Page 23 of Brutal Alpha Bully
Soren starts to cough—the result of sudden clean air after two hours of nothing but that thick, choking black smoke. Lachlan shifts to the side, patting him on the back, but I’m focused on the scene.
Felix with his helmet under his arm, his gear sooty and covered in muck, his boots thick with the extinguishing goop. Blades of bright green grass stick to that goop.
The sun isshiningright here. It feels like a completely different world.
When Soren straightens up from his coughing fit, he pulls his bottle of water from his side and chugs it, then turns in a circle, shaking his head.
“What thefuckis this, X?”
They’re all looking at me. Maybe because I’m the one who spent the past decade working as a firefighter. Or maybe because my dad had always made it a point to look for answers, and that’s what they expect of me now.
Or maybe because, no matter how hard I try to ignore it, to fight it, I still end up commanding a leadership position. The wolf inside me yearns to take charge, to lead the group, to be the one giving them the information they’re looking for.
That’s part of what it means to be a leader. Something I saw my dad embody in his work every single day. Not just living in the glory of being the supreme, but identifying the needs of your people and meeting them. Whether that was information, food, water, shelter, or safety, my dad was always looking for a way to make sure the shifters in our pack had the things they needed.
“No idea,” I finally answer, hearing how gravelly my voice comes out. I reach for my water bottle to assuage the burn there. When I squirt the water into my mouth, it’s warm from the fire, but it still feels like a blessing on my scorched throat.
It’s the truth. I have no idea what the hell is going on in this little piece of the woods, completely untouched. But as we stand there, catching our breaths, I look around, noticing the lines in the dirt around the perimeter and the faint etchings on the outskirts of the clearing.
Just as the guys and I turn to go, I notice something else. Something barely perceptible, floating on the breeze. Something that smells like mint and gasoline.
***
“Xeran?”
“Oh, fuck!”
I jump and turn as I walk into the house, heart thudding when I see Nora standing there in the living room, shadows nearly shrouding her, even from where she stands by the window, her hand resting lightly on the windowsill.
In what world do I allow a little girl to sneak up on me? How the fuck is she so quiet? And how is her scent so weak? Surely her father must have had feeble genes. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse about this whole thing.
Her blond hair is braided to the side, a hairstyle I recognize with a start from Seraphina. From high school. The thought of her braiding her daughter’s hair in the same way does something strange to my chest.
Nora stares at me with those wide blue eyes—the ones that look so much like mine—but says nothing, almost like she’s waiting for me to make the first move in this interaction. There’s something about her that’s not quite like any other kid I’ve met before. The sense that she has an old soul, already understands the world in a way that most kids her age wouldn’t.
She reminds me of myself.
“What are you doing out here?” I can smell Seraphina, hear her steady heartbeat upstairs—she’s asleep. It’s nearing nightfall now, and the guys and I have just finished cleaning up our gear after checking the surrounding area for any other potential fires. Daemonic fires are usually spontaneous, but sometimes you can sense the energy in an area where one is about to start.
“I wanted to ask you some questions,” Nora says, turning fully away from the window and clasping her hands in front of herself. She’s wearing a pair of linen shorts and a t-shirt, and I recognize the outfit as one that I picked up from the department store.
For some reason, that gives me the same feeling as thinking about her hairstyle. Something soft and unbidden, a pride that she actually wore what I picked out for her.
After Seraphina got better, I’d thought about the problem of them not having much, of her washing the same clothes in the sink day after day. But the idea of taking them out to a store seemed like too much of a risk. Especially after my brothers were bold enough to go after them like that, and so close to our father’s house. So close to territory that is technically, legally, and naturally mine.
“Your mom doesn’t want you down here,” I say to her, pushing past, realizing I’m avoiding her not just for her sake but mine.
My wolf is telling me that there might be something dangerous about this girl. Like I might end up caring about her more than I should. And the last thing I need right now is another tie to Silverville, another thing making me feel like I should stay here for longer than I planned.
“You were fighting a daemonic fire,” she says, which is not a question but a lead-in that gets me to stop, turn back, and meet her eye.
“We stopped it in the foothills,” I say.
“How do you stop it?”
“Extinguishers.”
“What’s that?”
