New Possibilities
1440 Words
CHARLES'S POV:
The corners of the photo are blurry. Erik must have snapped the picture just in time before Mike and Lawson turned towards him. A woman with chestnut hair matted around her long pale ivory neck is standing by a metal bar window. Her complexion is unnatural. It isn't pale, more of a sickly green color with black veins running down the sides of her forearms.
The woman is wearing a stained white hospital gown that reaches right below her calves. She is holding something in her hand. I try to make out what it is, but Erik is in my way. "Let me see your phone, Erik," I command.
Erik hands the phone over so I can get a better look. She is holding a dagger with a wooden handle. There are initials carved in the center, right next to her palm.
"What the f**k is this? Do you see it, Erik?"
Erik offers to take a better look. I allow him to turn to take the phone back, but he shifts the phone sideways so the three of us can see. Jake quietly observes in the background. As for Erik and me, we are much closer now. I have taken him on as my new Beta in command sense this s**t went down with Jake. Erik is still my security man too, but when times need, I have also discovered he doesn't make too bad of a bodyguard since he lost his mate.
By the looks of his biceps and pecs, I can tell you he's been spending more time at the gym working out his problems. I guess some of that s**t is true, but since he lost his mate, his demeanor has changed. Who wouldn't? His mood has hardened. The moment my brother served his mate's head on a platter in our office, the smile on his face left along with half his personality. Poof. Gone. But Erik is still a good man.
Erik speaks to no one unless it is necessary now. He has traded in his suites for a black leather jacket and his pinstriped shirts for cotton ones. Sometimes Erik smells like cigarettes, and sometimes he doesn't. The one thing he always remembers to do is shave. He has a baby-face, and he always keeps me informed on what Pearl is doing. Erik is my right-hand man.
"They are initials," Erik confirms, trying to blow the screen up as large as it will go.
"Can you read them?" Jake asks curiously.
"It's too small on my screen," Erik says with frustration.
"Well, that's interesting." Erik points out with his long fingers.
Past Erik's chewed fingernail, in the far left corner, are two beady eyes. We didn't see it at first because the edges of the image were blurry, but the more we stared, "Is that who I think it is?" Jake asks in shock.
"Pita." Both Erik and I say simultaneously.
RICHARD'S POV:
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
Standing at the doorway was a woman only seventeen, with chestnut brown hair tucked loosely in a bun and deep lavender eyes. Her curves are set in all the right places, but I can tell Mrs. Biddleworth has been running her to the ground.
Her clothes are ragged, and her skin is dirty. Beneath it all, she smells like vanilla and a hint of buttercream. She is as Wicca ready to blossom into her prime. Her rosy cheeks flare with anger and fear. She is prepared to accept the slap from Mrs. Biddleworth. For what, not knowing where the boy was?
She does now. Let's see what she does.
I fold my arms and lean into the door to see what Mrs. Biddleworth will do to the woman. Mrs. Biddleworth raises her hand in the air, ready to slap her across the face and yells, "I hope he was worth it, you fool!"
"I said, no!" A boy lashes out from a far corner.
Mrs. Biddleworth's attempts to move her hand forward, but cannot because her hand freezes in midair. Biddleworth's face becomes crimson red as she stares into the woman's darkening eyes. "It's okay, Malcolm." She reassures through her clamped teeth, "I'm okay. Isn't that right, Mrs. Biddleworth?"
"Malcolm, hmm. Oh, looky, it's him. It's our sweet boy."
"Our sweet boy? Seriously? You are not letting this one go, are you?"
"Nope," I smirk and watch the young woman's palm twitch. "Hmm, she's a bit interesting too. I better keep my eye on her too."
"Richard, you are giving me a f*****g headache."
I ignore Lucian and watch Mrs. Biddleworth rear back and attempt again to slap the woman with more force.
"She is stuck. Hmm, I wonder which one is doing the magic. How... interesting."
"You no good, low life, useless girl! I am so sick of you!"
My boy, Malcolm, stomps forward, his fist clamped by his side. He is ready to protect this young woman at all costs.
"You know what I find interesting, Lucian?"
"I don't really care, but I guess you are going to tell me, anyway."
"Oh, you better believe I am." I brag.
"Ugh, what is it?"
"Malcolm was with us outside when he heard something and took off. It was Biddleworth with this woman. This woman must be pretty special to him."
"Eww, lovers?" Lucian gags.
"No, you i***t! Family!"
"Why do you care how these two feel about each other? Ugh, nevermind. She is more leverage."
"Bingo."
"I swear if you don't stop right now, I will make sure you don't -"
Mrs. Biddleworth is about to continue when she glimpses of me in the corner of her eye. Several of the teens mumble in the back. Mrs. Biddleworth smooths her frazzled hair and the front of her dress with the palm of her hands. "Richard! I-I mean, Mr. Rupard! I, uh, didn't know you were here."
"Oh, I know you didn't," I answer honestly.
"That was smooth." Lucian snickers.
"Nice set of lungs, kid." I nod and walk past Mrs. Biddleworth to check out the food hall and all the possible little shits I could build a pack.
"You seriously have a death wish!"
Malcolm rolls his eyes. "You again."
"D-Destiny and M-Malcolm, t-they were just messing around." Mrs. Biddleworth stammers and attempts to push them back towards the seating area.
"Destiny and Malcolm, nice names." I walk over towards Destiny while rubbing the stubbles on my chin. I check her out from every inch of her body for tattoos, piercing, mating marks, anything that would tell her story a bit more. "Seems like you had a bit of a mess going on in here. Are lunches normally this eventful?"
Malcolm walks between us, blocking my view and challenges." Why do you care?"
"Because I own this joint. That's why, you little shit."
"Smooth. Real smooth."
"You own this place? Really? He giggles. "And you left... this lady in charge? Damn, you're either dumb as a bag of rocks or really pathetic." Malcolm spits on the floor and challenges.
"Oh, Lucian! I think I am going to love this boy so, so much!"
"Speak for yourself," Lucian answers dryly.
"He just needs some love, guidance, and reassurance."
"Ew. Just Ewww."
"God, you two are such Douches!" Malcolm grabbed the top of his head in disbelief. "You do know that I can still hear you guys, right?"
Malcolm slides the sleeves back on his blue zip-up hoodie and opens the palm of his hand — a black orb forms with swirls of grey and blood-red in the middle.
Destiny warns, "Malcolm, stop it!"
Mrs. Biddleworth trembles, while I stand in front of Malcolm and smile ever so calmly.
"Listen, kid. You are smart, but you have a lot to learn. Screaming your way through life ain't going to work with me. Being a little s**t ain't either. I am an Alpha with more money than your puny little brain could fathom. I also have more resources that could help you out if you need them for your girl here too."
"She's not my girl. She's my sister."
"Whatever. Do you think I care how you love Destiny? No, I don't. This joint is mine, but I came here for other reasons. Might even find me a few pack members to adopt while I am here, so play your cards right you're a free man, and will become a part of my pack but if you f**k me over..."
"What will you do, If I screw you over, huh? Cry?" He giggles.
"Is that a risk you are willing to find out? Up to you, kid." I pat him on the shoulders and spit on the floor right on top of his pile before walking away.
"See ya around, Destiny," I yell over my shoulder. "I have a building to check out."
"Hey, Biddleworth, I am feeling pretty good right about now. Come with me for a few minutes. I need to take care of a few things."
"Y-yes, sir!"
"Mmm, love it when they call me, sir!"
"Fuck."
"You'll be fine, Lucian. Biddleworth will be a quick lay. In and out. Done."
"Just fuck."
- Writer
