Page 119 of Chasing The Alpha's Son
“You don’t get it! You don’t matter! You’re insignificant to everyone except Jasper. And with you out of the picture completely, the prince will crumble.”
For some inexplicable reason Clayton pulls off his jacket and tosses it aside, then throws off the loose bow tie and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
“No one else will care, but his true colors will have been revealed. The alpha’s son will be labeled a coward, a weakling, unfit to lead! And I will walk away without a single consequence. In fact, I’ll become the next in line to lead the pack.”
Is he… Does he want to kill me?!
“What are you saying? That’s…insane!”
He cackles and drops his shirt, then undoes his pants. “Poor little Maxie, has no idea how the world freakin’ works. See, people like you disappear every day and no one bats an eyelid. While people like me…we get what we want!”
And with that, Clayton leaps forward, leaving his clothes in a pile and shifting, his claws extended in my direction. In a frightening moment, his wolf is revealed. Everything happens so fast—this manic, gnarly golden creature flies in my direction, fangs bared, eyes piercing into my soul. I have no time to shift, so I roll to avoid being tackled off the roof.
My shoulder hits the concrete, hard, and I barely have enough wherewithal to stagger to my feet before Clayton has turned and pounced.
He lands on me with a thud, sending my head crashing into the ground with a skull-splitting crack. With what strength I have, I push against his thick fur, trying to hold his snapping jaws at bay. Saliva trickles from his open mouth, spattering me in the face. I kick and thrash, but he’s too heavy, too strong.
Narrowly missing a snap of his jaws, I twist to the side and notice his exposed belly. So I extend my claws and swipe. He rears back, howling in pain, and blood splashes the concrete. In that instant I’m able to push him off me and scramble for the door.
Before I can take more than three steps though, he’s on me again, swiping at my back and tearing through clothes to shred my skin. I cry out as the pain burns and I fall.
In one movement Clayton catches the front of my shirt with his paw and, like I weigh nothing, he tosses me across the rooftop. I skid over the concrete, sliding to a crash landing as I collide with the wall. I try to stand but my leg is hurt, and the wounds on my back are searing with pain.
Clayton stalks forward, readying to attack once more. I need to shift if I’m going to have any chance of defeating him. But even as a wolf, would I be a match? Is it useless? In either form I’m too weak to beat him. He has the upper hand. He always has. There is no point letting my wolf out, because the result will be the same.
And in this moment of hesitation he pounces again. I groan as he hauls me up and holds me against the railing. The pavement seems miles away beneath me, the traffic streams past in miniature, headlights blurring as the wind tears at my face. I choke against the grip Clayton has around my neck.
He lowers his muzzle so he can stare into my eyes. He wants to gloat, to tell me he doesn’t care if I die—that he’ll enjoy watching me fall. I meet his gaze and know all this, and then realize…I can feel him. I can feel his hatred, his murderous intent, but more than that I can feel his discomfort, his loss, his displacement and feelings of inadequacy. And I realize I have a strength that Clayton doesn’t.
With my eyes closed, I relax my body, falling limp in Clayton’s arms. I sense a moment of shock but I move past it. I let my mind open, let the barriers fall, and reach out to Clayton, extending my consciousness like a net of blood-red electric pulses that stream into his soul.
At first everything is dark and I wonder if this is what Clayton’s subconscious is—empty…nothingness. He’s always been a dick, but recently he’s verged into homicidal territory, so honestly it wouldn’t surprise me. But then I see a glimmer up ahead, a shimmering light. I push forward, streaming through the currents of his mind. I travel instinctually, letting my senses lead me, and as I dive farther into Clayton’s subconscious I know I’m heading in the right direction. The glimmer opens up, revealing a memory.
When I arrive, the world whooshes into place around me, until I’m standing in the center of a vision. My legs wobble, unstable beneath me, like it’s taking energy to be this far in. The last time I experienced a vision it was an accident. I’ve never done it on purpose. It will be exhausting to maintain. But my blood-wolf senses brought me here, so I know I have to persevere.
A rose-tinted light filters through the oak trees overhead. I’m standing on grass, in the middle of a quad, with tall red-brick buildings surrounding me on three sides. Some kids in uniforms sit on the grass with workbooks open and backpacks tossed haphazardly to the side. This must be a school—a fancy one from the look of the place.
From behind a tree a wolf emerges. A wolf I haven’t seen before from this viewpoint, but one I recognize instantly, because it’s mine. My wolf-self saunters toward me, not lifting its head to make eye contact, but passing casually and continuing on. When it reaches the corner of a building, it glances back and I know to follow.
My wolf leads me through the expansive campus. From the look of the buildings I’d say we’re somewhere in the states—maybe New England, or somewhere that’s supposed to look like it, but definitely somewhere old. The buildings are grand, with ornate finishings, wrought iron gates, tall frosted windows through which I can’t see, and strange pained-looking faces carved into the stone walls. Kids in blazers, woolly hats, and scarves run by on their way to class, holding books to their chests. A couple of boys are tossing a ball against a wall, jostling to beat each other to it.
Up ahead, the paths between four buildings intersect. Benches sit in a square formation facing a leafless tree under which a couple is talking. My wolf walks right up to them and I approach carefully, unsure if they can see me or not.
It takes a second for me to realize I know both of them. Clayton has rosier cheeks and fluffier hair, but looks basically the same, filling out his school blazer the way he filled out his suit jacket. He has his arms around Aisha, whose blazer is on the ground. Her hair is tied back in braids and her face is flushed.
Why is he holding her like that?
My wolf glances back one last time before vanishing. I call out to Aisha, but my voice is silent; my slow-motion-waving arm does nothing to attract her attention. I step forward, eager to watch this memory play out.
At first they seem playful, joking—almost like a couple, teasing and acting coy. Aisha is wriggling, trying to escape Clayton’s arms, but he doesn’t want to let her go. To the unaware observer it might almost seem sweet. Finally, Aisha manages to free herself, but Clayton catches her by the hand and pulls her back to him. Her playful smile becomes an annoyed grimace. Clayton leans in in an attempt to kiss Aisha, but she ducks her head to the side, evading his advance. He pulls back, looking confused but not dissuaded, then goes in for the kiss again, and this time Aisha tries harder to break away.
Clayton holds fast. The dick…Let her go!
Their playful energy is gone and now Aisha’s grimace is a strained expression of panic. She doesn’t want this. She braces herself against him with her forearms to put some space between them. Yet Clayton continues to hold onto her. I want to run to them and pull them apart. I want to help her. But I can’t move. This is as close as the vision will let me get.
Finally, Aisha has had enough. She throws open her arms, breaking Clayton’s hold, and pushes him away. He approaches again, yelling, and tries to pull her back to him. But she turns and slaps him across the face, hard.
Clayton holds his reddening cheek.
