How To Be An Alpha

Step 9

The night was cold and gloomy. Clouds covered the sky, not allowing the light of the moon to shine upon the surface of the earth and all in all, every weather forecast in the area had warned everyone about the storm that was approaching. No one in their right mind would step out into such a weather.

Keywords, right mind.

It was late and the sounds of dogs barking kept the neighborhood awake. In an old storage building in the not so fancy side of town, a fight was taking place. Of course there was.

The place was abandoned, giving free passes to any druggies or homeless people to use as shelter or to hide from the police. In this case, it was also a great place to take on the more illicit activities.

Heavy breathing and agonizing moaning replaced the sound of bone-breaking hits and unruly curses. Like any other abandoned building, the lighting wasn't exactly bright, but the few lamps that hung from the roof provided enough light to see what was going on.

Concrete floors were covered by bodies. They weren't really sure if all of them were still alive, but then again, it wasn't like they needed everyone to breathe. In the center of the room sat a man clattered in black. The black pants accentuated every good thing about his lower body and the black button up had the first three buttons undone. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, allowing inked skin to be revealed. His long wavy hair partially covered his eyes, parting right at the middle and creating a shadow that fell upon his eyes.

A bloody hand reached out to his leg, but barely made it, as it fell over the man's shiny black shoes. The man glanced down, his earrings dangling slightly with the movement of his head. His eyes fixated on the red spot of blood that was smudged over the top of his shoe.

He arched an eyebrow, face slightly contorting as he clenched his jaw subtly and stared at the hand that lay besides his foot.

Without hesitation, he stepped on the hand, twisting his foot as he stepped even harder, drilling the sole onto the man's skin. The fallen man screamed in pain as the sound of bones cracking brought him back to life.

"Please, stop!" The man pleaded, as he felt as if his skin was about to be torn apart from his already shattered bones.

The man stopped moving his foot, still applying pressure to the broken hand. "Clean it." He said in a low voice.

A long pause followed before he began to twist his foot once again and the man was begging for him to stop. He jerked his hand back and pulled on his sleeve to clean the leather of the shoe, looking up at the sitting man, hostility evident in his eyes.

Several people stood besides the sitting man, holding onto other people in what seemed like painful choke locks. Everyone was covered in blood and dirt, some had nasty bruises and cuts, but the majority were lying on the floor.

"What do you want?" The man on the floor spat out, his forehead beaming with sweat and he couldn't see the other man's eyes. The light from the lamp deepened the shadow over his eyes and nothing but his lips could be seen from his angle.

The man then leaned back on his seat, crossing his legs and arms, taking a more relaxed stance. He scoffed before chuckling darkly.

"Really? That's your question?"

Another pause followed and the man on the floor was about to talk back when the other moved suddenly. In no time, he had his legs spread and leaned down to be face to face with him. His eyes were dark and deprived from any pity or remorse as the man stared at him.

He felt petrified. Not only was this man unpredictable, but he was releasing a heavy amount of pheromones. It smelt bitter and sour and he wanted to gag, but the fear froze him in place. Before he realized it, he was moving away to vomit.