchy feet and wants to get out of the pack house and back on the road, doing whatever it is he does when he is not eating prize winning sheepdogs. However, I have put my foot down, and for once used my ‘Alpha’s’ command to keep him around the pack, because it is too dangerous for him out there alone. He may be a challenge, and cause us some difficulties, but he put his neck on the line and saved me, and the pack, so no matter what I will keep him as safe as I can, and I will always defend him, even if sometimes his actions are indefensible.

“Outside,” Stinker grumbles looking longingly in the direction of the trees just beyond the farm area of the pack.

“Stinker I am sorry buddy, but it is just too dangerous for you at the moment. Some of those guys have shotguns, and I am unsure if the cartridges are laced with silver. If they catch you heading outside, they could take aim. It is a risk I am not willing to take,” I gently tell him.

Sometimes it is like talking to a kid, when dealing with the old rogue, his mind is not what it should be.

Stinker looks down at the table and huffs slightly, but he doesn’t argue with me about it. Honestly, he is the most placid feral rogue you could ever meet. If only he could get over his dog eating habits.

“You are good,” he states, and I respond with a small smile. I know he is struggling, but this forced confinement is a result of his actions, and the only way I can keep him safe at the moment. I am not sure if his comment is a reminder to himself, or to let me know how he feels. It is difficult to read him and understand what he is attempting to communicate at times, given his short statements.

Gillian sets a large tuna on rye in front of me, and I take a bite. It is not quite as good as the deli near my home pack in South Carolina, but it is damn near close to it.

Stinker scrunches up his face, at the smell of the fish sandwich, clearly, he is not a fan.

“It’s okay Stinker I got you a corned beef and potato pasty heating in the oven,” she smiles down at him.

The old rogue grunts and nods his head, which I choose to believe means ‘thank you’. I devour my sandwich in three bites, then stand up from the farmhouse pine table, heading out to the mud room to place my work boots on that wait for me at the door, because I know better than to bring mud into Gillian's immaculately clean kitchen.

Yeah, I may be the Alpha of this pack, and Anna may be the Beta, but Gillian is the queen of this kitchen, and if we bring in a scintilla of mud, she gives us a withering look that I defy even the old queen Chloe not to be fearful of, and nothing scares that woman.

I pull on my boots which the locals call Wellies but are just green rubber boots, and head out towards the barn that holds the fertiliser and begin to load the muck spreader. I would normally wait a few weeks before adding the foul-smelling manure to the ground, but I am hoping the stench will keep the protesters at bay, or at least lessen their number.

As I drive around the field, I smell smoke coming from where the protesters are gathered, however, it is a lot stronger than just the fire barrel they have out there to keep warm. As I look over the fields, I see a column of smoke rising into the air, the orange and red haze of fire licking towards the sky.

“Anna, we have a fire in the grain barn!” I link with my beta.

Fuck, this protest has just turned very nasty. I need the king’s envoy, and I need her NOW!