Athaliah: The Unknown Luna

Chapter 2: Haze

Chapter 2

Haze wasn't even awake when a boot hit his ribs. He gasped, his eyes shooting open as another kick smashed into his stomach, knocking the wind right out of him. He looked while scrambling against the wall. He sees three people. As he tried to get up, a fist plowed right into his face, he fell back down.

Haze hissed at them. “Asshole!” he screamed, and pushed back at the jerk who was trying to keep him on the ground. The guy slammed to the floor. One of the jerk grabbed his backpack just as he jumped up.

“Hey! What are you doing?” he barked. Two others flew at him before he could even charge at the bastard for touching his things. They pounded on his body, fists, and feet. He curled up like a ball to protect his face. A series of black dots started dancing in his eyes. Out of a sudden, the jerks were ripped from from him.

Haze leaned against the wall, sweat and blood dripping from his head. He was catching his f*****g breath, holding upd his broken ribs, and looked up. A bunch of guys were kicking and smashing their fists into the assholes that attacked him a while ago.

The assholes ran away down the narrow passageway where he had been sleeping for days after he was kicked out from the pack. His visions cleared. He wiped his sweat with his backhand. A guy approached him, holding his things.

“Are you okay?” the guys asked Haze. As if he didn't see the blood dripping from his face. The guy threw his things at him. “Be careful.”

Haze narrowed his hands and reached out his bag. Immediately, a stab of pain made him grit his teeth. He hissed. The guy saw him struggle. The guy grabbed his arm and help him stand up. He was like a small tadpole in his massive arms. He smirked. “How old are you? Why are you here?”

Haze scanned the others. The haircut, the clothes, the tattoos—they looked the same and they were looking at him, waiting for his answer. “I-I’m nineteen,” he whispered as the stabbing pain engulfed his whole being. Haze closed his eyes for a moment.

The guys shooked their heads, smirking at him. “You’re a huge fucker,” the guy with a shave head commented.

Ignoring the pain in his ribs, Haze shoved off the guys arm and took a step back. “Thanks for your help. It's big help, really,” he said.

“You're tall. Do you play basketball?” the guy asked.

Haze nodded his head. “I play football. Varsity. I was,” he corrected himself.

Fuck! It f*****g hurts!

The guy looked behind him with a knowing look in his face. “And now you're here, sleeping in a narrow passageway. Why?”

He tensed. “It's none of your business,” he hissed. This guys haven't seen him struggle. He had no f*****g idea about his everyday burden. After living alone in an alley for almost five months, he's hungry, furious, and irritated. His jaws clenched and his hands formed into fists. Sudden anger inflates as the memory of his father plowing a fist in his face after drinking too much alcohol—again.

He caught their expressions changing. They must have seen the anger in his face. Instead of being angry with him, they smiled at him. The guy that helped him moved closer to him and extended his hand. “I’m Alexios Baratheon.”

He scanned them and none of them seemed to want to smack him to death. They were all eager to help him. They even smacked those fuckers asses to help him.

Another guy stepped closer and smirked at him. “Haze Theon Gran.”

Alexios smiled. “Good name, right?” He pointed at his broken ribs. “We got someone to help you fix that.”

Haze eyes furrowed. His body tensed. “I’m fine. I don't have anything to offer, and I won't suck your d**k. I was offered too many of those here and I won't do it.”

Alexios and the other guys behind him burst out laughing. “I am not that hungry for a lick,” he laughed. “Unless, it's a woman offering.”

The rest of the guys laughed again at their brethren’s joke.

“Why are you helping me?” Haze asked, as the tension in his body slowly fades away.

Alexios snaked his arms around him and helped him stand still. “Because when a brother needs help, his fellow brothers come to help.”

Haze gasped for air as a more intense stab of pain hit his nerves. His eyes narrowed. “We have a place for you to stay, food to eat, and we can find work for you.”

“I can eat whatever you offer,” he said, almost a whisper.

“Well, you're eating a wet p***y tonight.”

Laughter erupted as Alexios helped him to the truck. They left downtown and out toward Spring street. They turned and drove down a dirt road until a house came into view. Dozens of people were coming in and out of the house. Some are talking, drinking, and others were dancing. Music blasted the whole area.

“This is our pack house,” Alexios said. Haze looked at him with confusion in his face. He must been about twenty, or something.

His body tensed at the words. “What do you mean?” he asked, confused. He was cast out from his pack and now, he is in another pack. The irony.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a bortherhood house. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Alexios took him into the house. A group of guys were in the massive kitchen. They wore fancy clothes, more bigger, and more smarter.

A guy with a shave head stood up. “Who’s this?”

“Haze,” Alexios answered. “Beaten up in an alley.”

The guy grimace. “Drake is at the back,” the guy said.

They took a turn and out into the back of the house. “That’s Theo,” Alexios said. “The shaved head.”

Haze nodded. Another wave of pain made him winced. He followed Alexios down to the back. Another room came into view. They entered through the door. The room was wood paneled, medicines were piled on a long table.

Laughters erupted down from the hallway, men drinking, laughing, talking, and Haze realized he doesn't have any friends. Yes, he's an Alpha's son, but he was neglected, and casted out as a rogue.

“Are you okay? You looked tense,” Alexios spoke behind him. Haze gave him a nod. Alexios pulled him into a smaller room down the hallway.

The room was painted with white, there's a small bed, an IV fluid holder, he doesn't know what it's called. It's a thing where you hang an IV fluid bag that's attached to a body, or whatever you call it.

A guy stepped out of nowhere scaring the s**t out of him. The guy held out his hand. “I’m Drake.”

“Haze,” he answered.

“He's a medic,” Alexios said, pointing at Drake. Alexios tapped Drake's shoulder.

“Sit on the bed,” Drake said and sent Alexios away. He stitched the cuts on Haze body and strapped up his ribs to put it back in place and not to cause discomfort.

The whole time he was being taken cared of, Drake was telling him about the adventures he had, the missions he accomplished, and the family he lost. It felt like Drake was like him, in the past. The older version of him. He was an outcast, found a new family, and a pack he served.