Chapter 3

“Jerks! Turds. You filthy turds! I should’ve roofied your drinks!” her scream tore to the laments of frigid quietness. She threw her nameplate tag at Makhail’s feet, tearing her shirt a little in the process.

The rip in her shirt from the safety pin had punctured the skin below her collar bone. A small red dot oozed on the skin, forcing Mikhail’s attention there. Vanessa then did the most unlikely thing, she hissed. And she could see Mikhail’s eyes widen to the sound her vocal cords could produce so well.

Her anger mingled with hurt when she caught his eyes on the sliver of skin she showed. She knew he wasn’t checking her out. Ryder gave preferential treatment to girls who could at least reach his lips. So his concern at the heels of drowning her in humiliation, without giving her a chance or a choice, provoked her.

“Do I smell blood?” The voice. Deep. Timber like. Spoken with measured perplexion. Words curled to the optimum perfection tongue, lit a frenzy in the inner lining of her stomach.

Her reactions were shifted like tectonic plates, and the human in her registered the quake on Richter scale. To derive the conclusion of irreversible damage. It said to get out of there before she broke apart. In front of Mikhail or just by the sound of that voice, originating from the shadows.

She confirmed the door to be slightly ajar, enough for a small hand to wrench between the two of them and peer it open. Then, her heart beat two times its regular speed.

Whirling, the small sprite of a person was here the one moment and gone the next. Mikhail picked up the thump of square heel against the surface but neither of his men could bring her back now. He guessed being small had its edge- speed. Surprised would be an understatement. He could sense she had piqued his friend, Noah Abel’s interest. Noah hardly felt the decency to hide things, his mind was open to Mikhail and vice versa. Both are privy to each other’s innermost thoughts. 

Vanessa ran. And ran. Her eyes trickled water, blurring her vision. They weren’t tears, no. She refused to cry over this. Until the weight of her situation hit her. By then she had reached the other side of the back alley. The small dingy street behind the club where staff members parked their vehicles. She found herself bent over like a dog. Gravel hit her palms, dirtied her hand, and chalked her nails. She panted loudly, like a dog too. At that moment, she realized something about despair. It was forever tainted by hope. She did not have it in her to despair about how her knees had hit the curb too hard, abrasion had peeled off her skin and she was bleeding like children in the playgrounds did.

Her momentous bravery all but gone. She curled like a baby right there, in the middle of the road, sending silent prayers to her body and mind to calm down. It was near impossible but if she wanted to sleep, the safety of her bedroom will hold her better until she can hold herself. Not if she had to mortgage that as well….

She knew she stewed until she reached a boiling point. She simply, once again, held her ground and refused to have a breakdown here. She had a home. She was keeping her home. No mountain of debt would swallow it. She would see to that.

Her feet, also bare, red kitten heels dangling from her fingers carried her home. On default, she opened the lock, entered her home, heading straight for the shower. Her body’s collective strength ebbed away with every step she took to her small, encasing bathroom. The warm water beat her back in the ferocious stream. Blood no longer lingered, the worry did. The way she had left things, all three of them, Mikhail, the mystery man and her, knew this was far from over.

Tucked in bed, she saw on her window the shadows fighting, both hers. One caused by moonlight and the other by an oil lantern she kept in the corner. She felt the same trepidation, two opposing forces chipping away at her. Regret and curiosity. Curiosity, given her condition, she better avoid. The mystery man’s voice, “Did someone bleed?”, how nonchalant, how much an afterthought, stung her reservoirs, she wasn’t even aware she had. Her fears snubbed the comfort of a home, and she fell into a restless sleep.

It was after breakfast in the morning after, when her fears came neatly packaged and plastered on her doorstep. Someone had abused the side of her old wall, a small gap between the window and door to pin a thickly covered letter with a shiny new nail. The reasons were obvious, they didn’t want the letter to be covered in snow or be blown away in the wind. And it definitely caught her attention, didn’t it? Tentatively picked it up. Her wolf smelled pine wood and juniper, but that was no derivative of any clue, everything here smelled the same. Like the trees.

Her instincts doubled over because if they didn’t know the contents, they definitely knew the sender. Curiosity solidified to apprehension, she ripped open the sealing right on the porch. Maybe Mikhail had someone watching her from the shadows to confirm whether she received his message or not, she wouldn’t put it past him. Well, how is this for confirmation?

There is a moment, a thin line between bravery and stupidity people need to carefully tread on. She had blurred those yesterday, and she was ready to face the consequences. They won’t send her to prison right?