Primal Promise

Twenty-Two

The morning was, this time, different. Douglas didn't come to torment her, neither of the other women showed up to cut her loose.  The sounds of construction had faded to nothing seemingly hours ago.   She was hurting from being so long in the chair, and thankfully they didn't give her much to drink so she was able to hold her bladder.  Still, without the morning trip, by late afternoon she feared she'd have to just go where she was, which was disgusting.

The man who stepped inside was no one she'd ever seen here. He was as incongruous as a ruby in a box of Cracker Jacks. He was older, but by how much she could not say. He might have been only in his late fifties, or perhaps he was in his seventies. He had one of those faces that made it difficult to judge. His hair was mostly gray, as was his trim goatee and mustache. He was dressed in a suit, and though she was no expert, she'd guess it cost more than her car.

He was staring at her unabashedly. She glanced away, then after a moment, she turned her attention back to him. "Cut me loose so I can use the bathroom, what there is of it." She kept her tone even. Polite at best, but it was a command, not a question. "Please." She added to at least be civil.

He seemed to come out of deep thought and nodded faintly. "Of course." He moved nearer and withdrew a pair of offset bandage scissors. She recognized the kind as she had a pair herself. The strap on her left arm cut through, he took hold of her hand as if he might kiss it, but instead, he was turning her wrist, inspecting the raw lines where the zip ties had rubbed. He sighed sharply and cut the rest. "Go attend your duties. I will fetch something for those abrasions."

He walked out of the room, and she took the opportunity to do what needed to be done. She exited the closet to find him standing by the chair with a folding TV tray set up, a first aid kit open on top of it. "Sit." He motioned to the chair. "And we'll get you patched up."

"Why bother." She asked quietly. "I know I'm never getting out of here." She didn't betray herself by looking toward the door. She just listened for any other breathing or footsteps that might betray someone in the hall outside.

"I regret that you've been treated so badly. It was never supposed to be like this." He motioned again to the chair. "Please don't make me call someone."

In the movies, the heroine would have run or beaten the old man up and fought her way out. That was the movies. This was real life and in real life, she was hurt and not a great fighter. Sitting as he bade, she put her wrist out. "What was it supposed to be like then?"

He eyed her for a moment after she'd seated herself, then sighed, tearing open a single-use pack of triple antibiotic ointment and squeezing a greasy line around her wrist. "I am sure you understand that people come in all kinds. I would prefer if the gents here would scrap these trailers and build something fit for living in. Certainly, they'll need to soon." He laid a pair of sterile pads end to end to circle her wrist and then with gauze wound about it, secured them before moving to the other.  

She gathered this must be the elusive voice on the end of the phone.  The one who'd been giving the commands.  "You must be their ...what, Alpha?"

He chuckled, moving to take hold of her other hand's fingers and lift her arm so he could work on the other wrist. "No. Alpha's don't exist in the wild. In natural wolf packs, the alpha has another name. Father.  Wild packs are just families. The smaller ones obey the older, wiser male because he's their father, no other reason."

"So you're their father?" She lifted her brows, dubious.

"No, think of my position like the mayor of a town. I am elected by the people because they trust that I will lead them well. I handle the politics, I have a council of advisers and helpers in different areas..." he finished wrapping up her other wrist. "But in the end, I'm the only vote that matters."