by Reese Morgan
Detecting no movement from either Cole or Nicolas, Hayden stood up in one fluid motion. As silent as her canine counterpart, she traveled over the soft ground without disruption. Fortunately, with the warmer climate, she did not have to battle with earsplitting snow and ice.
Neither Alpha male would approve of her actions, Hayden knew.
If she waited until morning and asked them to assist her, she had a general idea that neither of the two would agree to her plan. They wanted to travel through town undetected, and covertness was more important than rescuing a meager werewolf.
She’d seen the werewolf chained up. If she didn’t act, if she didn’t save him, the memory would haunt her forever and stain her hands crimson.
Brushing her fingers across her knives for reassurance, Hayden crept through the woods and towards town. She retraced the path Nicolas had led her earlier that evening, all the while, keeping her ears open. So far, no one had charged after her.
She had a head start.
If the werewolf wasn’t already dead from the silver lesions across his body, Hayden planned to release him. That was all. For what she had in mind, it wouldn’t take long. Though her two male companions would label her rescue mission brash and stupid, she hoped she’d make up for it by practicing caution with the wounded werewolf.
She would not lead him back to Nicolas and Cole, no matter how vulnerable he was. She’d offer him just enough help so he could escape on his own.
Hayden took a steady breath as she emerged from the trees. As expected, the crowd had dispersed due to the late hour. The vast majority of the town was quiet, dark, and asleep. She gazed around, eventually spying the werewolf in one of the surrounding shops.
It was truly an alarming sight.
The humans had placed the werewolf in a shop’s display window. A small light was on, just bright enough to eliminate the half-naked body. Though it was a late hour, the werewolf had his back turned to possible spectators. Even from afar, she witnessed the open wounds across the man’s body.
Nausea curled sadistically in her stomach. She’d been human for most her life, and yet, she couldn’t fathom the ugliness of their souls.
Crouching down, she surveyed the town with sharp eyes. The overwhelming smell of human made it difficult to discern if there were any in close proximity. The tantalizing scent masked the sidewalks, the roads, and even the shops. Just beyond the downtown area, houses were quiet and dark, hardly any activity from what she could observe.
Hayden sprinted across the road and crouched down next to a brick building. A lone human sat inside the shop, a rifle laying securely across his lap. Other than him, there was no other visible threat.
Turning her eyes back towards the werewolf, she stopped short, taking note of his absolute stillness. Maybe they’d already killed him and wanted to keep his corpse as an example for other werewolves. Alternatively, maybe he had succumbed to the silver poisoning in his system just minutes earlier and she’d been too late.
Before the devastation could set in, Hayden witnessed the werewolf shiver. She slumped in relief. There was still time.
Those many nights ago, on the night of the full moon, Hayden and Asher had been too late to save the newborn rogues from the Hunters. She’d been too late to save Rachel. She hadn’t been able to save Jax, nor had she been able to save those men and women inside Celeste’s hideout.
One human, one rifle stood in her way of saving an innocent. Even if it were just one, she’d preferred to use her abilities to protect a life instead of always ending one.
Consequences be damned, Hayden wouldn’t fail this time around.
Pushing off from the side of the building, Hayden hunkered towards the shop, her boots silent on the pavement. Quietly, she twisted the handle to the shop and peeked inside. All she could see was the lone human nodding off in his chair.
Keeping in mind there might be another threat behind the door, Hayden slipped inside stealthily, her stance defensive. Much to her surprise, there wasn’t another attacker on the other side of the door.
At her arrival, the solitary human jerked awake, fumbling with his rifle. Before he had a chance to aim, Hayden was upon him, jerking the weapon easily from his hands. Using the butt end of the rifle, she slammed it into his head, knocking him out cold.
Briefly, she examined the unconscious man. It was her first physical confrontation with a human since her transformation. A realization hit her hard. Humans really were weak. They truly had no chance of standing against werewolves if they chose extermination as their endgame.
“P-please.”
Hayden whirled around, staring at the pleading and desperate werewolf. She couldn’t smell his wolf, but she acknowledged that silver poisoning essentially snuffed out the canine attributes in a werewolf.
He was trembling all over, his eyes so wide Hayden could see the entirety of their whites. His curls were damp and limp from several days of built up grease. His body odor was offensive to her nose, yet she did not allow it to show on her face.
Her heart mourned for him.
As she took a step closer, hoping to gently sooth his racing pulse, he instinctively cowered and pointed shakily at the fallen guard. Grime caked underneath his fingernails.
“The keys.” He licked his chapped lips nervously, taking her appearance in with shock. His heart quickened even further and he avoided further eye contact. “H-he has the keys.” The werewolf tugged at the silver chain around his neck. “I… I need the keys.”
The keys… right.
Backtracking, Hayden crouched next to the unconscious guard and quickly searched his pockets. Her own hands were a bit clammy, perhaps out of adrenaline or even out of fear. She was eager to get out of the shop.
Underneath the mildew from age, the old shop smelt like urine, silver, and death.
Considering the anxious werewolf at her back was still alive, Hayden wondered how many innocents died before him. Did the humans display all of them in the windows for the werewolves and the town’s occupants to see? As warning?
Her fingers groped cold metal and she withdrew a small key.
“I found it,” she said unnecessarily, her voice a bit strained. “You’re almost free.”
As she approached the werewolf, she noticed his insistence to avoid eye contact. She’d never met such a submissive male before, with the exception of Fergus. But Fergus was an Omega, a silly and kind-hearted wolf who did not submit out of fear, but because he simply did not care to establish dominance.
Guarded eyes watched her as she unlocked the chain.
“Thank you,” he whispered, clutching the open chain and caressing his sore neck. “I… I haven’t seen you before. W-what is your pack alliance? Where do you come from?”
Hayden paused, feeling uncertainty creep in. While she hadn’t expected a sobbing and delirious damsel, she definitely hadn’t expected him to be alert and chatty, asking about pack names and allegiances.
As she peered at him closely, she noticed his eyes were sharper than a werewolf undergoing a dose of silver poisoning.
Unsettled, she grasped his arm, scrutinizing his wounds. They did smell like silver, and they were real, yet, the man’s body was not in the fevered state it should have been. This… this was not a werewolf. This was a human.
The side entrance to the shop suddenly opened and men piled inside, their rifles already aimed and ready. Hayden panicked, realization setting in horribly.
This had been a trap. A trap meant to lure werewolves into their domain.
Just as she was about to escape through the front door, men also arrived there, blocking her escape route with their sheer numbers alone. They too held rifles, and their cruel expressions told Hayden they would not hesitate to shoot and kill.
A cold chain suddenly wrapped around her neck from behind and the werewolf-turned-human brought her down to her knees. She could have fought against the human’s weak strength, yet she kept absolutely still. There were over a dozen men inside the small
shop and all of them had their weapons aimed at her.
“She’s young.”
“A pretty little thing,” one said with appreciation.
Hayden stared listlessly at the humans, her eyes vacant and her face carved from stone. Inside, though, shame and despondency flourished. She should have been smarter about her actions. Not as reckless. Isn’t that what Cole had always tried to preach?
She had just wanted to save an innocent.
“She doesn’t look like much of a threat.”
Snapping out of her despair, Hayden grabbed the chain around her neck, and by proxy, the human who held it with white-knuckles. She flipped the man over her head and onto the ground in front of her. Using the remainder of the chain, she wrapped it around his neck, holding him in front of her as a shield.
The humans shifted uneasily, unable to react with how quickly she’d moved.
“Let me go,” she ordered. “Or I’ll… kill him.”
One of them men chuckled heartlessly in response, no doubt reading her hesitation. Either that, or he just didn’t care about the man struggling in front of her. Desperation licked at Hayden as she considered her options. Would she have to kill all these people? Could she somehow escape unscathed without harming anyone?
Taking one look at their aimed weapons, Hayden knew they had killed before. They had her cornered like an animal. She would need to fight to survive.
“Kill her.”
Suddenly, the window Hayden kneeled in front of shattered loudly. At first, she thought it was one of the humans firing at her. However, one glance through the shower of glass made her stiffen in both relief and horror.
Nicolas was the personification of a vengeful savior as he flung himself through the window. Hayden would identify his grace anywhere as he twisted his body into a faultless flip. Before he landed on his feet, he already took down two men.
If the humans had been Hunters, they would have anticipated the possibility of a nearby male werewolf. Hunters intentionally ensnared female werewolves in order to lure out the more difficult predator, the male.
Only, unlike their Hunter counterpart, these humans were unprepared for Nicolas.
She kept a tight hold on the human in front of her, watching in hopelessness as Nicolas not only knocked the humans unconscious, but killed them without any sort of hesitancy. The blood spilt easily and the humans barely had a chance to decide whether they wanted to retreat, or to turn their weapons on the new target.
Shards of glass glittered Nicolas’ hair and clothes as he battled an inept army. As he flung a human to the ground, and engaged another, his eyes met Hayden’s unwaveringly, as if the mass of bodies standing between them were insignificant.
His face was absolutely livid, she noticed. It was rare seeing him express his emotions in battle. She couldn’t remember the last time or anytime he appeared so irate.
As the last human fell, he whirled on her, prowling towards her and the human she held captive. Without a word, Nicolas snatched the chain from her hands and twisted it sharply, causing the human’s neck to snap immediately.
Shakily, Hayden sat low on the ground, nearly cowering in the face of his rage. He stared down at her, his angry eyes shards of ice. At his sides, his crimson-stained hands clenched and even trembled with anger.
“How could you be so stupid?” He appeared taller than usual, more menacing than usual. “I have never—”
“She didn’t know.”
Hayden threw a look over her shoulder, spying Cole crouching on the broken windowsill. He assessed the scene unhappily, a tightness around his mouth, yet his eyes locked unflinchingly onto his brother’s face.
“Stay out of this,” Nicolas whispered icily. “You are just as foolhardy as she is. Both of you possess a ridiculous notion that you need to be saviors.” He released a short, bitter laugh. “This is exactly where it gets you. Don’t you know?”
He turned away and paced the shop, his strides slowly beginning to even out once he regained his composure. Gradually, as Hayden’s mind caught up to the situation, she began to sense what truly fueled Nicolas’ explosive anger.
He was concerned.
The cold, arrogant rogue was actually concerned.
Cole appeared behind Hayden and encouraged her to stand. It was difficult for her legs to stand steadily, yet she somehow managed. She welcomed Cole’s presence, appreciating his solid and familiar protection at her back. His hand landed on her shoulder, a heavy, yet comforting weight that spoke volumes.
“I didn’t know it was a trap,” Hayden spoke mostly to the prowling figure of Nicolas. “I thought it would be an easy, quick fix.”
Despite the dingy corner Nicolas dwelled in, his blue eyes fumed brightly. “At what part did you think it would be a smart plan? Perhaps it was the part where you snuck off at night and cloaked your intentions in secrecy?”
“You should have approached us,” Cole murmured to her. “You know we would have never condoned this, Hayden.”
Anger coursed through her. Despite Cole’s attempts at calmly reprimanding her, she only saw it as an attack on her pride. “That’s exactly it. You would have never attempted to help—”
“Help you what? Rescue a human posing as a poor, victimized werewolf?” Nicolas interrupted cruelly. “No, you are correct. We would have never fell for it, thus not condoning a rescue attempt.”
Hayden narrowed her eyes at his sarcasm and his biting words. Though both brothers were unaware of it, they were finally in mutual agreement. Unfortunately for her, it was at her expense.
Cole’s hand on her shoulder suddenly felt oppressive.
“I get it.” She shrugged Cole’s hand off and took a step away. “It was my fault I walked into a trap. I should have brought it up to you first.”
Cole pressed his lips together, observing her distance and her defeat. “We aren’t necessarily upset about your decision to rescue an innocent man, Hayden.” He ignored Nicolas’s sharp look. “We want you to be aware of the situation you’re in. Celeste is hunting you. Hunting us. It is unwise to travel by yourself, especially in unknown territory.”
He reached out a hand and ran his fingers down her cheek. “I was worried.”
Hayden’s frustration and humiliation faltered. In the face of Cole’s unstable condition, and his stark concern, she couldn’t hold on to much anger. She curled her hand around his wrist and squeezed repentantly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Precious,” Nicolas praised cynically.
It was not the man’s bitter comment that spurred Hayden’s attention, but the sound of a body hitting the floor. She turned, watching as the eldest Slayter removed two corpses from the high counter. As the bodies hit the ground, their motionless limbs jarred awkwardly and more blood leaked from their fatal wounds.
She tried hard to avoid the sight of all the men, of all the blood. It was difficult conjuring up much sympathy for them, but she felt guilty nonetheless. If it weren’t for Hayden’s mishap, they would have all been alive.
Alive to lure and kill more werewolves without restraint, she corrected.
Nicolas had his back turned to Hayden and Cole, appearing interested in the array of strewn papers. He shuffled through them and chuckled as he found something of interest.
His laugh was sinister and empty.
“Of course it makes sense.” He turned slowly and gazed at Hayden from over his shoulder. “You couldn’t have picked a better location to stumble into, my dear.”
She frowned, appraising the tasteless walls of linoleum paneling and the unappealing yellow floors. The shop didn’t really resemble anything other than an outdated office. What could Nicolas find so fascinating?
“Welcome to Logan Crow’s abode where he offered legal and financial consultation.” Nicolas gazed appreciatively at his surroundings. “It’s delightfully bland and ordinary, wouldn’t you agree?”
8. Chapter Eight
The terms bland and ordinary didn’t give the office nearly
as much credit as it deserved. Drop ceilings and florescent lights yellowed with age, and the standard white clock on the wall remained stuck at ten forty-three.
Upon hearing Nicolas’ proclamation, Cole intentionally knocked down the lamp, shattering and extinguishing the only source of light inside the shop. While the darkness would have been useful earlier, they were now cloaked from possible late-night observers.
Her night-vision did not dull the appearance of the old shop, if anything, it only amplified the small details. Somehow, seeing the carnage of bodies inside the painfully ordinary office created a demoralizing atmosphere.
“This is what we’ve been looking for,” Hayden stated dully, not bothering to form it as a question. Her eyes fell on the old coffee machine, noticing the thick layer of dust. “Somehow, I expected more from Celeste’s mate.”
“Patience,” Nicolas reprimanded calmly from across the office. “You need to learn patience, Hayden.”
She exhaled, defusing her irritation.
Trying to ignore the lifeless eyes staring up at her, Hayden stepped over the bodies and ventured nearer to Nicolas and Cole. Her boots left an obvious trail of crimson and she grimaced, her chest tight with regret.
The irony in the situation was morbidly amusing, really. She had intended to save just one person from the humans and their madness. Her guilt at not being able to save others had driven her to act reckless, while holding on to the notion that she could save at least one individual.
Instead, she’d slaughtered dozens. Not by her hand, but indirectly.
Her eyes fell on to Nicolas’ hands, noticing the dried blood between his fingers and underneath his fingernails. He hardly seemed put off by his deed. And even Cole, who was usually reserved with justice, had no harsh words for his brother.
“Logan was ingenious and he was restless,” Cole lectured as they escaped into the back room. “It is unlikely that he sat at the front desk and worked diligently for eight hours, seven days a week.”
As if sharing a private joke with his brother, Nicolas scoffed at the very idea.
The front of the shop was open with a few tables and chairs. It was likely where they conducted their consultation with their clients. In the back of the shop, however, the walls were packed with bookcases filled with ledgers and an assortment of books and papers.