Chapter 40 Callisto
Chapter forty
Callisto
The prison goes into complete lockdown, so I can’t get a solid answer about what happened to Zack or Alhedy.
Red said that although the intensity in the bond diminished after just a few minutes, she could still sense Zack, so at least he’s alive.
As for the rest, we’ll have to wait and see.
I’d rush out to see him, but they won’t allow visitation during lockdown.
Plus, today I have my first class for the Alpha Rehabilitation program.
Better late than never, and if I’m really considering working with other ferals in the future, I’ll need the license.
Plus, it’s more exercise to go with my grueling toning program for Red’s sex scene.
The studio’s fitness trainer has me on a tight regime of exercises designed to tone up my shoulders and abdominals.
Worst part’s been the diet; I’m cutting fluids right now in order to look more defined for filming.
But we’re almost over the line and it’s worth it to make Red feel more comfortable.
I check my phone once more to see if I have any messages from Red or Rickon, but all is quiet. They fell asleep together, drained after the intense emotional superstorm. I’m loathe to leave them alone even for one night, but this class means helping Red in a different way.
“You going in?” An agent holds the door open for me.
I nod and follow him in, scanning the training room.
Upper windows brightly light the open chamber, the mirrors on the far wall expanding the perception of space.
Behind the door, benches sit in front of lockers.
The rest of the floor’s covered in spongy blue mats, fit tight together.
The faint scent of sweat permeates the air, reminding me of years doing judo.
Other alphas mill, drinking water and stretching in preparation for the class. I join them, dropping my bag on the bench and kicking off my shoes. I already changed into loose pants and a tank top, an outfit I’m wearing more and more these days as I hit the gym in between my already busy schedule.
We introduce ourselves, and I recognize a few men as OCB agents, but the rest come from all walks of life. Some are nurses who want to help ferals admitted to hospitals, others come from welfare groups.
The biggest difference is that most of these students are here to deal with men who’ve been overrun by instinct after extreme trauma. I’m here for a different kind of feral.
“Hello everyone!” A huge alpha strides into the room.
He walks with the balanced stride of someone who’s done martial arts all his life.
“My name is Eitan, and I’m your instructor for this program.
I’m a Krav Maga specialist working out of the Alpha Center, with twenty years of self-defense experience, and today I’m going to teach you how to restrain alphas turned feral.
” He lifts a clipboard. “Let’s get started. ”
We line up on the edge of the mats, and he ticks off our attendance on his list.
“Right. You’ve all done the preliminary theory course, so you know why we’re here.
” He tucks the clipboard behind his back and paces as he speaks.
“Designation has a deep psychological, emotional, and physical impact on a person’s actions.
These responses live in the amygdala, also known as the animal brain.
Through education and life experiences, we learn to regulate and control our behavior, but when alphas revert to an animal-response pattern, we call that going feral.
” He pauses and pulls out his clipboard. “Which one of you is Mr Wren?”
I raise my hand. “I’m Callisto.”
Eitan nods in greeting. “According to your intake forms, you’re doing this course on account of feral pit fighters. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir. I have one as my client.”
He drops his clipboard onto the bench. “Very admirable.” He turns back to the group.
“In some cases, like pit fighters, the alpha never receives the necessary education in the first place. That means we’re left dealing with immense, raw balls of alpha instinct, all wrapped up in a body nature designed to be more powerful than other designations.
Your theory course takes you through the proper road to self-regulation.
This class will teach you how to suppress a feral in order to attempt rehabilitation. Are you ready?”
When we all call out “Yes!” Eitan grins.
“Good. The first rule of suppression is to protect yourself. An alpha acting under animal brain shows no mercy. He does not know the meaning of the word.” He holds up one finger.
“Your safety comes before anything else, even the ferals’.
If you live, you have a chance at taming him or her. If you die, end of story.”
I nod. The day we brought Zack home to the apartment, nothing would’ve stood in his way when he flipped out. Only his omega’s quick thinking tricked him into turning away from attacking everyone. Even the highly trained OCB agents were nervous as hell.
“Second rule. Feral alphas are highly unpredictable—” He rushes into our group, sweeping out his leg and tumbling several people onto the mats.
Being on the group’s outer edge gives me a tiny head’s up warning. As I skip away, Eitan’s toes brush my hem. My pulse speeds up.
The trainer grins like a wild man. “In this class, expect the unexpected. Ferals give no warnings, they don’t ask for a duel, and they don’t back down. Even alphas who’ve been in rehabilitation for months can flick like a switch if their survival instincts get triggered.”
Like Zack flipping out when the colored lights flashed or the time he chased a dog. When he first moved in, even the toaster popping had him scrambling up from the table on high alert. But he’s learning how to handle his instincts and even suppress his scent.
Eitan walks a few steps away. “And since we’re on the topic, ferals don’t fight like ordinary people.
They’ll slash with nails, use their teeth, and go for the most economical hits.
” He turns and pops his fists on his hips, expression growing serious.
“And by that, I mean instant kills. Which is why we have rule number one.”
I thought I was ready for him to be unpredictable, but an eye blink later I’m flat on my back on the mats, my compressed lungs telling me he threw me hard.
Eitan looms over me. Alpha instinct and memory spark together, and I throw my hands up in front of my neck as his hands descend for a choke, grappling with his wrists to shunt them down onto the mat while searching for an escape.
“Good,” the instructor says. “Fight fire with fire by using your own instincts, but never let alpha domination take the lead. The overwhelmed feral is relying on you to stay cool-headed.”
He offers me his hand, and I surge to my feet.
“Number three.” Eitan resumes pacing. “Your goal is to restrain. If you can get the alpha under control, then you have a chance of appealing to his other senses or for backup to arrive.” He gets us to repeat the three rules and then for the rest of the allotted hour takes us through basic holds for restraining an attacker’s movements.
I work up a light sweat practicing the movements.
Most focus on getting behind the alpha through guillotines, shoulder hooks, or ground control.
Once we’ve demonstrated each movement, Eitan calls us together again.
He gets a devilish look in his eye as he thumps one fist into his hand, making the muscles in his shoulders roll.
“Gather round, newbies. The point of this class is to grow your confidence in handling an out-of-control alpha. Which means we’ll now bring one in.”
“A real one?” someone asks in a pitchy voice.
That can’t be ethical, right? Maybe I’m about to get a new client.
Eitan smirks. “No, he’s an actor, but a good one. The only thing he won’t do is kill you . . . but he might come close.”
The hair on my arms stands on end. I lift my hand and he nods. “Eitan, I really can’t get bruised today.” I cringe internally, knowing I sound like a wimp.
His brow jump. “Why, do you have a modeling session, brother?”
One of my OCB acquaintances comes to my rescue. “He’s a prosecutor. Probably due in court tomorrow.”
Fuck. Better not mention filming.
Eitan stalks closer and drops his hand on my shoulder. “Simple solution. Don’t get caught.”
I swallow a groan as he lifts a whistle to his lips.
He flashes his menacing grin again. “This is our last activity for today’s session. Anyone who restrains the feral for five seconds can leave for the day. If you can’t, you’ll have to keep trying until you can.” The whistle peeps shrilly.
The side door flings open, crashing into the wall, and a man runs in. My senses snap to attention as his dominant alpha energy pours into the room, thick and fierce. A sharp tang like ocean air streams around him as he barrels into the first participant, kicking the guy’s legs out from under him.
If I take him down fast, I can get going.
Sucking in a deep breath, I launch myself toward the man who’s currently punching another trainee.
He whirls when I get in striking range, growling and shooting his flat hand toward my throat.
I slap his hand away and drive for his shoulder, trying to crank in a hold that will spin his back toward me.
He drops and charges, swinging side to side, in a move I’ve never seen. Unpredictable.
I barely keep my footing as he slams into me.
Grunting from impact, I grab a fistful of his clothes like it’s a sparring outfit, and we grapple for the superior hold.
He doesn’t give me time to plan, only to respond to his heavy surges.
But those wild gyrations leave an opening.
I hook my leg behind his and turn, throwing him down.
Habit sends me grappling for an armbar, but the feral throws himself right over with impossible strength and slams a heavy fist into my thigh.
Pain sparks in my leg, reminding me why I’m here. Quickly I roll him over, hooking my arm around his neck and through his upper arm before cranking. In a match, someone would tap out by now, but he doesn’t budge, rocking and slapping with a stinging open hand to dislodge me.
Eitan starts the countdown.
Every muscle strains just to keep him down, and heat burns up my shoulders. Fuck, this brute is strong. My hold slips.
“Five. Callisto’s done!” the trainer shouts, arm shooting out like a baseball umpire.
The actor surges out of my grip, making me wonder if I had him at all.
Eitan catches my eye. “But I’m pretty sure you’re dead in the next second.”
I snort. He’s probably right.
“See you next week.” He hooks his thumb at me to get lost and turns back to watch the participants.
Breath hisses through my lungs, not just from the strain but the adrenaline dump as well.
That was intense. But strangely, the vibes the actor gives off seem muted compared to the run-in I had with Zack.
I pant softly, getting my breathing under control as I collect my shoes and gym bag.
I’m lightheaded as I straighten, the mild dehydration kicking in.
The trainer’s words ring in my ears. Ferals don’t hesitate to deal death. In fact, driven by pure instinct, they aim to put threats out of commission as quickly as possible. But Zack’s had quite a few tussles that haven’t ended in fatalities. That fact might be more important than I realized.
Is Zack unique in learning to regulate so fast or is it the omega touch? His bond may have paralyzed his pack mates, but I’d bet my fortune that being so connected sped up his rehabilitation. Rickon was right to give him that chance.
I push through the doors, calling goodbye to the agents who made it out after me. Better get home to organize my notes for the bail hearing. Then I’ll call the prison again to see if they can tell me anything about Zack’s condition.
And get a good sleep so I’m fresh for a sex scene with the omega I love.