Page 21 of Running with the Alpha's Son
“Max?”
I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. Someone has graffitied our house, scrawled a word in red spray paint across the garage door.
“Max you there?”
I can’t answer, I’m too busy staring at the message left in large, aggressively angular letters:
TRAITOR
TRAITOR
A team of five gamma wolves, security officers from Alpha Jericho’s forces, are outside my house. Big people dressed in black suits and wool trench coats, wearing the same sunglasses—must be standard issue—poking around in bushes, wandering the perimeter of our property, and talking into their earpieces. I feel like the president or some big pop star with private bodyguards. Like Whitney Houston or something.
“Seriously, Jasper, I think this might be overkill.”
“Until we know who did this I’m not taking any chances,” he says through the phone.
“My neighbors are going to think there’s a bomb threat or something.”
Jasper twists his lips together and doesn’t say anything.
“You think there could be a bomb?!”
“We don’t know yet,” he says. “Clearly we’ve upset some people. I’m…” He stumbles and pauses. “I’m sorry it’s affecting you. I should be there.”
I roll my eyes and smile. “It’s just a bit of paint. Sure, it’s not ideal, but I don’t think I’m in imminent danger.”
“Still, I said I would keep you safe.”
Oy, this again.“We have a SWAT team combing the area for suspects,” I say. “We’re going to be safe.”
“Are your parents home yet?”
Speak of the wolf-devil. My mom’s car is slowly pulling up the drive. She and Dad carpool to the train and I usually beat them home after school. They pull to a stop as one of the security guards approaches. Mom rolls down her window, looking from the guard to the garage and to the house, possibly scanning for further damage. Dad jumps out his side and approaches the garage door. Begrudgingly, Mom puts the car in park, rolls up her window, and exits the car as well. Why aren’t they letting them park in the garage? Maybe something to do with contaminating a crime scene.
The beefy security guards shepherd my parents toward the door.
“They’ve just arrived,” I say, turning my attention back to Jasper, who’s still waiting for my reply. “I should go talk to them.”
“Okay.”
“And you should get to class. Don’t flunk out of Harvard because of me.”
“I’ll call you later,” he says and hangs up.
“Max!” Mom is calling for me before they’ve even made it halfway inside.
“In here!”
Mom and Dad arrive in the living room with wide, concerned eyes. Dad is scratching the back of his head and Mom has her arms out, coming straight for me.
“Are you okay?” She grabs me into a tight hug.
“I won’t be if you break my ribs,” I squeak out.
“Who did this?” she asks. I can only shrug in return.
“What does it mean?Traitor?” Dad asks, not to anyone in particular.
