He Had To Be An Alpha?

Chapter 27

*Alex's POV*

I limp my way to the Pack House. It's only now that my adrenaline is winding down that I can feel some deep wounds on my body, and my exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks.

It doesn't help that I have two first graders latched onto my hips like a second skin.

I could really use some coffee right now.

It would definitely help clear my mind, and I could maybe scrap off whatever courage I have left to speak to Blake, but I doubt that would do any good.

He seems pretty comfortable just burning holes in my head with his dagger blue eyes, and let me tell you- it hurts.

But I'm not going to tell him that. Ha, over my dead body.

The kids stopped crying after about fifteen minutes back, but they still whimper from time to time.

It takes longer to get to the Pack House when you're walking rather than running. Especially when you have cargo.

Blake trails behind us, and I have half a mind to turn around and just yell at him to yell at me because the silence is deafening. Heck, I could scream just for kicks right now, but that would do nothing to help these poor kids in my tired arms.

It would be nice for Blake to help some, but if I didn't know any better I would think these kids felt safe in my arms.

But I doubt that, they just witness me shove eyeballs down someone's throat. That doesn't exactly spell out Hugs and Kisses, does it? Yeah, didn't think so.

As soon as these kids catch a whiff of their mother's scent, they will be flying out of my arms faster than Superman.

My heart turns dense at the thought.

Man, sometimes, I hate my job.

But on the bright side, it helps me release all of my anger, and pain. I get to protect people with the skills I was cursed with since I was eleven.

I get to use all of my training against bad guys and save people, but it entails that things get a little messy sometimes.

Okay, really messy.

I take a deep breath of the cool night air to try and jolt my senses to attention as he round the corner of the highway, and I start to jog into a secluded forest that the Pack House is located in the center.

I clench my jaw to keep from grunting every time blood spews from a wound on my side with each step I take.

Hold in there. Just get these kids to their mom, and then you can pass out, and find yourself in the Pack Cells for excessive physical murder, and for causing Post Traumatic Stress to first graders.

Woopeee. I just love my life.

I take shaky breathes as lights appear ahead of me.

That better not be the light I'm not supposed to follow. That would suck fudge balls.

Thankfully, a huge crowd of werewolves of all ages are talking and eating and having such great fun hanging out with each other.

Or rather unthankfully, because all of them got to see a very bloody Pack Warrior who probably looks like she was hit by a 4 by 4 with two blood smeared and tear stained children in her arms with an angry looking Alpha glaring at her from behind.

Yeah, I'd say that's reason enough for all conversations to come to a halt, and for two high pitched yells to fill the silence.

Great, now my palms are all sweaty.