The Wolf House | OffGun - TayNew |

03 | Jumpol

The clock in the office was ticking loudly.

It was, however, more of a solace: the audible enunciation of each passing second meant everything in his office was silent and still. Miles better than those bumbling idiots in Parliament that debate all day long without any profound resolution. There was this deep desire in his heart to stand up and snatch the Prime Minister's title just for himself. But, alas, it cannot be so. Being in power meant being in a spotlight, in the line of scrutiny, and Jumpol Adulkittiporn was not someone who relished the attention. He didn't like greasy hands and greedy eyes probing on his life and on who he is. It was better to be in the shadows. It had a clearer view—a more undisturbed view—of the playing field.

A wolf like him liked to play the game with everything to his advantage.

There was a knock on the door, breaking the silence and relieving Jumpol of a sigh from his chest. He leaned back on his chair, watching the golden knob of the door and almost contemplating not to answer. It could be important. With finality, he relinquished any desire to be undisturbed.

"Yes?" he spoke loudly so the one behind the wooden door could hear.

"Sir," the voice of one of the female interns replied, opening the door ever so slightly, "there's a journalist that's here to see you."

"A journalist?"

"Yes, sir, he was insisting."

"Let him in," said Jumpol.

"But, sir, the—"

Jumpol raised his eyebrow. "Let him in."

The intern reluctantly bowed her head and scurried off like a little mouse that had come face to face with a fearsome predator. Though Jumpol didn't like being viewed as cold and relentless, he didn't like people who were not family or part of his pack get too close to him. He liked his privacy, he liked being able to do everything in his own accord—even if it made him look like a person whose heart was made of stone. It was a necessary evil and he lets it happily perch on his shoulder like a demon.

Seconds have passed and a brief shadow stretched across the hallway. Jumpol watched it get shorter and shorter through the open door of his office until—

"Look at you in that chair, phi. You look fucking regal."

"Newwie, don't swear in my office. Someone might hear you."

"Oooh." New closed the door behind him and sat down on one of the chairs across Jumpol's desk. He was practically glowing and yet there was this strange aura that was enveloping him. Jumpol couldn't decipher what it was but he was certain it was the reason why New had decidedly popped up at the Ministry in an ungodly hour. "Are you gonna be this formal the whole time I'm here, phi?" New sucked back a grin. "This is hardly like you."

Jumpol raised his brow. "What, you want me to fucking swear too?"

New gave a slight shrug, a glint of amber in his eyes. "That's more like it, phi."

For someone who was part of the pack, New didn't look at the slightest like an omega. He didn't act like one nor does he like to be treated as one. You could say the same for the rest of their pack of six. Two alphas and their two omega mates, and two betas — Jumpol and his partner, Gun. It was a strange dynamic, there was no denying about such predicaments. Surprisingly though, their pack has lasted for more than two decades and that spoke to how much connected they were to each other. Yet now, as New sat across him, Jumpol's talent could not unspool New's brain so easily.

"You're not here to have a chat," said Jumpol. "A reputable journalist knows to ask the best questions when in the presence of a public official."

"True," New easily agreed. He leaned closer, the light smile and playfulness in his eyes evaporated. "Especially if it concerns his pack."