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Chapter 1 posted

Kayla POV

I was standing by the front door of this old run-down house that looks like it could fall apart any second. The walls had chipped paint, and it seemed like they could crumble at any moment. Even the door to the kitchen appeared like it could fall off its hinges at any given time. The couches looked like they had been here since ancient times, dusty and unpleasant. The floors were so old that I could hear Uncle Spike and Grandpa Hawk upstairs walking. I was supposed to watch for anyone who tried to run out the door, but no one ever tries. Dad just wants me out of danger, that's all. The front door led right into the living room so this time, I could watch what was going on. Other times, I'm standing out on the porch. There was only one time when I had to tackle a woman down, and I ended up breaking her neck because she was trying to stab me with a silver knife. Dad got mad because I wasn't supposed to do that. He was going to take her back to the torture room to get answers, but that never happened. He didn't stay mad when I told him that she was trying to stab me with the silver knife. Now, I'm standing here looking at a woman who looks like she hasn't showered in two weeks. Her hair looked dirty and matted. Her clothes didn't look clean either; she was wearing torn-up jeans and a shirt that looks like if you just blew on it, the thing would rip apart. She had her arms folded over her chest, like she was cold and trying to keep warm, but it wasn't cold in here at all; it was stuffy. She had a mean look on her face—or she was trying to look mean. Still, we don't scare easily at all. The house looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years, spiderwebs on the ceiling, even the photos on the wall had dust on them—they were leaning on their sides; half of them looked like all you had to do was tap the wall, and they would fall to the floor. The floor had trash everywhere—soda cans, plastic cups. On an old coffee table, there were dirty dishes that looked like they had been there for a few days. I was trying not to gag when my thoughts got interrupted by the lady talking.

“You nasty fucking wolves better not be breaking anything or messing up my house?” I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. I didn't want to get into trouble with my dad.

“Nasty, Smelling? Are you fucking kidding me, Karen? You look like you haven’t showered in weeks, and look at your house. When is the last time you cleaned this thing? I want to know where my money is right now,” That was my dad. You should know him. His name is Isiah. He’s the son of the mafia King Mercury and Cheyenne Black, my grandparents. My grandfather passed the title to my father many years ago, and he’s been doing this ever since. When I got old enough, he told me I could start going with him. I needed to learn what he did and how to do things. I already knew what he did. We were the werewolf mafia. Of course, people got hurt. Karen, the woman that owes dad, had a mad look on her face. I only just rolled my eyes. The woman couldn't hold a mad look on her face at all. Then we heard a crash upstairs like glass breaking and things flipping over or thrown to the side. That must be Uncle Spike and Grandpa Hawk. Grandpa Hawk is Cheyenne's dad. Spike really isn't my uncle. He's been around longer than my dad has. But I call him uncle because I really think he's cool.

“WHAT THE H×LL ARE YOU DOING UP THERE? YOU'RE DESTROYING MY HOME!” The woman screamed out, but she shut up really fast when Spike and Grandpa came downstairs with several bags in their hands. They dropped them on the ground, then made their way to the kitchen to make sure that was all of it. Glass was breaking, and I could hear something being tossed to the side. Sure enough, two more bags were dropped on the floor. “Damn you, this is my fucking money. You can’t take it away from me. I had one more year, Isiah,” he looked at her like she was off her rocker. He could tell that she was on something. She looked bug-eyed, she was twitching like she was wanting or needing something. Her face looked bony, even her arms and legs looked skinny with some kind of weird marks on her arms. “Karen, what the hell are you on, woman? You borrowed money from me five years ago. Your time was up three years ago, dumbass. And you think for one second I'm going to leave this money with you? You are completely out of your mind!” She rolled her eyes, stomping her feet on the ground like a child.

“This is my money. If you do not leave my house right now, I’ll kill every last one of you!” What did she just say? Did she just threaten my father? Hell no. Pulling out my gun, I pointed it at her head, pulled the trigger. We heard a loud boom. She fell back dead; there was a hole in her head now. With a lot of blood on the wall, my father looked back at me, pissed off. “Taylor Black! What the hell did I tell you last time? I told you not to kill them until I give the go-ahead. Look what you did now!”

I knew I was in trouble, but he would be calmed down by the time we got home. We poured gas around the house, then set it on fire. We got into the car and sped off.

“Kayla, next time I tell you not to kill someone, you won’t be coming with me anymore. You have to listen to me, or one of us might get hurt. You know your mother; she would flip out when she finds out about this. You better put that gun back safely, and do not bring it out again. I was twenty, my birthday is in another month. That's when I will get my wolf and shift for the first time. Maybe I will find my mate too, but who knows; he might be in another pack. I don't really care right now because I'm not twenty yet, so I'm not even thinking about it. The problem is not having my wolf yet. Mom and Dad get worried about me going with him because I might get hurt. Well, I haven't yet. Other people have gotten hurt by me, not the other way around. Dad gets mad about that. He worries a lot because Grandma trains me with the rest of the group. Every morning, I get up at five am with the rest of them, then train until 12 in the afternoon. Grandma started training me when I turned 13, so I learned a lot from her. She's a badass, and I hope to be just like her and even more if possible. When we got home, we got out of the car, then went into the house. He turned to me, saying, “Kayla, go to your room. I'll be up there shortly so we can talk.”

“Dad, I'm nineteen.”

“I DON’T GIVE A DAMN IF YOU’RE TWENTY ONE! WHEN I SAY GO TO YOUR ROOM, THAT'S WHAT I MEAN! NOW GO!” Damn, he was actually mad at me. I knew to listen once he yelled like that. I ran up to my room, slamming the door shut. I put my gun in the lockbox, locking it so no one could get into it. After taking a shower and drying off, I put on sweats and a baggy shirt. I sat on the bed and grabbed my book off the nightstand. It's a book I've been reading for several months now. I really didn’t feel like reading - I just wanted to pretend I was. When dad came up to talk to me, I don’t know why I was so nervous. I don’t want to be made to sit at home while dad went on collections. Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I spoke out. "Here we go, I'm going to be made to stay home. This is going to suck big time." But he knows best, I guess. That doesn't mean I have to like this at all.