Midnight Guardian

by Tamara White

  For a second, I imagine just what it would be like to be under all that power, but it’s washed away with a proverbial bucket of ice-cold water when the guy catches sight of my scars.

  His mouth drops in shock, openly staring at the scars that stretch across the left side of my cheek. My body stiffens with the sting of rejection as he gapes at me, trying to cover his gaffe, but what’s done is done.

  You’d think I would be used to people gawking at me like I’m nothing more than a sideshow freak, but it still stings. Not just that, but my scars are a constant reminder of what I went through and what I survived to get them. And what I lost.

  Growling under my breath, I snatch my stuff from him, going into my room and slamming the door in his face before he can come up with some excuse for his reaction or ask about what happened. I press myself into the door, trying to ignore the sting of tears, but some days I honestly hate what my life has been reduced to. I miss Drake and Jordan. I miss my parents. But most of all, I miss Jarrod. I miss his playful energy that made me smile no matter how corny he was being. Some days, I wished I could go back in time and change it all.

  Chapter Five

  Isobel

  As I stare around at my little room, I’m surprised by just how many furnishings there are in the place. I was expecting nothing more than a bed, but there’s also a desk by the door, a small two-seater sofa under the window, and a TV that rests on a shelf that’s built into the wall at the end of my bed.

  It’s a little disappointing that there’s no fridge or microwave inside though. It means I’m going to have to get my meals down in the cafeteria. Guess it was a good idea to upload my ID card with a couple thousand dollars. Plenty of cash for me to eat what I want, whenever I want.

  I notice a door just off to the left side of the room and move toward it, wondering if they put a closet in here. Seems like a waste to have a whole mini room for clothes and not have a refrigerator.

  When I open the door, a grin forms on my face. If anyone was watching me right now, I’m sure they’d be backing away from the loon who’s excited by a toilet.

  But the idea of getting up in the middle of the night, packing my weapons, and going down the hallway to the bathroom to pee, only to come back, undress, put the knives away again, and go back to sleep sounds utterly exhausting. It would take a good hour out of my sleep. And considering how much I value my sleep, given how limited it is, anything that improves my night is a plus in my book.

  I’m still bummed about the shower situation though. Just because we’re supernatural doesn’t mean germs aren’t spreadable. We even get minor illnesses like humans, but our body is able to fight them off a lot quicker. So, while a human may be weakened with a cold for three to four days, a supe will usually only be down with a virus for a couple hours at most.

  I guess the best I can hope for is that the showers at least offer a little privacy, unlike the ones in the compound. Most of them were communal, very much like the local swimming pool I used to visit with my family.

  All the changing rooms had shower heads sticking out of the walls, placed two feet apart with no partition, curtain, or any other boundary. If we wanted to shower naked, then it was at the perusal of anyone else in the room.

  If they have the same showers here, then there is a strong chance someone will be walking out of there with a broken nose.

  Don’t get me wrong, I hope it doesn’t resort to that, but the chances that some uppity bitch will make a snide comment about my scars is very high, because somehow they just can’t help themselves.

  Men are usually okay with the scars, seeing them as a sign of all that I’ve overcome to have them, but women, especially the few I encountered in the council locker rooms, like to think that the scars on my body make me damaged goods. It took me a while to embrace the hideousness that is permanently etched on my skin, so I simply used to cower from their words. Jordan was the one to point out it didn’t matter what I looked like, I was their fucking Alpha. If they disrespected me, they were disrespecting the power I stood for.

  So the next time after one of the enforcers decided to take a crack at me, labeling me nothing but weak, I let go of my control. I gave in to the new animal instincts that were pulsing in my veins and I went on the offensive. That bitch Karla never said a bad word against me again, even going as far as requesting to train with Drake and Jordan to improve her own skills. We didn’t exactly become friends, but we shared a camaraderie. That was until I saw her on her knees, ass in the air, and being thoroughly pounded into by a man who was supposed to be my mate. I still don’t know what made the word ‘mate’ more special than fiancé when it led him to another’s arms.

  The females here won’t have any clue who I am, but I know there will be some kind of pettiness they display based on what they feel from me. Something to do with the way their animals react to me will make them lash out sooner or later, and when that happens, I’ll be quick to put them in their place.

  I used to wonder how animals survived at the top of the food chain, and now that I’m one, I know it’s pure instinct and power that keeps us alive. If I let them get away with shit, it compromises my authority among the pack. I mean, I don’t want to kill a bitch, but the anger I have rattling inside me is more than likely going to get me into shit while I’m here.

  Shaking myself out of my pity party, I set the envelope on the desk before putting my duffle and backpack on the bed. Then, I turn to secure the room. My room is practically a security nightmare compared to the hotels and apartments I have stayed in over the last six months. They all had key locks, along with deadbolts, and many items of furniture that could be rigged as an alarm.

  This room, though, is very limited in its offerings. The bed is immovable, welded to metal I didn’t notice when I first surveyed the room. I imagine it’s why the television is where it is. Because it’s the only real place that works.

  If I place one of my small bells on the window pane, it should alert me if anyone tries to open it. Plus, it’s high enough to deter people from being rash with their attacks.

  Which just leaves the door.

  The only lock it has on it is the card one on the outside, and given my own skills, I know anyone can hack into them with the right amount of effort. After mulling it over for a few moments, I decide the best thing I can do right now is move the desk to block anyone from entering. It will make it harder for me to get out if someone comes in through the window, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. Nine times out of ten, people are attacked from the door, so I’d rather go with the obvious protection than risk my life to an assault from the door. Besides, I’m more likely to be ambushed on the other side of the door. If someone attacks from the window, it still gives me every chance to dive out of the hole they make to get free.

  Once I’m sure no one is getting in my room without alerting me to their presence, I go to my bags on the bed and tip the contents of both out, smiling at the sight.

  Amongst the various clothes I’ve picked up over the past six months are all my weapons. Weapons I made with Drake and Jordan’s help, and the weapons gifted to me from various witches I’ve met in my journey.

  The moment Drake and Jordan knew I had witch abilities, they called on a local coven to help me learn how to strengthen my blades. It was hard to get the council to agree to me visiting a coven without them becoming suspicious of why, but Jordan lied through his teeth, telling them it was only natural to be curious of other kinds in our world. He made some spiel about me as Supreme Alpha needing to know all the supernatural races, which surprisingly enough worked.

  The witch we visited with showed me how to imbue my blades with strength. She also taught me how to make my bullets so lethal that a supe dies from one shot. No matter where the bullet hits, they will kill. It guaranteed that I could defend myself, even before I became a good shot.

  Inside the bags, I had hidden my spare gun and various different ammo clips. I made sure that not all are designed to kill
on the first shot. There are lead, iron, and other ones all made with a variety of poisons and even some that are soaked in my blood. Not only those are hidden in my bag, though, I also have five small custom-made blades that Jordan worked tirelessly with me to create, my silver-coated whip, and my sword. Even if everyone else thinks it’s nothing more than a machete meant for hacking away body parts, it most definitely feels like a weapon of power in my hands.

  I hide everything around the room within easy reach on the off chance I’m attacked my first night here because, let’s face it, you never honestly know who your enemy is until they reveal their face.

  Making quick work of putting my clothes and hunting gear on the shelf under the TV, I let out a sigh of relief when I can finally lay down on the bed. It’s made with plain grey sheets and has a lumpy pillow, and despite the bland color, it’s better than some of the hotels I’ve camped out in.

  I’m absolutely exhausted from being on the run these past six months, and not to mention my very confusing run-in with Jordan. Despite his assurance that I could find answers here, I don’t know what to do about our predicament. I want him, I have since the moment I fully came out of my rabid state, but to me, it was always a package deal. I could never have one without the other, and now that Drake has destroyed my heart, I wonder whether it would be a good idea to continue a relationship with Jordan. We may have had hot sex less than a day ago, but my mother warned me before I went off to college that hot sex does not make a relationship work.

  Despite my mom’s insistence of me settling down with one man, Dad made it clear that I should never just settle because I’m comfortable. He insisted my forever person would be someone I loved wholeheartedly and trusted implicitly. And while neither of them are here to give me advice in this fucked up situation, I think he was right. I love Jordan, and I trust him to an extent, but the big question is whether I can trust him with my heart. He was there when I first woke up in this world. He helped me ease into this new existence with kindness and compassion.

  When I woke up in this world, I was nothing more than a rabid animal, intent on killing any who came into the locked dungeon with me. When they stopped bringing people in, I started throwing myself against the walls in an effort to escape, my only thought on killing those who destroyed my family.

  After a couple weeks, my hope was waning. Finally, my body was unable to contain the shift anymore and I melded back to human. Naked, angry, and alone.

  Not even a few minutes after I turned into a human, people came in with tasers, and the rage forced my shift again, the wolf’s instincts to protect me overwhelming. Jordan, however, came barreling in, and amongst the mayhem, I nearly killed him. Sometime in the middle of the fighting, I passed out, unable to remain conscious after weeks of barely eating and sleeping.

  When I came to, he had my head in his lap and was stroking my fur. He was apologizing to me, whispering comforting words. Of course in that state I wasn’t exactly receptive and shifted in an instant, going for his jugular, but he was faster than me and stopped me by grabbing my throat in a vise-like grip, however, he wasn’t fast enough to stop me from leaving marks on his neck.

  I struggled in his hold, growling and trying to kick out with my hind legs, but it was no use. His grip was firm. He tried calming me as I struggled in his grasp, reassuring me over and over that he wouldn’t hurt me, that I could trust him. He explained that everything I was feeling and going through was normal, but I had to let go of the rage and killing instincts so I would shift back into a human. If I didn’t, then the council, the people who had stuck me in there, would keep me locked away for the rest of my life.

  As if to reaffirm that I could trust him, he let me go. He backed away and let me gain my footing, but did nothing else, simply waited. I huffed out a breath of air, unsure whether to trust him. But there was something in his eyes that told me he was honorable, that he would help me.

  So, I attempted to shift back and actually speak with him. Only rather than turning human, like I expected, I turned into another animal entirely, something which shocked the hell out of Jordan. He stood there for a moment, spluttering before he paled and left the room.

  When he returned later that day, I tried to shift back, but only ended up in wolf form. He quickly rushed out that he had turned off the security cameras in my room and disabled them from being repaired. He told me to stay calm and not to shift again as it would endanger my life. Then, he left and abandoned me for a while, returning later, but he wasn’t alone.

  During the time he’d been gone, though, my body had shifted back to human and I remained huddled naked in the corner. He introduced Drake to me and offered me his jacket to cover myself.

  They sat with me after and gave me food and water, the things the council had been denying me since they locked me away. They then explained that I was an anomaly and I could never shift into anything other than a wolf or the council would experiment on me and keep me locked away for eternity.

  Groaning in frustration over my first memories in this life, I pull my gun from the back of my pants and tuck it under the pillow, keeping the safety on. I reach for the burner phone I bought after Jordan left and program an alarm for just before midnight. Once I’m settled in, I take in a deep breath and let it out to mentally prepare myself for what’s to come.

  Ever since the attack, if I sleep alone, I dream of the night that changed my life in the most devastating way. No matter how I tried to stop them, nothing worked unless I was held in Jordan’s or Drake’s arms. Those nights were the only nights I slept peacefully.

  These past six months I’ve struggled trying to sleep without drawing attention, because of the screams that sometimes surface. Hopefully being here with other supernaturals who’ve been turned, my screams won’t be the only ones heard.

  The moment my eyes close and my body relaxes, I know it won’t be long before the nightmares begin.

  My heart races as the eyes of the Alpha wolf glow predatorily in the dark. The low, deep growls are the only warning I get before he lunges at me, drawing a scream from my throat.

  Right at the last moment, my dad pushes me out of the way, the wolf biting into his neck despite my shrieks. Dad cries out in pain, begging me to run, but fear has flooded my veins and my body is unable to move.

  The wolf drops my father’s body as blood oozes from his throat, but even as the life leaves my father’s eyes, I’m unable to move far enough to get free. I manage to crawl back a bit as the wolf steps over my father’s body like he’s nothing. It prowls menacingly toward me, its blood-coated muzzle twitching as those deadly canines shine in the darkness.

  I scramble back in an effort to convince my body it’s time to run, but it refuses to cooperate. Instead, I have no choice but to raise the pocketknife, knowing it will be useless against a creature of this size, but it’s the only hope I have at this stage.

  The wolf keeps coming, even as my hand shakes nervously, but it just lifts a paw and bats my hand away like I’m nothing more than an insect. In the next moment, it raises its other paw, but this time the swat crashes aside the left side of my face, and from the sting of pain and fluid trailing down my cheek, I know it drew blood. The force behind its hit was enough to have me shivering in terror.

  It positions itself over me, slowly lowering its head close to mine, and I know it’s about to rip my neck open like it did my father. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping like hell there is an afterlife.

  “No! Isobel!”

  My eyes snap open at the sound of Jarrod’s voice, and I whip my head around to see him running from the woods, a look of fury on his face and a large tree branch in his hand as he sees me surrounded by wolves.

  The wolves around us had already begun moving the moment they heard him, running at him, but that doesn’t deter my brother. He keeps coming, swinging the branch at the wolves. I listen to their yelps and try my best to get out from under the wolf above me. Its paw presses firmly on my chest, its claws digging in deeply enou
gh that I whimper in pain, forced to watch as wolves surround my brother, letting him hit them.

  I cry out in horror as the wolves around my brother stop yelping in pain, suddenly rising to their full height. A howl from the wolf holding me is the only instruction they need to attack. His cries for help echo off the trees and the wolf above me suddenly lets me go, quickly joining the fray. It looks like he wants the kill himself as he starts pulling wolves off my brother.

  I glance around for the pocketknife the wolf knocked from my hand and grasp it tightly before letting loose a rage-filled war cry as I charge them, throwing myself on the wolf over my brother. I stab it in the side, and it makes a big enough gap that I can slide in protectively over Jarrod.

  His eyes are staring at me blankly, and a sob escapes me.

  Suddenly, sharp pain in my ankle radiates up my leg seconds before I’m tugged from my brother with a strength that even wolves shouldn’t have. The wolf above me appears to be completely feral now.

  Panting with rage, I glare up at the wolf that took my brother from me. Knife still in hand, I stab the fucker in the gut. Its eyes widen, but I don’t stop. Over and over, the puny pocketknife shreds into this animal’s skin as I scream out with grief. They killed him! They killed my family!

  My body is slick with the blood seeping out of the wolf, and it tries to walk away from me, but I shove my free hand in one of the holes I’ve made in its stomach and rip the intestines from the thing that killed my family.

  I jerk upright with a strangled, pain-filled gasp, covered in sweat. A jolt of pain travels up my leg, reminding me of the Supreme Alpha’s stupid fucking mistake. It bit me and didn’t kill me. The witches explained that because I was bitten, and the old Alpha killed, I was their next leader. Not my brother, like I believe they had planned for.