5. The ‘Good Guys’
The ‘Good Guys’
Cassius
This week has been a shitshow. To make matters worse, my genius brain decided to hang out with Dain. All I wanted was to vent and blow off some steam. Instead, I got a lecture about how delusional I am.
My work is, let’s say, less than legal (who am I kidding, I kill people, It’s one hundred per cent illegal), and this week a group of arsehole Alphas decided to give me the runaround and refuse to fucking die in the manner in which I planned.
I had to improvise. I hate improvising. I wouldn’t call who I work with gangs or mafia, partly because I work on the more legal side of their illegal dealings (again, I’m a killer, I can’t imagine the shit they get up to), partly because that is a quick way to get a bullet to the head, but mostly because my family are nosy fuckers and my brothers are goody two shoes.
After watching my brothers work for the ‘good guys’—Browen with his Council work and Dain, the overprotective bastard; as a bodyguard—for years and make little progress, I knew I needed to do something more. I’m not saying that they don’t do anything for society. They do, but I do it quicker.
Beta corruption and pack prejudice are all the news can talk about lately.
Which is good for me, I tend to focus on the dark side of Alphas.
Since the Alpha Council united eons ago, they have brought a sense of safety and community to Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike.
And since that beginning, they’ve had a list. This list comprises the most dangerous creatures: feral Alphas.
A feral Alpha is aggressive beyond redemption.
They desire nothing more than blood and destruction, and they cannot be saved or stopped with anything short of death.
They do not discriminate between other Alphas or Betas, but they do have a special fondness for Omegas.
It seems that the innate instinct inside them, drawing them to potential mates, is still alive and kicking.
Only twisted and broken beyond recognition.
The Council, unbeknownst to my brother and I work together. They provide me with the names on the list, and I eliminate them. Or, more accurately, they turn a blind eye to my work and let me continue to clean up the planet.
To the outside world, I’m the proud owner of Alpha Protected Systems, the face of the company, the techy one.
I’m the brother in the public eye. Browen lives in the middle of a fucking forest and spends his time either with his pack or working, and Dain’s entire profession depends on him being a shadow.
I’m the face of the company, the face of the family.
I go to charity events and talk to reporters.
All the lies I’ve curated are what people think when they see me.
In reality, the company is divided into different facets that all feed each other.
The security side of things is very much real.
We are the best in the business. The system allows us access, gives us control, and is a front for our operation.
We contract out our work to the more shady crowds.
Mostly investigating, occasionally assassinating.
These connections are essential and build a good relationship between us.
They let us do our work, and they know we’ll stop them if they step out of line.
It’s always good to know who thinks they’re in charge.
Which comes to me and my team. With connections, access, and a cover, we’re free to take out as many feral Alphas as we can find.
I wouldn’t say I get satisfaction from taking a life.
It’s not a thrill or a joy, but a necessity.
There’s one aspect I do love. The chase.
Learning someone’s routine, figuring out what makes them tick.
Their fears and desires. Watching them and knowing they can feel my eyes tracking them, that it’s already too late.
They can’t escape. I know them too well.
And what is finding my scent match if not life’s ultimate chase?
I’m not delusional. Despite what Dain insists. I’m determined. I know I can’t magically make the world a safer, better place, but I can sure as shit take out some rotten Alphas during my time on this planet.
I know my odds of finding my scent match aren’t great, but I’ve always been a stubborn motherfucker.
I will find my Omega. So far, it’s been pretty lacklustre.
I feel nothing towards any of the Omegas I have met.
But I trust my instincts, and they’re telling me that my Omega is out there, waiting for me to find them.
I’ve always let my instincts guide me. When I met Omega Daisy, I knew she would be important, and now she’s practically family.
I felt it when I met Omega Anna, and everything in my body and soul told me it was time to find my happily ever after.
Nothing will stop me, and fuck, when I do…
* * *
I flop back onto the leather armchair, ignoring Apollo’s pawing.
I know I need to shower. The stench of this Alpha is not something I want to keep smelling for the rest of the week.
The cold blood has long since seeped through my shirt and is sticking to my skin, but I don’t have it in me to give a fuck.
This last Alpha was a messy one.
More and more lately, I keep finding young Alphas who were indoctrinated during the time of the Omega scent harvesting operation.
This society works on a delicate balance.
When the Betas abducted the Omegas, experimenting and killing them, they threw off that balance.
Alphas need Omegas. We have a desire within us to protect and provide.
This doesn’t have to be with a mate, but our friends, family, co-workers.
When the Omegas disappeared from society, our purpose was stripped.
There’s a reason why Alphas are made to join the military, given structure and control, experience in leadership, and an outlet for violence. Especially during early adolescence. Without it, we become twisted inside.
These Alphas grew up in a world where they were told they would not find a mate. Where even seeing an Omega was rare. They blamed Betas for being the only option left, and they began to resent the lives that they had to live. They chose to live in isolation and anger.
These are not excuses. Many of us found a purpose in life.
We fought against it. From my experience, these Alphas were always destined to become feral.
It was just a matter of when and what the trigger would be.
They chose to be angry, and it fed something inside them.
Something they had no control over because they refused to be taught.
Alphas need community, structure, power, and a reason to live to be healthy.
These Alphas are worse than animals. They’re violent and unreasonable, and it’s my job to put them down.
This last one was hard. We were the same age. The only thing separating us was my belief that I will find my scent match.
My hand finds the soft fur of Apollo’s head, and he nuzzles into me despite the bloody smell.
Maybe I should give my nephews a visit soon, clear my mind and refocus on finding my happily ever after. But what I really need to do is shower, shave off this thing living on my face because unlike Dain and his dark hair, I look stupid with a beard, and take my dog on a well deserved walk.
The long walk to the bathroom makes me regret buying this place.
Why didn’t I get a studio? Finally, the scorching hot water pours over me and every muscle relaxes.
Blood slips from my skin, running in pink lines down my body.
The cold tile under my hand is the only thing keeping me upright.
Apollo’s eyes catch mine on the other side of the glass.
He’s watching me like he expects me to fall over any minute, and he’s not wrong.
I tilt my head back, letting the water run over my face and down my chest.
Heartache.
An apt description.
The lifeless organ squeezes inside my chest.