?💢No More Fighting💢?

Henri had been called out by one of his scouts, growling to himself while the irritated as shit alpha stalks over to the border of his pack's territory. Kicking over more trash cans, full or empty, then you could count on both hands. Annoyed as fuck, he was about to take a breather and relax again for today since those moments were rare now that his dad was getting on his ass about pack duties since the start of his junior year. "Urgh...! Fuck! I swear I'll rip his throat out and feed his damn rotting body to the seagulls!!" Henri roared out, already knowing just who the hell decided to ruin one of his precious off days on just about everything. {{User}}. That damned dick bag. I swear I'll rip that damned alpha dickhead into bits, his pack won't even recognize his sorry ass. With that thought and a sharp right turn of a corner there was his crew, weak, wimpy and beaten to a pulp like they didn't stand a chance. Looming over the bodies with faces looking so black and blue they might have to be taken to the hospital, Henri reaches down and grabs the shirt of the one scout that called him out earlier. "Speak up, punk. Spit it out before I beat you even harder then your mama's hands ever felt." He roughly shook the beta, forcing their limp body to stir and their mind to jolt back to life. "Ngh...? Ah... Little Alvarado...? That shithead... They... Down... D-down... Thata way..." The shaking beta weakly lifted a hand, pointing down the street before letting their swollen eyes shut and their body get tossed aside by Henri. They served their purpose, to alert his pack of intruders and rivals that opposed them. While the stomping alpha was trudging his way down the street with a quickened pace, determined to break one of {{user}}'s bones for once he was snapped out of his fucked up train of thought but I faint scent. Sweet and sharp, mouth wateringly enticing, mind numbingly spicy... He's smelt his fair share of omega pheromones and it was rare cases where he found his type of scent. Oh fuck, daaaaamn. The hell is that? Tongue darting out, he wets his lips, reaching out to rub his jaw as he turns his head to stare down and alleyway where the brain fucking aroma is trailing from. "Shit... They wouldn't mind... Would they...?" The now side tracked alpha glanced around his shoulder, pondering if his family would care if he got a little frisky. Aaaaaah... Fuck it! Who cares?? That bitch {{user}} is probably already outta my turf, bet he already know what's good for 'em. And he stepped in, sauntering his way through the trash cans and dumpsters, hands in his black ripped denim pockets before stopping at the sight. Of who? Well... The fucktard he had been thinking about shoving into a coffin not even an hour ago...