I darted sideways and slammed my fist into his solar plexus, the blow precise and with enough power to break his sternum. He grunted and dropped to his knees, clutching his chest. Prowling behind him, I considered my options. Killing him would cause a void; an inconvenient one that would have to be filled. We needed to keep up with the training regime for all the packs, and I didn’t have time for pack politics and petty power struggles. If I allowed him to live, he would have to stake his claim over and over for a few weeks, but it served my purpose to have an alpha in place to run the north wing and its pack.
Standing behind the male as he struggled to breathe, I let his anticipation and fear build. Slowly, almost gently, I place one hand under his chin, the other on the opposite side of his head. He tried to shake me off, but I just gripped him tighter. “Think carefully before you speak. Submit to my rule, and you can keep your pack and, for now, your life.” I didn’t need to spell out the alternative.
There was a small nod of his head.
“Say it.”
He swallowed, fighting his instincts to tell me to go to hell. I inhaled deeply and tightened my grip just as his sense of survival prevailed.
“Fine. I submit.”
I let him go and circled until I stood in front of him. “Tell me your name.”
He held his chest and scowled up at me. “Father fucking Christmas, what’s yours?”
My punch knocked him to the ground. Spitting blood from a gash in his lip, he glared up at me through his blonde mop.
“As I said, I’m your alpha, and I am Prime of this whole fucking prison. No one will question it if I decide you are too much trouble to keep alive. So drop the attitude. My tolerance is hanging on by a thread. What’s your name?”
“Hudson.” He spat out a mouthful of blood and saliva.
“Where are you from?”
“Does it matter?”
A kick in the belly made him grunt. I shook my head. “Are you learning yet?” I dropped to my haunches, but stayed out of his reach. Raising my brows, I waited.
His lip curled. “Santa Cruz.”
I smirked. “Well then, father fucking Christmas from Santa Cruz. I’m giving you responsibility for this wing of the prison. Unless one of these tossers wants to kill you while you're down…?” I stood up and stepped back while I waited to see if any of the other males would end Santa. No movement. I shrugged. Fine by me.
“You’ll work with my beta to get up to speed on what goes on here. We don’t have many rules, but if you break the few we have, I will end you. No questions, no explanation, and no fucking warning. Understand?”
Santa nodded, looking to be in a lot of pain as he sat up. I couldn’t give a shit. He glared at his other pack members, who watched him with narrowed eyes. Yeah, one of them would challenge him once I left.
“Rule one: don’t challenge me or any of my pack: you will die. Rule two: you follow my commands when I make them, or you die. My pack is housed in the west wing—all people in the west wing bear my mark and are under my protection. Feel me?”
Owen sauntered to my side and tilted his jaw up. A single scar about two centimeters long marked his skin.
“All those who have that mark are under my protection, you hurt them, try and rape them or enslave them in any way, you are issuing a challenge to me. The only caveat is if they challenge you first. No alpha is allowed more than one wing. If you challenge another alpha and win, I will snap your neck. Those in gen pop are fair game for entertainment, but bare in mind, we all belong to the warden and we are here to earn him money. So if your kill count gets out of control, either the guards will deal with you or they’ll get me to do it.”
Santa nodded. “So you’re their bitch?”
I held his gaze, totally unmoved by his statement. What I was to the running of this place didn’t matter. Someone had to do it and right now it was me. Once Santa saw what we were all up against, he’d either try and take my position for its illusion of power, or he would defer to my rule