The Alpha King Call Boy: Chap 47-128

Third Person

“An interesting place to meet.” Fiona’s father, dressed

in a dark brown suit, had his hands in his pockets and was looking around with judgmental amusement.

“It’s not as if we could meet at my home,” the Queen snapped, giving him a severe look. They were at the home of another nobleman, one who owed Scarlet many favors, and had just retreated into a rather old-fashioned library at the back of the house in order to have a private conversation. The bright morning sunlight pouring in through the high windows illuminated thick, swirling clouds of dust motes everywhere.

He met Scarlet’s glare easily, an arrogant smile curling his lips. “You sure have lost a lot lately, haven’t you? Including that nice penthouse office downtown. And, of course, all the leverage you’ve been holding over me recently.”

“Yes. Fine.” Scarlet ground her teeth unconsciously.

She heard the sound of her molars scraping against each other and reminded herself to loosen her jaw.

“It’s true. And believe me, I wish it was not you that I needed to turn to right now, but seeing how as my life is on the line, I have had to swallow my pride.” She crossed the small room and approached the Alpha leader of the Red Moon Pack, a disreputable nobleman who she had alternatingly considered ally and opponent over the years. “I implore you. Allow me to explain to you why I need precisely your help, and why it’s in your best interest to give it to me.”

The nobleman rolled his eyes. “Alright. I’ll bite. What is it that you want?”

Scarlet gestured to a pair of armchairs beside the fireplace. They sat, facing each other, with the orange glow of a low, smoldering fire flickering between them.

“What I want is simply to ensure that our tracks are covered,” she began vaguely.

“What do you mean, our tracks?”

“You know what I mean. I am concerned, in light of the pending investigations against me, that we missed something when we were cleaning up after the last time that you and I collaborated. It was over a decade ago, but surely you remember?” A devilish smile flickered across her lips, then was gone, replaced by a grimace. “The girl that got away. The witness. We need to find her.”

The man grunted. The wrinkled skin of his face and neck was growing redder and redder as Scarlet spoke. Yes, of course he remembered everything she was talking about. But he did not agree with her about the witness. “The girl is as good as gone,” he grumbled. “Why go digging around for someone you want to stay hidden?”

“Why?” Scarlet echoed incredulously. “To kill her, that’s why.” Now it was her turn to roll her eyes at her begrudging co-conspirator. “We need to make sure there are no loose ends. Alexander seems to have a skill for catching onto those.”

“Why?” Scarlet echoed incredulously. “To kill her, that’s why.” Now it was her turn to roll her eyes at her begrudging co-conspirator. “We need to make sure there are no loose ends. Alexander seems to have a skill for catching onto those.”

“And why bring me back into this? The way I see it, you are the one under investigation. Sounds like this is your problem.” He narrowed his eyes, feigning confidence and hoping against hope that Scarlet’s next words were not going to involve a threat of blackmail.

“I will implicate you.” She cut right to it. “If, in the

course of my trial, these events from the past come to light, I will name you as a conspirator.”

He growled, his upper lip twitching with frustration.

“And what do you want me to do, exactly?”

“Find the girl and kill her.” Scarlet said this as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “You can do it however you like,” she added, “though I would like to see the body afterward. Just to put my mind at ease.”

Fiona

Maybe it was the greasy, sugary diner breakfast that had my stomach upset, or maybe it was just being pregnant. Either way, I was in and out of the women’s restroom all morning, until my stomach was confirmed empty.

I was on my way back into my office from one of

these unfortunate excursions when I heard my desk phone ringing. I hurried my pace to try to catch the call, and snatched up the receiver as soon as I reached the desk, answering without a glance at the caller information on the base unit.

“You’ve reached Fiona,” I answered. “How can I help you?”

“Fiona.” The voice that responded, stating my name back to me, was all too familiar. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

“Father.” I sat down carefully, swallowing back a swell of something rising up in my throat.

He made a scoffing sound. “You are a disgrace, you know that?” His voice was slurry, telling me he’d been drinking. But his words hit me like a punch to the gut anyway.

“Yes, I know,” I found myself answering sarcastically.

“You have told me already, Father. Now if you’re quite finished repeating yourself, I need to return to work.”

“I’m not finished,” he growled shakily. I should have just hung up. Stubbornly, though, I did not want to give him the satisfaction of any sort of emotional response. “This is all your fault,” he said. “You abandoned your family. You betray your true pack every day that you stand beside that beast.”

My duty as Alexander’s Luna was activated at that.

“Don’t you dare speak about Alexander like that. That

“beast,” as you call him, will be your King. And he is a better man that you could ever hope to be.”

The last part came rolling off my tongue, though as I

said it, my fiancé’s recently uncovered deception did return to my mind. The point was still valid, though.

Alexander may have been dishonest, but my father was abusive, greedy, conniving, and stupid. And also a bit of a drunk.

“And you, daughter,” he replied, his voice dripping with disdain, “are a traitor.”

“I am no such thing.” My hands were shaking, but my voice remained steady. “I was loyal to you for many years, even when you did not deserve it—”

“You lie! You were never loyal to me, only to your grandfather. You have no respect for your own father.

You never did.” He was getting louder and louder, angrier and angrier with every word.

I had to cover the receiver with my hand and take a long, slow breath to keep myself calm. It was not a

conscious decision to continue listening to my father’s verbal abuse. A masochistic curiosity kept me on the line, though, wanting to know why he was calling me now, after leaving me alone for weeks.

“And you’ve always got to go and stir the pot,” he continued, even louder still. “Always sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong.” He laughed dryly, and the sound made my blood run cold. “You’re a troublesome bitch, Fiona, and a slut whore.”

My hand and arm reacted before my mind could overthink and freeze them, slamming the receiver down to hang up the call. Enough was enough.

My father’s words rang in my ears. They were not true, and had only been said to hurt me. But they did hurt.

Suddenly my stomach heaved again, catching me by

surprise. I snatched up my wastebin and held it in front of me as I doubled over. But I was dry, with absolutely nothing left inside.