Chapter 5

<<Mora>>

I can feel my wolf straining through the wolfsaben as sweat breaks out over my entire body, my bare knees are scraping against something hard and the scent of my blood finally triggers my wolf. I let the fear of my wolf fill me; I let her get angry because angry wolves tend to act recklessly, and right now I need her to be reckless enough to forget about the wolfsbane. 

“It's Franklin, you arsehole.” The nasally male extends the end of his name like it makes any change in how the enforcer sees him; I snort a laugh just as one of my fingers shifts into a claw. I can’t see it thanks to how I’ve been tied up but I know my nail has changed into my wolf claw because I can feel the string of the wolfsbane-soaked rope against the single digit. Gritting my teeth, I try to balance myself on my stomach so I can slowly tear through the rope binding my wrists, once I cut one rope, the entire system falls apart and I’ll be free. I’m not foolish enough to think I can run, escape and survive in a destroyed world but I’ll be damned if that nasally male is opening the van to find me tied up and at his mercy. 

“Sure, whatever. Makes all the difference, right, Frankie?” The tattooed enforcer sounds like an absolute dick; he’s taunting Franklin because he probably knows the male would rather run screaming to an Alpha than actually throw a punch. 

“What a joke, first we get this female dud dumped on us and now you fuckers are here to stay and observe. What the hell does that mean anyway? Observe what?” Franklin hisses. I can hear boots grinding into the gravel again, which means my time is up. I strain myself even more as I rapidly flick my single claw over the rope. It feels like the flesh of my finger is being burnt off by a tiny lit match but I force myself to keep going. I’m shaking and feel a little sick by the time the rope gives and my legs fall flat to the floor of the van. I don’t have time to rest, though. I force myself onto my back and rip the wet rope from my body. I toss it under a built-in seat that was behind me and push myself to my ass. 

Facing the door, I pull my injured knees up to my chest and rest my forehead on them so my face is completely obscured. I place my injured hand under my uninjured one and do my best to pull in deep, one deep breath after another. I’m going to stink of fear no matter what I do but I refuse to look like I’m actually scared. 

“Stand back; she’s a little viper.” The tattooed enforcer growls. I look up just intime to see the two doors at the back of the van being opened slowly. I see his dark eyes first; he’s barely opened the doors a half an inch, and he’s looking inside, once his eyes land on me sitting in the middle of the space instead of being hog-tied like a prisoner, the left side of his lips twitch, the half smirk is gone in the blink of an eye and the doors are thrown open. Light hits my face, causing me to blink rapidly. Shifters have excellent sight but we still need time to adjust when going from pitch black to blinding lights. My first instinct is to push past the three males but I force myself to stay right where I am. I have no idea what the landscape outside of this van is like and there might be more enforcers waiting with more wolfsbane. I sniff heavily; the first thing I pick up on is the ink and body odour coming off the male wearing a white shirt and an actual pocket protector. I know he’s Franklin without even hearing him speak; the name just fits the male with slicked-back auburn hair and thick-rimmed glasses. He’s skinny for an enforcer, which is probably why he smells like an office worker; he’s got no muscle and is probably relegated to keeping order via paperwork and rules because he can’t actually enforce shit. 

“I have to piss.” I tilt my head to the side and glare at Franklin; the tattooed enforcer covers his mouth with his fist and forces out a cough to cover his laugh. 

“Lovely.” Franklin sniffs before reaching in to grab me; I keep my bitchy attitude firmly in place as I flinch back from his touch. The male next to the tattooed enforcer chuckles openly as I force myself to my feet and climb from the van on my own strength. My knees shake and my hand still hurts from the rope but I force myself to ignore the pain. I can lick my wounds once I’m alone; I’m at the War Academy now. I can’t show a single sign of weakness or I will just become the plaything to every male inside. 

I’m struck dumb when I finally get outside of the van. I expected a training ground, maybe a huge building or even a field of training enforcers but that's not what I’m looking at. The building looks more like a massive castle; the grounds are lush with green grass and trees that seem to have grown out of nowhere. It's even more surprising considering I can smell the burning human city somewhere nearby. After the war, the cities always smell like they’re on fire despite having been put out long before I was born. My father used to tell us that everything outside of the Pack was a desolate wasteland but this War Academy looks like someone has taken pride in it; it reminds me of old paintings of human schools that I’ve seen in books. I can smell the males though, hundreds of sweaty and unwashed male bodies. Their blood is soaked into the ground and their scents cling to every blade of grass and tree trunk, it's dark so I can only assume the lack of reception is because every student is sleeping or resting for the night. I quickly smooth my fiery red hair down my shoulders and adjust my skimpy tank top while I take a second to let my eye adjust to the massive building. The windows look huge and some of them are stained different colours; the huge wooden doors are open, allowing the light to flow out. What I thought was floodlights is actually a massive chandelier in the entryway.