Eye of the Alpha [ BoyxBoy ]

chapter ii [rewrite]

She returned it, giving his body a squeeze and placing a kiss at the top of his head. She guided him over to her small round table and sat him down. A mug of hot tea was placed in front of him seconds later.

As he brought it to his lips, Agatha watched him with caution in her eyes. He paused his hands, the mug lingering in front of mouth. "What is it?"

"Beau, last night you came into my house looking like a ghost had just walked through you and you've come down the stairs looking like a zombie," She explained. His Grandmother took good care of him, but the mouth on her was a little harsh at times. Saying what you thought ran in the Fitzpatrick family, but unfortunately in his case, it wasn't exactly something he could control.

"A nice hot mug of tea to go with a serving of insults. Good morning to you too, Gran," He commented, smirking softly, though the traces of happiness in his expression died as his hazel gaze dropped to the contents of his mug.

Agatha smiled herself, but hers too was weak. She placed a gentle hand upon his forearm as he placed his mug down on the table. "I'm worried about what happened to you. I've never seen you like that," She confessed, sympathy displayed in her eyes of the same colour, "I need you to be honest about what you saw last night."

He lifted his brow, "What I saw?"

She shook her head, as if she'd said the wrong thing, "What happened? Or – If anything happened at all."

His entire body tensed, and his grip on the mug tightened. His hands became sore due to the heat of the mug, but he didn't let go. It all came back to him, and when he opened his mouth, at first, nothing came out.

"I don't know what to do, Gran..." His voice sounded weak, shaky.

"Tell me what happened, Beau," She encouraged, her face serious, "You don't need to be scared to tell me."

But he should. He'd been specifically told not to tell anyone, or else. He didn't want to end up like that girl. But he couldn't keep this bottled up. He simply couldn't. Having to keep a secret like that, having it haunt his mind like it did all the way through the previous night. "I was told not to tell anyone."

"No one will hear it from me," Agatha said without the slightest bit of hesitancy. If there was one good thing about the Fitzpatrick blabber mouth gene, was that you were always honest. His Grandmother was by far the most truthful woman he knew.

"I..." He started, pausing to try and figure out how to put what he saw into words. It was so simple, and yet he couldn't describe it, "I... I saw a girl get killed last night. Outside of the coffee shop... I hid, but... but I was caught and I was told not to say anything to anyone..."

"What did the man look like?"

"I didn't mention – he was... he was weird... it was like I was seeing a monster," Beau's eyes finally lifted to his Grandmother, "It was horrible."

The next thing he knew, tears returned to his eyes, and he was just watching the images of the previous night unfold in his head, but Agatha's arms were around him, comforting him. "I tried to phone the police... but he threatened me, and told me I couldn't tell anyone..." He said through his cries, trying to stop himself from doing so. He hated crying. It felt awful, to be so vulnerable and pathetic, "What do I do?"

She kissed his head again and told him, "Don't you worry. I'll take care of everything. Leave it to me, alright?" He wanted to ask what that meant, because he had no clue how she could take care of something like this, but he didn't say anything. She just sounded so sure that she'd be able to, and he trusted that. He wanted to take the easy way out of this. He was disappointed in himself for being so dependent.