The Macconwood Wolf Pack Volume 2

"Goddammit! Son of a bitch!" Randall ran a hand through his chest-length beard and growled in frustration. Someone was trying to hack into the Pack's secure files. And he was getting close.

Randall regretted the recent update to the system's firewall. He added an actual alarm sound, similar to that of a fire alarm, to the mountain of alerts he'd get if someone got close to breaching their system. But he never expected to hear it.

The alarm was currently screaming in the background, annoying the hell out of his supernatural hearing. He narrowed his eyes and focused. This had gone on too long, but he had yet to shut down the SOB completely.

Randall oversaw all of the Pack's technology, software and security included. No one should have gotten this far into his system. Of course, tonight was his night off. He'd been down in the music room tuning his guitar when the "intruder alert" went off on his cell phone. He got a kick out of all things Star Trek, but this was serious business.

"Fucking POS!" He slammed the keyboard down as the bastard hacker froze him out of his own machine. He stood up and raced to the next station where Dib Lowell, his fellow Wolf Guard and Packmate, sat desperately trying to double up on their security like Randall had taught him. But he just wasn't fast enough.

"Crap, Randall! This guy is getting' around everything, man!" Dib's pale skin looked green in the reflection of the monitor. He was a pretty decent developer, but Randall had no patience. He needed to end this. Now.

"Dib, will you just give me the damn keyboard already!"

"Alright, man, sheesh," the redheaded giant rolled his chair aside as Randall leaned forward and took control of his computer. He exhaled and went to work.

"Oh, he's good! But I am better. Ha! Here you are, you bastard," Randall growled as he clicked away furiously on the keyboard with his long fingers.

He moved at incredible speed. Screen after screen flashed in front of his deep brown eyes. The hacker tried diverting his attention a few times. The traps he set were good, but Randall was too smart for that. He managed to focus on the lines of code that scrolled down the forty-inch screen like lightning despite the loud noise and thick tension in the air.

He was known for his bad temper. Especially when things were out of his control. What could he say? In his eighty plus years on this Earth, he'd become a control freak. Came from being alone so much, but he didn't care what anyone said about him needing to get out more. His world was online. He didn't need anybody else.

"Goodbye, fucker!" He punched a few more keys, then he clicked enter. The high-pitched squeal of the alarm stopped, leaving a sudden and almost unbearable lack of noise in the Pack's control room.

He turned around and sat back down in his neon green Herman Miller aluminum executive chair and let out the breath he'd been holding since his smartphone alerted him to the attempted break-in. The posh chair cradled his six-foot three frame. It made no noise as he pushed back and exhaled loudly.

Nothing but the best for Randall Graves, computer extraordinaire. The others had joked about him spending almost two-grand on a fucking chair, but it was his ass that sat in the damn thing for more hours than he liked, making sure Pack business was running nice and smooth. Hell, he might as well be comfortable.

He rolled his neck and shoulders. Five hours. He'd been tracking this fucker for five hours straight. The last thirty minutes had been the worst of it. The hacker had gotten past some of his more sophisticated locks. That's what set off the alarm, but he overlooked simpler ways of getting in. Various backdoors and such Randall had built into the system. He wondered why that was.

Like most of the newer computer nerds, this hacker lacked the skill Randall had honed over sixty-years of programming innovation. Perks of being a Werewolf. The fact he'd been around for quite a long time meant Randall was there from the beginning. He started out in the field of computers when no one took it seriously.

Hell, that was a long time. But he'd found solace in technology long before his Change. His father had worked at a Naval Air Station in Jacksonville, Florida during the Korean War. He was a mechanical engineer, a contractor not to be confused with a Navy man. Stanton Graves had no place for his own son in his heart, never mind home and country. He was a cold, solitary man, and an even worse Werewolf, forsaking his Pack for the bottle.

Sometimes when he worked overtime, Randall would go with him to the base. It was there that he met Dr. Grace Hopper. She had developed a compiler for computer languages and took a shine to the young Randall. She gave him a book that she was writing about computer code and he had devoured the pages, eager to try his hand.

Randall was no more than ten at the time, but he considered that to be when his love for technology had taken root in his heart. Now, he was an expert in the field, accomplished and learned. Some would even call him a genius, but he hated the term. But, before any of those things, Randall was a Wolf. He was on the Alpha's Wolf Guard and was ranked third in the Macconwood Pack.

Normally, he loved his work. He was a fan of technology. Overseeing the Manor's security system was a huge job. It included regular sweeps of all the in-house computers, their internet services, and the servers that held vital Pack information.

He took care of the Wolf Guard's smartphones and made sure everyone was outfitted with secure lines. He also wrote several Pack-only apps that were encrypted with software that only allowed Pack members access. Keeping the Werewolf secret was important and much harder to do nowadays with cell phones and the internet everywhere.

He also ran his personal business, Graves Enterprises, of which he gave the Pack back twenty percent as per his agreement with his Alpha who was a major investor in the firm. Rafe had wanted only five percent, but Randall wouldn't hear of it. He owed Rafe Maccon.

Randall had spent a great part of his youth consumed with Werewolf legends and stories. Rafe was the one who suggested he use it. More than that, the guy wrote an actual decree, stating Randall had permission to use Wolf legends in his work. Anyway, that was how he created the online role-playing game, WolfMoon.