Guard Dog

Jullius followed the blood like a hound, enticed by the strength of its spill and smell. There truly was nothing like it. The power of life and death itself, seeping deep and red into the very same soil that might birth a bed of flowers. Shot dead like nothing more than an animal, and that was also what made this kill so unique.

Usually, it was all knives, but today, for the very first time, it was a gun.

He observed from as close as he could, watching the first responders investigate and talk amongst themselves. He’d get close enough to taste if he were able, but the entire area had been taped off. Still, he could imagine it. The dullness of a once bright light snuffed out, eyes unmoving and eerily still. A cold body— only maybe it was a bit warm since it’d been alive and kicking not too long ago— rigid and stiff. There would be no smell, nothing beyond the thick encompassing scent of iron.

This was truly perfect. It would do wonders for his book. A plot twist to keep readers on their toes, but a part of him ached at the familiar ritual broken as easy as a twig. He was just starting to feel close. Just starting to believe he understood the mindstate behind the string of murders, but now he’d been once again thrown off the trail.

The other murders had been angry. Drawn out. Tortuous and bloody. Cuts and stabs. Torn flesh and splintered bones. This one was quick and painless. A single bullet to the heart.

This was the first death that could have plausibly been considered self defense.

“Jullius,” a voice said, jolting him out of thought and back into reality. His gaze shot over to a familiar, unimpressed face. Sandy, the lead investigator for a nearly year-long case, ducked under the neon tape and glared at him from around the tree he’d unsuccessfully hidden himself behind. She sighed. “Do I really need to tell you again?”

“I didn’t interfere with anything,” Jullius argued even though he knew there was no point. “And I’m well out of your way. So, no, you really don’t.”

“You shouldn’t be here at all. If nothing else, it really isn’t a good look to be at the scene of the crime every single time.” She turned her nose up at him. “And you’re always punctual, too. Right on time. As if you know they’re about to happen.”

Jullius shrugged, shooting her a grin that twitched at its corners. “Call me tenacious if nothing else.”

“Tenacious,” Sandy mimicked with a snort. “You’re a pain in my ass, is what you are. Go home, Jullius. Unless you’d rather I send you an escort.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jullius relented. He already got what he needed. “I’ll see you next time.”

“For your sake, I hope that’s not true.”

For your sake, Jullius thought, I hope our killer is impartial to stuck-up betas that never got the memo to shut up and sway in the background.

She was a nuisance. All of the investigators were. There were all incompetent assholes that thought they knew more than they did. Truth was, none of them knew a goddamn thing. None of them had a lick of an idea what truly was going on. None of them knew even a tenth of what Jullius did.

None of them knew who the true killer was.

He chewed recklessly at his bottom lip on the entire drive home, chewing skin and sucking beading blood onto his tongue. Well. He couldn’t be entirely sure himself— no one could without a fair trial— but he was fairly certain. He’d suspected for a while who the true culprit was. He might have even confronted him about it if he wasn’t so difficult to reach.

Oh, he had his address. He knew which window led to the room in which he slept. Knew which bars he frequented. Knew his tics and charms. Knew his body and how well it moved. Knew the shapes of his fingers and how well they could handle a knife. Knew his birth name.

Knew that he was more than likely behind all of this.

But also, to his greatest disappointment, Jullius knew just how protected he was behind the shield of his family name. Many, many times, he had to remind himself that that was a good thing. Jullius wanted him safe. He didn’t want any of this to catch up with him, because he still had hopes to see him again someday. He couldn’t do that if he was behind bars for the rest of his life or, worse yet, put to death for his crimes.

Jullius wanted him protected, but not from him.

As he turned the many twists and bends of the road, he thought of him. He always did. They used to have so much fun in woods that looked just like these, and it still felt as if it could have been yesterday. They used to laugh and fight. God, how Jullius missed their fights. He’d never felt so alive.

His home, small and isolated and nestled between beds of trees and brush, was so alike the cabin they used to frequent. Owned by his family but seemingly ultimately forgotten, it became something like a second home for the both of them. When they weren’t at school or making appearances with their families, they were there. Together.

Always.

He parked his truck in the shed, immediately making a beeline for the front door. The second he was inside, he threw his keys to the ground and grabbed his laptop he’d left on the coffee table. What immediately greeted him when he swung it open was his own website. His blog entitled “Guard Dog” grown popular if only because the people of Gravson seemed to have a considerable nasty streak.

No one was scared. Not really. Just incredibly intrigued by the gruesome murders and always waiting on new juicy details to weigh in on. Jullius couldn’t really blame them. He felt much the same way only so much stronger because this entire case was closer to his heart than anyone would ever know.

Everyone besides him, that was. The prick.

Jullius could seek him out personally. It shouldn’t be hard, only it was. He couldn’t prove it much like he couldn’t prove anything, but he had a nasty feeling he was being avoided. You didn’t live in a town as small and intimate as Gravson and somehow always miss the one person you’d kill to see by complete coincidence.

But that was fine. Jullius had been a complete fucking idiot. He didn’t have to find him— he could always get him to come to him. That should’ve been the play all along. Piss him off a little and he’d surely come running just like old times. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity. His pride had always been much too big for it.

So he gave the people the new juicy details. His own two cents.

The murderer might not have been an alpha after all. No big, strong guard dog out to protect the little guys.

No, that’d been too simple. Too predictable, and what a shitty fucking story.

No. The singular individual who’d savagely torn apart too many alphas to count on a singular hand was no brave alpha at all, but instead a weak, bitter omega.

Jullius grinned to himself as he published it. It would work. It had to. The crime vultures could nibble on the crumbs he’d given them. Only he would know the more important detail yet.

The name of the man behind these murders was Mikalo Gravsonador. His childhood best friend. His god. And after too many years, he would finally see him again.