Page 41 of Alpha On Top

What the hell happened? Just say it already!

“Your mother is fine.” His breathing was ragged and deep, the soft waiver in his words made me understand completely that he wouldn't be calling me if he didn't feel he was obligated to.

Sighing with relief, my body relaxed a little, re-cementing my feet to the floor. Sitting on the small couch in my apartment, I hung my head, waiting for him to continue.

My father was quiet, his exhale loud and audible, scratching its way through the speaker. Holding on to what patience I had left for this phone call, I calmly asked, “Then what's wrong? Why the hell are you calling me? This is really fucking ballsy of you, calling me out of the blue like this.”

“It's Zander.”

“What's wrong with Zander? Did he get in trouble? Arrested? What the hell happened?” Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose and grunted. “You know what, it doesn't matter. There's nothing I can do to help, you know that.”

Didn't he understand that just picking up the phone was enough to lead them to me? Was he that fucking blind to the danger he was calling to his doorstep?

If they knew he talked to me, if they thought for a second that my family had any idea about where I was; they would all be dead.

My father growled, his voice deep and hollow. “I'm not calling for your help, Porter, that's the last thing we need from you. You've already fucked up enough for us.”

Taking in a big gulp of air, I closed my eyes, trying not to let him get under my skin. “What happened? What the hell did he do?”

“It's not what he did. . .” Pausing, I heard my father take a sip of something, slurping against the speaker. “You know what, forget it. I was wrong to call you, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore.”

The phone went dead and I sat confused, wondering what the hell was happening back home. He had called me for a reason, and yet he wouldn't actually tell me what it was.

Throwing myself back, I dug my fingertips into the back of my skull and clutched my head. The urge to run home clawed its way through my chest, inserting the idea in my head.

I can't go back, it's too dangerous.

If I go home and they find out. . .

Fuck! What the hell did he do?

He got arrested, the fucker got himself arrested.

That was the only thing that made sense to me. Zander had done something stupid and had gotten caught. Don't get me wrong, I was far from innocent. The both of us had been wild, running the streets and causing hell.

We used to be close, but he went his way and I went mine. That's what happens with siblings, you eventually grow apart, changing as the world either drags you down or pushes you up.

I got into some shit that even the baddest prison asshole would probably run from. The thing was I was actually really good at it. I didn't blink an eye when they asked me to jack a semi or rough someone up who owed them money. And as I got better, as I got stronger and my conscience seemed to dwindle down to nothing, my jobs became darker.

I could kill any man, no questions asked. The money was good, but the notoriety was better. It got to the point that the boss would personally ask for me to make the next hit. I felt really good, I was high on the power surging through my veins.

Until the day it all changed.

I was easily swayed back then, a gullible young man who trusted too easily and gave too much for someone who didn't care. My boss never gave me a reason before to not trust him, I thought we were a family.

That was the picture he created. He made me feel like I was important, like I truly meant something to the organization.

But I was blind to the truth. We all have limits, it doesn't matter how bad you are. They crossed the line, and for the first time ever, I told him no. I couldn't pull the trigger.

I thought Marcos Disesto was alright with it. After going to him myself and telling him I couldn't do it, that I was done with all of this, he shook my hand and smiled. He told me that he understood.

“Don't worry about it, it's alright,” he said, cupping my hand in his and squeezing. Patting the back of my palm, he lifted his hand to my face and gently slapped my cheek. “You do what you need to do, and I'll do the same.”

I walked out thinking that there was no bad blood between us.

I was so fucking wrong.

He set me up, threatened my family and tried to have me killed. What he didn't count on was me coming out alive. So I ran, dead set on never looking back, confident that if I was gone my family would be safe.

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