Chapter 6 Zack
Chapter six
Zack
I throw my shoulders back and clench my hands as the alpha’s scent thickens in my nose.
Months have passed since I stalked along the fence line in the scorching sun, waiting for a challenge that didn’t come; since I climbed the chain links and threw myself into the crowd of alphas.
And this one standing in front of me clubbed me down with a bench seat.
Broke my arm.
I snarl and dash forward.
“Shit!” he grinds out, catching me by the shoulders and bringing his knee up to guard his stomach. “Stop, you mad dog.” Surprisingly, he doesn’t punch back or snarl.
I wrestle his hold, senses tuned for his every move. “Zack,” I hiss.
The alpha breaks free and backs away. “Zack? That’s your name?”
“Yes.”
His black eyes widen. “Damn, you can speak?” He touches his palm to his chest. “Alhedy. Keith Alhedy.” Gingerly he holds both hands up in front of him. Defending, but not challenging. “Let’s take this down a notch, yeah?”
Al-dy. Fist clenched, I hold up my healed arm, which is paler and has less hair than the other. Feels weaker too. “Broke it.”
He laughs, but the strained edge tells me how uneasy he is. “Fuck. Trust you to remember that part. Yeah, I broke your arm because you charged us. Remember all the fighting?”
I’ve calmed down enough to realize my back’s to a doorway which could open any second. Rumbling with warning, I slide across the wall to the nearest corner, next to a metal toilet, keeping my eyes on the dangerous alpha. He’s saying I attacked first.
“Challenge. Asked fight.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, the skin stained with black marks like the art on Cal-ee’s arm.
“You think we challenged you?” The alpha groans.
“I suppose one of the guys stuck his hand through the fence or some shit.” He growls out a word Rickon never lets me say, and shakes his head. “No challenge.”
I lower my hands warily. At least this man seems smart enough to understand my words. “Al-dy?” I mutter.
He shows his teeth, and I measure the tightness of his lips to check it’s a smile, not a snarl. “Yeah. I’m Alhedy. Maybe ‘Al’ would be easier for you?”
“Al.”
He whistles and leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can’t believe you’re talking this much. Look, we’re going to be living together.” He gestures to the stacked beds. “Can we agree not to fight each other?”
His words trigger a furious refusal in my chest. “No! Live with ohm-ga. Mine.”
“Then how did you end up back in prison?”
I look around at the four solid walls and feel a stab of pain as if he had hit me. I don’t belong here anymore.
“Sorry to break it to you, Zack, but this is prison, and you’re stuck here until someone gets you out or you do your time.”
I shake my head. “Didn’t kill.”
His brow furrows, and one corner of his mouth lifts. “Sure hope not. But can we agree not to fight each other? ’Cause that could get real messy.” Al holds his hand out. It’s a move I’ve seen Ri-ckon do with strangers but could be a trick to get me into close range.
I point to my arm in reply and wrinkle my nose.
“Geez, okay.” He rolls his eyes like he can’t decide where to look. “I’m sorry I broke your arm.”
I stiffen. “Sorry?”
His nostrils flare as he sighs. “This is like talking to a fucking kindergartner. Sorry means not doing it again, and also that you regret doing something. Like, feeling sad inside because of your actions.”
Regret; it’s a new word. He feels sad for breaking my arm and won’t do it again? Should I be sorry for the things I’ve done? I tip my head as I study the dangerous alpha. Even if he won’t hurt me, I don’t like him.
I narrow my gaze. “What if I kill you?”
Al straightens, and the alpha aura around him flares in response to my threat. “Not a good idea. I might kill you first, or, if you manage it, you’ll be stuck in here forever. For years.”
A shiver crawls down my spine. I can’t stay here.
“Ri-ckon said no kill.” So did Cal-ee, but I prefer White Mine’s instructions.
The alpha nods and steps closer. “Sounds like Rickon’s a smart man. Getting caught killing is no good.”
Something about Al’s words sits uneasily with me, but I can’t put my finger on it. He extends his hand again. “So, how about a truce? You don’t kill me, and I don’t kill you, and we try to survive this devil’s playground? ’Cause let me tell you, I’ve got enough enemies in this place.”
I rock forward cautiously and extend my hand, tensed for action if his words and intentions don’t match. Equally as careful, he reaches out and our palms meet. After a quick shake he releases me and steps back. “Good. That’s a promise, which means you don’t change your mind.”
I suck my lip in and chew on it, so many ideas zipping through my mind I can’t keep up. Regret, attacks, loss of my pack, deals. Too many new things to figure out. Most of all, I need to survive.
With a hum, I tell him, “No challenge, no fight.” My fingers drift to my throat where the collar normally sits. My neck feels empty without it. Maybe White Mine knew I wasn’t ready for so many ideas in my head, and the collar kept some of them away.
“You want the top bunk or the bottom?” Al asks, pointing to the beds.
The bottom looks too much like a closed-in cell, so I vault up the few parallel rails to the top. The position’s defensible from below, and the bars rattle when I climb, so he won’t be able to reach me without some noise warning.
“Suits me since my knee isn’t the best,” Al says, grabbing a pillow and sitting on the floor where we can see each other.
One idea keeps circling in my head, and I can’t get rid of it, so I ask, “Same prison here?” I’m sure we traveled for a much longer time when Red broke me out.
Al shakes his head. “No. That was Darinian, and this is Laversham.” He sniffs and scratches his beard.
“Bet you’re confused because I’m here. I got transferred because .
. .” The alpha glances up at me and chuckles.
“Well, guess none of that story would make sense to you. But I bet they were hoping I wouldn’t survive being roommates with a feral alpha.
” He shakes his head and mutters quietly, “Let’s hope I can. ”
I cross my legs on the bed and look around. The gray blanket is thin and scratchy under my hands, making me miss the plush one from home that smells like my pack. I hadn’t even realized how much of their scent constantly drenched the house until I found myself here without it.
“What do? Go?” I ask, rolling a loose thread between my fingers.
Al points to the door, and then mimes eating from a bowl. “We go out there for meals and yard time, then come back here to sleep. If we survive.” He shrugs. “Boring.”
“How will Cal-ee find me?”
His eyes narrow in on me, dark and intense. “Who’s Callee?”
“Alpha. Decides on prison or not prison.”
“Huh? Like a judge?”
Judge? No, that was the man who sat in the tall box. What other words did people use for Cal-ee in that formal room full of chairs and pictures? “Pros-cute. Decide jail. Says the law.”
Al laughs. “You’ve got puzzles running in your brain at full speed, dontcha, Zack? I’m guessing you’re talking about a lawyer.”
I brighten. That sounds familiar. “Law-yeah.”
He throws his hands up and snorts. “Well, your lawyer will have to make an appointment. Could take a few days, since the bastards here are obnoxiously slow on purpose. Hope you’ve got a good one.”
I growl faintly. Of course Cal-ee’s a good law-yeah. Mine and White Mine are smart and only have the best around them. Plus, I saw the way people in that court looked at Cal-ee. I might not like him much, but everyone else seems to want to talk to him.
“Cal-ee good,” I say hotly, bristling with fresh anger.
Al cocks his head, eyeing me. “Hmm, lucky you.” He falls silent as he folds his body over until he’s laying chest-down on the floor. Slowly he pushes up on his arms.
When he does it several more times, I lean over the edge. “What doing?” I ask.
“Trying to stay alive.”
That makes no sense. “You breathing.”
He chokes on a laugh. “So far.” Al shifts onto his knees and shuffles to the bed to pull something out from under his mattress.
“Look at this, Zack.” He holds up a wood shard, sharpened on one end, and taped on the other.
“This is called a shiv. People use it—” He makes a stabbing action.
“—to hurt or kill.” He stands and lifts the item up closer to me.
“Watch out for these whenever you leave this room. Someone might try to slide one through your lungs.”
I track the shiv as he pushes it close to his body.
“Acting,” I murmur, when no blood flows out.
“No, listen.” He shakes his head and huffs. “It might not be acting outside.”
I slide back on the bed, away from his tool and the drop to the floor. I turn his words over, trying to find meaning. He’s not threatening me, but it sounds like someone will. But what do I do if I can’t kill them?
“Fuck, I hope the mutt understands me,” Al says, returning to his strange movements on the floor.
A short time later, a harsh buzz rings out overhead, making me jump with fright. Al pockets his shiv and gets up, slapping his hands together to get the dust off. “Okay, come on, Zack. Time for supper.”
When I hesitate, he waves for me to climb down the steps. “Food. Eating. You know what that is, right?”
“Cake?” I ask hopefully.
Al bursts into laughter. “Doubt it. Plenty of potatoes, though.”
I grumble in annoyance and climb down, following him out through the doorway. Al checks the hall in both directions before walking down the metal stairs, glancing over his shoulder to see if I follow.
On the top step, I hesitate. Alphas of all shapes and sizes stream out of the rooms and down the stairs, everyone dressed in orange like me and Al.
Their scents mingle together in a cloud that makes me growl under my breath, and quivers chase themselves up and down my spine as I count the threats.
Enough for lots of packs, like the trays eggs come in several times over.
Many men wear black patterns and pictures on their skin and have very little hair on their heads.
Wary gazes slide over me, and I know that look in their eyes. Assessing a challenge.
A whistle cuts through the noise of boots clanging on the steps. “Zack?” Al calls. “Come on and stay close.”
I push my way through the bodies to find him, ignoring complaints. Al and I have a deal not to challenge each other, which is safer than all these strangers who might gang up on me. One versus one, I can handle any alpha here, but experience taught me that groups pose a greater threat.
Al leads me to an opening in the wall where more alphas in orange offer food. We take a tray and they fill the sections with spoonfuls of soft potato, dark sausages, and hot soggy tomatoes. I frown when the last one adds a yellow glob. No cake.
As I settle on a stool at a bench, my instincts ripple with warning. My back’s exposed to the crowd, and I twitch constantly to check behind me. And as my gaze sweeps the alphas, I notice something. They all watch us with hardened, angry eyes.
I look again, tracking everything as they stare at me.
No, not me. I turn to find Al watching the room, his gaze also assessing them.
These alphas are watching Al—and they don’t like him.
One side of Al’s mouth tips. “You think they’d throw a feral alpha in with just anyone, mutt? Someone was hoping one of us wouldn’t walk out of that room. And since we both did, neither of us are getting brownie points.”
I growl under my breath.
“Amen to that.” He lifts his spoon, loaded with potato, and waves it at me. “Now, I know who wants me dead, so the question is, who’s after your head, my new friend?”