My eyes search the forest ahead with obsessive carefulness. Even in complete darkness, my vision is impeccable, so, when I catch sight of movement in a nearby tree, I rush to meet the intruder.I'm vaguely aware of Devin calling my name, but can't process that information above the roar in my head. It demands vengeance, it wants blood. I dash into the trees, and I can sense the urgency of my enemy. My legs strain against the effort of catching up to him, sidestepping a few tigs and fallen logs in the way.I follow the shadow of a man, chasing him wherever he takes me. He will not leave this territory alive. He's clumsy at best, tripping every few seconds. My heart jump starts in my chest when I crash against him, tackling him to the floor. His body cushions my fall still, the momentum reverberates in my body. I hear the trespasser whine beneath me. He struggles against me, but in vain."Do you have him?" Devin asks behind me. "Let me go," the man snaps. I smell the air as Devin help
I watch through the window as the alphas arrive, ready to wring all truth out of my mouth. My parents tried to appease my nerves but were unsuccessful. I feel dread settling deep in the pit of my stomach. What will they ask? How will I answer?I rub my tired eyes, to chase the sleep away. I barely slept after the argument with Devin, too preoccupied with today, and immersed in the memories. My throat closes as a lump settles in it midway, preventing air from reaching my starving lungs. My heart is heavy with longing while my mind cages me in the past. I'm acutely aware of the scars that paint my back. I force myself to remember the day each one was made, I dive willingly into insanity as the whip seems to strike once, twice, so many times that I lose count. Pain has a variety of forms; some days is just a breeze, a kiss from the wind to recall how much damage humans can inflict, others, agony is an ocean, the beast pulling me under time after time, drowning slowly but steady.A knock
I gasp for air as the last remains of sleep evaporate from my eyes. I sit upright on the bed while I gather my senses. I'm back in the bedroom Brian picked for me the night before, and yet, something appears different, there's danger lurking around every corner of this room, and I'm not safe.My body threatens to crumble as soon as my feet touch the cool tiles. I'm dizzy as my organism tries to eliminate the wolfsbane out of my system.I'm alone, for now. The clock on the bedside table informs me that barely an hour has passed since my trial began. As the events of the interrogation unfold behind my eyelids, anger rises deep within me. They were careless and inhumane, they could have killed me, and they would rule out my death as an accident.I grab my belongings in a flurry of movement; I won't stay here a second longer. I want to hit something, release the fury that I've been building since I left the hybrid's care. Most of all, doubt settles in, were the hybrids right? Have I been
The hours pass torturously slow as I settle into a new routine. I spend my days with a tutor, being homeschooled to catch up for the lost time. I stare at the pages, and all I can see is a blur of paint, a bunch of words that I do not recognize, the syllables struggle to get free of the cage that is my throat.Mrs. Hill tries to appease my nerves but in vain. There are no reassuring words that can eliminate the shame that rises deep within; how idiotic it is to be sixteen and not know how to write or read. The pens and pencils lean clumsily on my fingers, and the curves and shapes of the letters I try to copy are messy and childish.Natalie and Adam used to make me spell out loud every word, though Mrs. Hill says it helped my development, I see no improvement. I make an effort to practice in my free time, trying to speed up the process.The nights are reserved for research: every evening without exception, my parents and I gather around the kitchen table to go through the alpha's files
My eyes open slowly as the last remains of sleep wash through me. I look at the alarm that my parents placed on my bedside table, and I'm appalled by the hours: it's only 2:37 a.m. My ears soon find the reason for my brutal awakening as the voices downstairs get louder and louder. I lurch right out of bed and rush to the origin of the chaos, feeling my heart kickstart inside my ribcage as millions of scenarios pass behind my eyelids. "So, we wait until they kill all the packs?" I catch the conversation midway through and immediately freeze. My body fills with horror as I take in the sight before me: my mother sits holding her head between her bony hands as my father stands right next to her with a hand firmly staked on the dinner table.Henry tenses as he stares down at a paper I cannot read from afar. Devin paces the room restlessly with disheveled hair from picking at the dark strands one too many times."What happened?" I question with dread.Four sets of eyes turn abruptly in my
I fidget with the hem of my simple, black sweatshirt as my body fills with nervous energy. I recite the little lie inside my mind countless times, hoping the repetition might, somehow will it to be true. I check the arsenal of weaponry that I dutifully covered myself with as if they were nothing more than some beauty accessories, to make sure that everything is in order. I stare at my reflection in the rectangular mirror stuck in the inside of my closet that my parents recently purchased, as I tie my short hair in a ponytail. The mark on the right side of my neck is red and swollen, still healing from the attack I commanded a few hours ago. Despite that, I look menacing all clad in black with a belt firmly placed in my waist, sustaining the knives. A dark thin strap connects the leather to a tiny pocket in my right leg where I placed my phone. I lower the fabric until it covers the blades to avoid unwanted attention from outsiders and sigh in frustration when a lock of brown hair
Ryan starts walking ahead of me, getting further away from my house. I follow dutifully, trying to keep up with his long strides. "Late for what?" I interrogate, annoyed with the absence of a concrete mission to follow. Ryan smiles devilishly at me. "To meet our dear friend, of course." He exaggerates the pronunciation of the word, and I instantly know that whoever we're going to encounter is an enemy. I grasp the handle of a knife and hold it tight in my clenched fist. If there was any serious threat, we wouldn't be going alone, so I know this is more a test than an actual mission. "Does this friend know we're coming?" I ask. He chuckles darkly. "It's a surprise." My suspicions are confirmed, and I immediately relax. He wants to see how I react in a controlled environment, where he can step in at any time before he gives me any real information about the elite. Clever, I'll give him that. We walk at a brisk pace for fifteen minutes until Ryan suddenly slows down. I stare a
An envelope finds its way to my kitchen in the middle of the afternoon, a couple of days after my strange meeting with Ryan. I stared at the elegant, cursive calligraphy at the front, where my name was carefully written. Inside it was a letter written on the computer with a list of instructions that I had to follow dutifully. I had to travel to a safe house three hours away from my own pack to meet the Elite's leader in a week from then. In the directions I received, it was clearly stated that an excuse would be made for me. I crumbled the sheet as soon as Mrs. Hill- sworn to secrecy- helped me make sense of the words written on the page. Still, the fact that I was able to recognize and understand a few terms excited me in ways I couldn't describe. I'm finally doing something constructive for me, and the slow but steady progress only motivated me to try harder, to learn more. My parents thrill with my newfound passion, aiding me to the best of their abilities. I was receptive at f