Alpha Omega 03 - Fair Game

Charles used to handle or oversee.
    “You feel guilty for executing them,” Isaac said, dragging Charles’s attention back to him. “I get that. But I don’t get why you should. Were they crying like babies? Because that really sucks when they do that. Was it Robert, their Alpha? I heard that garbage he was passing around. Their victim was a bastard who deserved to die. Fine. If they were sure he was guilty, kill him somewhere quietly and get rid of the body. If you ask me, I’dhave executed their Alpha, too, for being incompetent enough to let them get so out of control that they left him for civilians to find.”
    “Had this happened before we came out,” Charles said, “I could have let them live.”
    “Could you?” Isaac said. He shook his head. “If they had been in my pack, I’d have killed them. Now, ten years ago, whenever.”
    Charles read the truth of that in Isaac’s voice.
    “It didn’t matter to them that the guy was dirt,” Isaac said. “If they were after a righteous kill, they wouldn’t have eaten him. If they hadn’t been hunting in a pack, they probably wouldn’t have killed him, either. They were dumbasses. They were out of control. And you can’t have dumbass out-of-control werewolves. Not now. Not ever. And it was their Alpha’s job to make sure they weren’t dumbasses. I know better than to send a pack out hunting when we don’t want a bloody mess to result, and I haven’t been a werewolf half as long as Robert has been Alpha of his pack. And he couldn’t accept the blame—oh no. They were the good guys; he wasn’t going to kill the good guys—because he knows it was his fault they needed to be killed in the first place. So Bran must send you out to kill them. I bet that f—” He cast a panicked glance at the phone and bit his lip and finished more quietly, “I bet he said all the right things, all the polite things, and still made you feel like a murderer, right? He did it because he knows it’s his fault and he can’t admit it to himself so he’s looking for someone to blame. And they all know, we all know, that right now we werewolves cannot afford headlines like we’ve been seeing in Minnesota.”
    It was truth as Isaac felt it. And it sounded right. Maybe he’d been listening too hard to Robert and not thinking clearly.
    Charles took a deep breath. “Anna knows how people work,” he said. “She’d have seen it, too. But I don’t bring Anna with me anymore.”
    “It makes sense, though, right?” Isaac said.
    “If you weren’t already worn-down with the killing,” said Bran heavily, “you would have recognized the truth yourself. If I weren’t so busy trying to justify something that has less to do with justice than expedience, I would have seen it, too. Just because it was necessary, doesn’t mean that it wasn’t the right answer anyway.”
    “One of the wolves had been a wolf for less than two years,” Charles said.
    “Too bad for them,” said Isaac. “They chose to give in to the wolf at the wrong time. They chose to hang out with idiots. They chose to act as they did. They chose their own death and you were just the delivery system.”
    “I think,” said Bran, “that the Minnesota pack needs a different Alpha.”
    “Agreed,” said Isaac.
    “Charles,” said Bran. “Where is Anna?”
    He pointed southwest, unaware until he did so of how accurate a fix he had on her. “Ten miles that direction.” He couldn’t tell anything else, couldn’t touch her mind, but he knew where she was.
    “Find her,” his father told him. “And take these people down. Avoid killing them if you can—remind your wolf that jail is a much worse sentence than death. If we can help take them down with minimal violence, that would be good.”
    “Yes,” agreed Charles, though his da had already disconnected.
    “Are you all right?” asked Isaac.
    Charles gave him a shallow bow of respect, one dominant wolf to another. “Better.” Not fixed, not anywhere near normal, but he couldn’t find it in him to care one way or the other, because now he could find Anna. “I have a lock on her. What’s ten miles in that direction?”
    “Islington, Dedham, Westwood. Milton, maybe. I know my way around here by road, not as the crow flies. We’ll have to consult a map to be sure—and how certain are you of the ten miles?”
    “It’s close to that,”Charles said. He considered just getting into a car and following his link, but it would probably be