Who's Alpha (On Hold)

▼About Last Summer

"You need to kill me. Do it now Del!" The older man probably in his late forties - early fifties spoke with a mouthful of blood resigning in his throat. Bloodied, broken and torn he lay in Dèlan's arms barely holding onto his final breaths making sure that his will be carried out.

"But why boss? Why?" Dèlan was never one to cry, even before he became who he was- tears never were a bother to him. Now he was releasing them just as freely as they came.

"You need to do this. You need to take charge Dèlan. You need to become, the alpha." He held Dèlan's right hand in a fatherly manner, bringing it closer to his throat and placing it there.

"Boss, please. Don't." He continued to beg.

~.~

It all started sometime after February that year; being the regular, overlooked teenager that he was Dèlan left a friend's house after eight at night and made his way home from playing video games all day.

As slender as he was he never feared being attacked at night. Not only because of having lived in the country but also where he came from; he was well known to people and he knew people.

He greeted those he saw on the road as he passed, walking the streets he found so familiar. Some warned him that he should've been home already, joking that the street lights shouldn't find him outside but he was seventeen- old enough to take care of himself and worry about nothing dangerous at least where he lived.

He crossed the road at the same place as he was accustomed, walked on a little track between two houses as was the norm and perused the community park like usual.

What was different tonight though was that he took a short road home instead of the longer way around. It wasn't necessarily dangerous; he simply had to cross from one end of the road to the other and he was home free. The road had gotten new street lights so he was free to traverse them no matter how dark it was. The downside was that this particular road was the home to the community's mafia boss.

Again, he was known and he knew people, but bad morals were bad morals so like any other caring, concerned parent. His mother had warned him against any interactions between Caleb and his men.

Dèlan pushed his hands in his pockets and crossed the road under the first street light. He observed the place as he walked. Nothing out of the ordinary; some houses had light and some were dark, some people lounged outside and others were walking the same as him. Noise caught his ears, Dèlan didn't know why he didn't notice it up until now but music played in the distance and he could see lights and more people.

A street party. Caleb's doing?

As he approached he could see the junction at the end of the road meaning his house was very close. Now there were more men standing by; not being entirely social, instead just standing there looking around- they were guards.

"Hey! Isn't it too late for you to be out?" If Dèlan had a dollar every time someone said that, he rolled his eyes- that would've been his reply, but these were bodyguards talking to him and not just any old fashioned guards you'd find stationed outside a bank in uniform- these were mafia trained men.

"It's only eight thirty man, can't you cut me some slack?" He exhaled.

"Don't worry. I'm booking it home now." Dèlan added to his previous statement so it didn't come off as a bit too rude.

"Hey, wait a minute." The voice called out, he stopped in annoyance even though he didn't want to. The person drew closer from the shadows and approached him under one of the streetlights. He wasn't with the crowd but close enough to have to shout over the music.