Whose Alpha c3

Chapter 3

Rhian was confused.

What was happening to her? She should have been done already, and back in her van. Curiously she got up, ignoring the eyes that were trained on her. It looked like it was just her, Carl, the restaurant owner, and the guards.

Everyone else was gone. To where, she had no idea about, but wasn't about to ask either.

She knew she had to keep putting on her act if she was going to get fed and get the watch she wanted so bad. She just wanted to disappear right now, but that wouldn't be any fun, considering she needed to make it look like she really was poor, and in need.

"Food..." She said to no one in particular. She was really hungry this time because it felt like a lot of time had passed since she had last eaten.

At seventeen, she had learned to cope with her life so well that she was never worried. But here and now, she looked like a charity case. The eyes were pitiful, and maybe that's why she decided to maximize on the fake pity.

"Please...help me," She added to her drama. It was then that she noticed that her bleeding leg had been cleaned up, and bandaged, she was even covered by Carl's coat. She couldn't help but feel horrible.

She had targeted the guy, and now, he had saved her.

As much as she wanted to say thank you, that was just a word that was never in her vocabulary. The heavens could say that on her behalf. For now, she had to find a way to get out of here.

The food was brought to her, and her tastebuds almost died of pleasure, as she subconsciously let out a moan. She didn't care about anything for a minute there, save for the food she was so busy devouring.

If this was heaven, then she would as well tell Satan that she was taking a break from her life.

However, she knew this wouldn't last, and she had to plan her exit perfectly.

If she was to get out of this, she needed to stay uncultured, not that she was cultured, but she knew how to read, that could count for something. Additionally, she knew how to identify her valuables for the ordinary things, after all, the souvenirs she borrowed from her targets were a reminder of her career's success.

After eating, Carl escorted her outside and tried asking her where she lived, and whether she needed shelter. But her answer was a no.

In as much as she needed to find a better home, she would do that on her own. She would prove to herself, and everyone who had abandoned her that she was a strong, and independent woman.

Sighing in defeat, Carl let her go. He couldn't help but watch the "poor" girl limp away into the dark. He wanted to follow her, but she clearly didn't want to be followed.

Defeatedly, he got into his car as his assistant drove them off. While he was thinking about the girl he had just helped, he couldn't help but wonder what time it was, and whether it would be safe for her out there.

As usual, he lifted his arm to check the time, but he was met with nothing, save for his rings.

Maybe the watch had fallen when he helped the girl. Telling his assistant to drive back to the restaurant, he tried thinking of where he dropped it. But that was the thing. Carlos Morgan would never drop a watch that cost him a fortune. It was always on his arm, and he even showered with it.

When the realization dawned on him, he was very furious and wanted to smash something, more particularly someone, but he wasn't even sure she had stolen from him. Surely, she wouldn't steal from the hand that fed her, no?

When they got to the restaurant, his worst fears had been confirmed. The girl he had helped stole from him. A few more steps in the direction she had gone, he found his coat, and the tracker he had installed in his watch. She was a good one.

On his coat was the message, sorry, not sorry.

Not even a thank you.

Not even a grateful sign for being fed, and all that. She was not sorry for stealing.

Carl should've gotten even more pissed, but instead, he was amused. He had been played for being kind. He had been played, and he lost. That too, to a girl who looked seventeen, he wanted to go after her, but that was pointless because she was clever.

He knew she wouldn't ever let herself be caught.

Tired of the night, he drove off, feeling stupid, and yet happy at the same time.

**

A few steps away from where the coat had been left, was a girl who felt like shit for being shitty, but she knew the world was never fair. She only hoped that her target didn't become stone-hearted from how she tricked him. She was thankful for the food, and the care, even if it had been just for a moment.

She had never felt the love from anyone. Not even her parents. It was therefore understandable that she felt good even for the little time she felt cared for.

She shouldn't have stolen from him, it went against her very principle, never bite the hand that feeds you, but tonight, she had been in a tight spot, and she couldn't help but want the watch so much.

She had known that the deal was a one-time thing, and if she screwed up she would never get the watch. But when she fell unconscious, all hope of getting what she wanted fell out of the window.

Having been a survivor on the streets for a while, she had to find a way out, and if that meant sitting down for dinner with the target, then she would do that. After all, she was her own master.

From her adventure of the day, she felt tired and sleepy. She slowly walked back to her van, the only home she knew, and slept the rest of the night away.

Tomorrow would take care of itself after all.

***

Chapter 4

Angelo

On the other side of the busy city, was the spawn of Satan, or as he was called, Satan's favorite angel.

Angels were supposed to be nice beings, but seventeen-year-old Angelo Morgan was nothing close to an angel. He was everything that was wrong with society, not that he gave a fuck about it either.

He was the kind of bad that no dictionary ever got a word for yet.

He was the devil reincarnate.

Mothers used the name Angelo Morgan used to scare children to sleep. He was Satan to everyone else, but to his loved ones, he was an angel.

Everyone knew he was not one to be messed with. He would hunt down his target, and make their faces look like ketchup, just by using his fists. No one ever wanted to even think of going against Angelo Morgan.

He was young, but he was scary.

Being alone for twelve years was bound to change a child, especially since he had the horror of seeing all his parents die right before him. They were attacked by rabid dogs, something that he would never be able to understand.

It had taken him years to accept the death of his parents, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he was cursed.

No one had ever heard of rabid dogs just showing up from nowhere, and attacking a family.

Stories were made up, things rehearsed, and he had to bear the brunt of an identity that was never his to begin with.

He would know that later though.

Having been alone for twelve years, he had learned to survive. The streets that he was once scared of, were now scared of him.

He was always a victim of bullying, of being called weak, especially since he was unable to defend his parents. His classmates had bullied him for not being a good son. They made fun of him for being an orphan, for living alone.

They called him names, but he was okay with that. After all, as long as nobody said shit about his parents, he would be a good person. As time went by, the school environment became unbearable for him. He felt more alone with the days that passed.

Everyone avoided him when he turned fourteen, and he thought it was because of his difference from the others.

He always believed he was stronger and smarter than all of them. But he couldn't prove it whenever they picked fights with him. He wanted to stay in school, so he suffered through the bullying, being called names, and all that shit.

However, the tale turned when his bullies took their shit a notch higher. Instead of calling Angelo names, they started making fun of his dead parents.

It had been years since the attack, and they were all good, but then a newbie in the school decided they would just see what provoked the ever so quiet Angelo Morgan.

They were provoking sleeping alpha wolf and they would get what they wanted. He was never going to forgive anyone who said anything about his parents.

It all started with notes on his desk then blood on his locker. He was okay with all that. He knew that the teachers wouldn't do shit to protect him, not that he needed any protection.

He was strong, and if he wanted to, he could beat up all the bullies, but he needed to get through school. He needed to finish school like he had promised his parents he would.

He needed to make sure that all the promises were kept, and that he didn't end up in a foster home.

He had survived all those years alone, and he was not letting anyone take that away from him. So when the insults on his parents began, and his patience also grew thinner, he tried to be the reasonable one.

He would always send warning glances, but everyone took him for a joke, after all, if he could defend himself, why then would he let himself be bullied, and trashed for over nine years?

They were not scared of him. But they should have.

They should have kept their distance from him.

They should have learned to take the hints when he gave it to them.

They should have been more careful.

He gave them a choice but they ignored it, and now he was going to show them just how costly messing with the Morgan name was.

He started fights in school, that's what the teachers were told, but he defended himself at the principal's office, saying he was just defending himself from the very bullies that the school had encouraged.

What had started as small fights had escalated now. The students had already learned not to mess with his family name because he had almost killed the newbie that tried that. Rumors had it that the boy had received multiple hits on the head, and was still in a coma.

They should have just been rumors, but that was the truth. He had sent a schoolmate to the hospital, probably for several months because they had teased his dead parents.

That was the first, and the last time, anyone ever messed with Angelo Morgan.

He had been a streetfighter, but no one knew that, and with the space that he was getting at school, he figured there was no point in hiding the bruises anymore.

They were never major bruises, but he made them look like he was going to kill anyone who tried mentioning his bruises. He pushed everyone away, and now three years later, he was still surviving. His reputation had grown over the years.

People had known of him.

People were scared of him, and while it wasn't really his fault, he wasn't going to give a shit about them.

The people who were close to him admired, loved, and respected him, while everyone else was either judging him from the safety of their homes, or running away from the roads he walked.

He was known to be rich and ruthless with the heart of a stone, but no one knew that all the money he earned went to the orphanage on the other side of the city, the orphanage that his parents had made donations to over the years before their deaths.

The orphanage where she was, the little girl he had taken a liking to, the one who would be the same age as him today, his angel who had run away. But if only he knew where to find her, he would drop everything, and look for her.

However, she was his secret, and no one ever knew of Angelo's secrets.

No one.

He had always been curious about the generosity of his parents, but he was never in a position to question them.

They were his parents, and he had no business doing that. After all, he was a young boy, one who was lovable, and kind. So even after his parents had died, he still made donations.

He still went to the orphanage to see her.

The girl who could make the world feel bad for being a nice place.