4 - Accessory

~Hazel’s Point of View~

Eminem’s “Shake That Ass” blares throughout the large house and everyone was indeed doing just that. I was no exception. I loved the beat, I loved dancing. 

I’d deal with the consequences tomorrow, like usual. 

“Here beautiful,” a male says, handing me a beer. 

Hardly my favorite drink but what do you expect at a frat house? Everyone was home for the holidays so they opened up their invite list to high schoolers. When Ginny texted about it, wild horses couldn’t have stopped me. I wanted to get myself out, away from the high school crowd. Moreover, mingle with people who DIDN’T know who I was, that was key.

I wasted no time popping the can open and throwing back the awful liquid. I just needed to feel … something else. Forget my dad yelling at me, forget the bullshit with school. Making my mom cry. Okay that I felt bad about, and certainly being here wasn’t gonna help that.

But mostly, I wanted to drink to forget the smug fucking look on Punch’s face at the airport. He’s the child my parents always wanted. Loyal, obedient, doesn’t complain. 

I was loyal without a doubt, when it matters. But the other things, ehh not so much.

Warmth surrounded me as I finished my beer and sat it down. I leaned into it as the song changed, Uptown Funk.

My hands went in the air and my hips moved even more. I knew it was short lived, feeling the beer coursing through me, the general mood in the air. I hadn’t been to a proper party in so long, I forgot how much I craved it. I was an extremely social person, I didn’t do well being alone.

I was home, I wanted to celebrate. 

“Wanna go upstairs baby,” I hear, just in my ear. 

He doesn’t know who I am. Hmmm. Let’s see what I can do here.

I just desperately want a hot guy to make out with, but he’s definitely going to expect more. Much more.

I turn to face him and give him my best flirty smile. He was at least eighteen or nineteen, clearly well to-do judging by his expensive clothes and watch. Not a shifter. Definitely just a fuck boy then, nobody serious.

It wasn’t as if my parents were trying to keep me as some fair maiden. They wanted me to date, from their approved list. And those names? All sons of either Flyers that would never join themselves or their familiars. Other packs they did business with and trusted. 

Naturally, none of them ever interested me. Because there was only one face that haunted me every time I closed my eyes. A touch I’ve had several times on accident, maybe on purpose … and crave.

A male I can never have and need to forget. Hard to do when we technically share parents. Even though he was never formally adopted, my parents are his legal guardians and I seriously doubt ANY other family would ever want him.

I wrap my wrists around the lame human anyhow as I take in several couples already making out. I lean in, smelling gin or something like it on his breath, which is a turn off. But damn it, he’s cute and dumb enough. 

His eyes flare with the recognition that I’m closing in and he licks his lips. 

“EVERYBODY DOWN,” I hear, making me freeze. Suddenly the music flips off and the lights go out as if the power went off. There was just a bit of light from the street peering in.

“Fuck,” the male in my arms whispers.

I turn to see at least four large males in full black, with ski masks over their faces and large guns.

Huge … guns. I completely freeze. This male behind me is completely worthless, he’s sure as hell not saving me.

“ON THE MOTHERFUCKING FLOOR NOW,” one shouts.

Everyone drops, they begin moving over the crowd, taking wallets and jewelry. 

Shit! Shit! Shit! 

How could this happen?? Where the fuck is Ginny?? 

My mind flashes back to her going upstairs with someone as a hand grabbed my arm.

“Up,” a voice demands. 

I do as he asks, his gun in my face. I gulp as he begins to push me roughly.

“You have no idea who you’re fucking with,” I whisper. 

I wasn’t totally sure he was a shifter, but he has to be at that size.

He laughs. Did he already know who I was? Is that why he singled me out? Fuck, is this a vendetta or something?? I more than know the Flyers, and by extension my dad as the Alpha, have a lot of enemies.

Suddenly tape goes over my mouth, my hands are pulled behind my back. A gun, is pressed into my shoulder as the male pushes me outside. The cold from the wind whipping around bites at my skin. Damn it, my purse and my coat! Aww crap!

A bag goes over my head as I scream through the tape. I pull at my hands but they are bound tight and not moving. 

They are all fucking dead! Every one of them. My dad will have their throats!

I don’t give a shit if they are in a rival pack. If they’re the worst kind of criminals. My dad will have their damn balls in a jar!

My mind races, thinking about the fact that I am about half an hour from home, closer to the city. How long would it be before somebody knows I’m missing? Would Ginny have even heard the break in?

I’m so fucked! They’re gonna rape me. There’s no chance in hell they’re not.

Even with a bag over my head I squeeze my eyes shut as tears fall. But I’m careful not to sob, I won’t give them that. I have no doubt their animals will know.

“Scared … little female,” a voice hisses, just in my ear. The feeling of bile rising in my throat threatens, but I have to shove it down. 

I don’t move or say a thing. I won’t give him the satisfaction. The vehicle goes on for ten or fifteen minutes, though I have no semblance of time. My face gets soaked with tears thinking about my mom. She’ll be so devastated. How could I do this to her?

With a thud that jolts me forward, the vehicle stops and doors are opened. People move. I can’t tell if it was all of them. Whatever they are going to do, I couldn’t give them the satisfaction of begging, crying out. I’m a Dennison and I have to stiffen my back, remember what I represent. I can’t be weak.

When several minutes passed with no sounds or movements I began to wonder if they just left me. Were they fucking with me? 

I distantly hear another vehicle but that doesn’t mean much. This is near a city. There are people on top of people.

I began to move but a big hand grabs my forearm, making me stop.

“What the fuck were you thinking Hazel,” a voice says, the tone is low and … frustrated?

My eyes pop open as the bag gets lifted, revealing none other than Punch. 

I close my eyes as my entire body relaxes then immediately refuels with pure rage. 

“Fuck,” I shout, when he rips the tape off.

I am pretty confident I don’t have facial hair but it seemed the tape found some anyhow.

My eyes dart up to the arrogant asshole, I expect him to look smug. But instead, he looks too much like my dad. Meaning, he looks … disappointed.

“What do you have to say for yourself,” he says, nearly in a whisper. 

My hands were still tied and it didn’t seem like he was in a hurry to change that anytime soon. I make a pouting face, trying to figure out my play here.

Snuck out. Under age drinking, not that shifters care that much about it but my parents would. About to kiss a strange boy several years older than me. Nevermind all the other strikes I already had against me.

How had he even found me?!

“There’s really not much I can say. You’ve more than proven your point,” I admit, practically in the most humble voice I’d ever had. But I can’t look him in the eye.

I meant it though. He wanted to scare me shitless? Well it fucking worked. I have been spoiled, I have been sheltered. I know what the Flyers are, what they do. But my parents have kept me out of it. 

They don’t know that I have in fact seen and heard things. It isn’t “normal” for your father to come home with blood on his clothes. For your mother to take said clothes and burn them for him. It isn’t normal that everyone you know carries at least two guns on their person at all times. Some have knives, throwing stars. All kinds of things.

I also more than know what people say. They say my father is the devil himself. That his wolf, Red, absolutely is Satan. 

That isn’t the man I know and love. My dad is a big softie with me just like Punch. He’s done so much to build this community and it will be standing for generations to come.

“Have I? Or are we gonna be doing this shit again tomorrow,” he asks.

I blink as a tear falls down my cheek. 

“I just wanted to go out. I know it sounds stupid to you. I’m a spoiled little brat, nobody knows that more than me. I’m selfish,” I confess, in a whisper.

“We’re going home, you can say that to your mom who is worried fucking sick Hazel. That woman is a damn saint and you give her more grief than ten females could,” he whispers, shaking his head.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

I try to stop crying as he gets out his phone. Suddenly, a growl escapes his chest, making my ass fully jump off the seat. His face nearly changes to his wolf, his eyes go black. Before I could even ask he was jumping out of the van and then into the driver’s seat.

His anger told me not to bother asking about getting untied. The Punch I knew was always calm, cool and collected. He always looks like he’s thinking about ten things at once. Planning his moves, any possible outcomes. I can literally never tell what he’s thinking. Right now is no exception.

Soon I was being tossed around in the van like a rag doll, digging my heels into the floor trying to stay put. I was grateful they were Mary Janes and were strapped on, otherwise they’d have flown off by now.

“Is this part of my punishment,” I finally croak out, when he takes a corner too sharply.

“No. But I’m afraid you’re about to be an accessory. Can’t help that. You can close your eyes,” he says, almost in a warning tone. 

I gasped at the thought, is he about to kill someone??