The Alpha's Retribution

Chapter 1: Wasteland

ALPHA JAXOM HILL'S POV

I watched from the passenger side window as the Arizona landscape passed by in a blur of red waste and brown scrub.

Goddess, there’s nothing out here, I thought sourly, rubbing at the pulsing ache behind my temple. I was still hungover from the plane ride into Flagstaff, and the pothole-ridden highway wasn’t doing my headache any favors.

“How do you do it, Eisen? How do you live out here full-time without going insane?” I grumbled, reclining the seat back and stretching out my cramped legs.

“I don’t live out here.” My half-brother’s pale green eyes never strayed from the highway. “Flagstaff and Dennehotso are worlds apart.”

“Same difference.”

He shot me a withering look. “To answer your question, I like my solitude. Flagstaff suits me. It has everything I need without being suffocating.”

“Yeah, nothing suffocates a man like a running flow of cash, booze, and p***y,” I threw back sardonically.

Most Beta wolves who ran in my circles were as outgoing as their Alphas, pack leaders in their own right. Eisen and I, on the other hand, were completely different animals. Our father’s Alpha blood ran through both of our veins, and that was where the similarities came to an abrupt halt.

I was His Royal Highness, Jaxom Hill, Alpha of Dustmaw, King of Nevada and Arizona. And Eisen was, well, Eisen. Pack Beta and resident nice guy. The one in the plaid shirt who drove an old 80s pickup and acted about three decades older than his thirty-four years.

I played hard and worked little. Eisen worked all the time, and his idea of a wild Saturday night was sitting down for a beer at the local brewery. I lived in the Regal Wolf Skylofts and Casino, ruling from my seat in Las Vegas, Nevada. Eisen quietly oversaw pack business from Flagstaff, Arizona.

“Hey, just be thankful it’s me and not you. Like it or not, you rule over a large territory. The only feasible way to maintain order is-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I sighed, unfolding the pair of aviator sunglasses that were hooked to the collar of my shirt. “The only feasible way to maintain order is for me to rule from my seat in Las Vegas, and for you to maintain the pack lands further east. So you’ve said before. I heard you the first time.”

“Good to know you’re actually listening.”

I scratched at the five o’clock shadow lining my jaw. “You don’t like the way I’m running things.”

It wasn’t a question because I knew it was true.

Eisen snorted and shook his head. “Do you want me to speak as your Beta or your brother?”

“Well, this is you we’re talking about, so when aren’t you a Beta?”

“Apologies, Alpha, for doing your job for you,” he bit back irritably, shedding his characteristic stoicism. “Somebody has to keep Dustmaw running in your absence.”

“Careful, brother. You’re about to cross a line.” My tone was casual, but the threat behind it wasn’t.

I didn’t have to ask to know that Eisen disapproved of my lifestyle, and the fact of the matter was, I didn’t care. I was a king, and I intended to live like one.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for,” he replied stiffly, regaining some of his lost composure. “Things have been pretty tense around here.”

“I can see that. A shift would probably do you some good. Care to tell me why we’re driving three hours into the desert when we could have just run or, better yet, taken the helicopter?”

“I wanted the chance to talk to you, to prepare you. Dropping in on a helicopter wouldn’t be a good look after everything that’s happened. The Navajo view us as outsiders, and the attack on the Ahtone girl was more than it may seem at first glance. It’s important that you make an appearance. For the sake of the pack, I’d ask that you stay until this is resolved, Jaxom. I’m concerned that things might get out of hand.”

“All right,” I yawned languidly, tucking my hands behind my head. “But if I’m going to plan for an extended stay in Shitsville, you need to fill me in as to why.”

Eisen looked like he wanted to say something but held his tongue, keeping it all business. “Two nights ago, Trinity Ahtone was attacked by a rogue wolf while walking home from her job at a convenience market in Apache County. The Ahtones live on Navajo land in Dennehotso, Arizona, and as you know, our territory extends to the state borders of Utah and Colorado. They fall under our protection, and their eldest daughter was raped, marked, and brutalized on our watch.”

“I gathered that much. You still haven’t told me why I’m here. You’ve put down rogues before. So, why did you call in the big guns?”

“This isn’t just any rogue,” my brother replied darkly. “We have reason to believe that Trinity Ahtone was attacked and marked by Warren Nelson.”

I lurched upright in my seat as a savage growl tore from my throat. “What is that bastard doing on my land?”

Warren had served as my father’s Beta before he’d been publicly stripped of the title and exiled from Dustmaw land on pain of death. The day of his banishment was still vividly imprinted in my mind’s eye. I’d been a mere boy of seven back then, but it was an event that had quickly catapulted me into manhood.

I’d watched my father mount the platform with bated breath. Even at that young age, I could tell he was carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. Warren had been more than my father’s Beta. He’d been like an adopted son, taken in by our family after the untimely death of his mother.

Tonya Nelson’s dying wish had been that her son’s care remain within the pack. My father had taken the request personally, and seen to it that the teenager was provided for, away from the reach of social services. When Warren came of age, he’d promoted him to the rank of Beta, a great accomplishment for a wolf who’d only just reached the ripe age of eighteen. Perhaps that swift rise to power had contributed to his eventual downfall.

“Warren Nelson,” my father had thundered, glowering down at the disgraced young man with a look of utter betrayal. “You were brought to stand trial before the Dustmaw tribunal council of Nevada and Arizona on the charges of statutory rape and desertion. Your King and council have ruled that you are indeed guilty of the crimes laid before you. The punishment for such heinous offenses is death. However, your victim has asked that your life be spared. In light of her plea, and out of the deep regard I held for your mother, I have seen fit to reduce your sentence.”

I’d watched as Warren lifted his gaze to meet my father’s wrath, his greasy hair hanging in limp strands over vacant eyes.

“Thank you, f-”

“Hold your tongue or you’ll lose it, in addition to your teeth!” my father had roared to an echoing of startled gasps and hushed whispers.

At the mention of Extraction, Warren’s face had grown visibly pale. It was rare for such an archaic punishment to be dealt out in a display of modern justice. The sight of a half-shifted wolf, burning in silver shackles as his incisors and claws were ripped out with pliers, was a lot for pack members to stomach. Even the most hardened of veterans looked on with grim countenances.

To perform such a punishment in front of children was practically unheard of, but my father had chosen to make an example out of the rogue wolf. My brow furrowed at the mere memory of it. I had to admit, he’d certainly succeeded in conveying his message. Derision would not be tolerated in Dustmaw territory, not while Adrien Hill was King.

True to his word, he had sent Warren staggering off into the desert with blood dripping from his swollen lips and ravaged fingertips. That was the last I’d seen of the man, and I hadn’t heard the name spoken aloud in eighteen years. Eisen was named my father’s new Beta within the week, making him the youngest wolf to earn the rank in our pack’s history. It was a bold move, one that instantly marked me as the Alpha’s future successor.

“It takes less than twenty-five minutes to drive from Dennehotso to the Utah state line,” Eisen reasoned, calling my distant thoughts back to the present. “Perhaps Warren strayed into pack land without knowing it. Whatever the cause, it doesn't matter now. A young woman has been attacked, and this is our mess to clean up, Jaxom. Half of our philanthropic missions benefit the Navajo Nation, everything from building water treatment plants to sending disaster relief aid. If this gets out, they could go to the press.”

“And tell them what?” I scoffed, throwing up my hands. “Tell the world that their reservation shares its territory with the largest werewolf pack in the Southwestern United States? Who the hell would that benefit?”

“I’m not saying that they would out us. All I’m saying is that we’ve shared an amicable relationship with the Navajo for the past century. I intend to do what I can to keep the peace, by whatever means necessary.”

“And how would you propose we do that? I doubt they’ll take kindly to our pack scouring the Four Corners region for a dangerous fugitive. Furthermore, we would have to obtain permission from King Roman and King Elijah to cross into their lands.”

“Already done,” Eisen confided smugly, reaching over me to pull the necessary documents out of the SUV’s glove box. “These arrived by runner wolf this morning.”

I sifted through the paperwork, giving a curt nod before shoving it back into the compartment between my knees.

“Fine, but this is pack business. When we find Warren, we’re handling this in-house.”

“The Ahtones are well known in the area. Word will get out that their daughter was attacked, if it hasn’t already. The locals are going to want justice, Jaxom.”

“Justice is exactly what I plan to serve. I’ll even send them Warren’s head as a trophy, as soon as his lips are permanently sealed,” I added with a feral grin.

“Your pack, your rules,” Eisen conceded, locking his gaze on the sun-bleached highway that spanned out before us.

“That’s right, big brother. My pack, my rules, my retribution.”