ELENA’s POV
Father is carried piggyback style by another neighbour.
I gasp at the sight of my old man. His bruised hand hangs limp by his side as he is laid on our straw bed. He moans in pain. Little Dylan starts to whimper and I have to shield him from seeing father. Mother kneels by the side of the bed, softly calling out to father. As she calls him, she wipes the flood of tears that come streaming down her face.
“Luke,” she whispers, choking back sobs. I want to cry too.
Father’s face is bruised, his eyes swollen shut and there are bloody welts across his back. He had been whipped. Freya steps out of the bathroom and stifles a cry.
“Hurry! Get cloth and water!” I manage to croak out before pushing Dylan into the arms of Michael’s wife. She has come to help. Swiftly, she carries a bawling Dylan out of the room.
I seethe with anger. Beasts. The Blood Stone wolves are beasts. How could they do this to father?!
Freya comes back in with a wooden round basin and a clean cloth.
I quickly help mother to strip off father’s bloodied clothes. His other hand is badly wounded. The bones of his fractured left arm protrude through his skin in a ghastly manner. Even a fool can tell that his hand and arm will never be the same again.
“Luke,” mother calls out gently once more.
Hearing mother’s voice, he stirs. His eyes are glazed but suddenly he writhes all over like a frothing animal with rabies fighting off an invisible enemy. He tries to sit up but is too weak.
“Father…” I call out. My heart breaks at the sight of him. It feels as if a thousand needles have pierced my heart.
He finally awakes and shivers. There is fear in his eyes.
“Run, they’re coming. You have to leave.” he gasps and wheezes.
Mother gently soothes him as I wipe off the blood from his body. There is pus forming around his wound. This is not good; he is not healing and we don’t have any medication.
“It’s alright Luke. You’re home. You’re fine. We’re all here.”
Father keeps shaking his head, a tremor runs through his body as I apply water to clean his wound, “No..you don’t understand…you have to leave now.”
Then he falls into unconsciousness once more.
We nurse throughout the night. Mother and I take turns while Freya tries to soothe a weeping Dylan to sleep. I can hear him even now, calling out for mother and father. Freya is singing him a lullaby in the room next door.
A rumour begins to spread among the villagers like wildfire. Everyone is saying the same thing, the Blood Stone pack is coming. They have run out of land and are eyeing our little village on top of the hill. Father had tried to reason with them.
“There’s nothing but potatoes and trees up there. You’ll only be wasting your time and resources,” father had told them. I guess the pack did not like what they heard for father ended up half-dead after that.
***
It is the third day since father came back and I awake in the corner of the room to moans of pain. I look at the round little clock which hangs at the wooden wall.
Damn! I had overslept. It’s been two hours since I last checked on father. Mother is nowhere to be seen but I can smell soup brewing in the kitchen. Quickly I head over to where father lays and touch his forehead. It is hot. He is running a fever.
Gently I open the bandage around his wounds. What kind of torture weapon did they use on him? The broken skin is badly infected and swollen.
Father needs a doctor.
“Father, can you hear me?” I squeeze his hand gently but he doesn’t reply. He only mumbles incoherently. This is no good. I quickly run out to get mother. We must find help.
FREYA’s POV
I could not sleep last night nor the night before. Every time I close my eyes, I hear father’s screams of pain and whimpers of fear. It is driving me crazy.
This morning, it is no different. I step out of my room only to see Elena run out of father’s room. In her mad dash to the kitchen, she does not see me so I quietly slip into our parents’ room where father lays.
He is moaning still. I fear he will not get better. He has not been drinking the broth mother has been making for him.
“Elena?” father calls out weakly.
“It’s Freya,” I walk over to him and pat his head. His eyes can no longer see. The Blood Stone pack had been brutal with him.
“Freya…” he whispers hoarsely. There is a smell on him, it comes from his wound. It smells as if he is rotting. He lifts a trembling hand, trying to touch my face but for some reason, I recoil from his touch.
I blink at my reaction. This is father, surely, I am not repulsed by him?
I catch his hand and lay it at his side, letting go of his hand a little too fast, “Hush father, you need to rest.”
He shakes his head with great difficulty, he knows he will not get better. Not without medical help. And we have none. Who would dare help us? It’s obvious father had gotten on the bad side of the Blood Stone pack.
It took Michael and another neighbour one whole day just to bring him back. Add the other three days that he’s been lying sick in bed. That totals up to four days. And his condition has only worsened. At this rate, he will not make it. It is probably better for him to die.
Yes, maybe he should just go away in peace. That might be better for him. And us.
ELENA’s POV It is decided. I am to venture downhill in search of a doctor. Or a pharmacist. Or anyone who can sell us some fucking medicine. Father’s wounds are badly infected and he needs help. Mother has warned me to be careful. We have not told anyone from our village, lest they try to stop us. But how would they know the pain and rage that torments us at this moment? How do they know the agony that father has to bear every second? How would they know? How can they know? They are not the ones who were brutally tortured and had their bones broken, nor are they the ones who were whipped until their skin tore with poisoned claws. They would never understand. I have to go, there is no other way. It is the witching hour now and father’s fever is getting worse. “I love you,” mother whispers as she hugs me tightly in the tiny bedroom that Freya and I share. She does not want to let go and I have to pry her fingers away. I am scared shitless, but I put on my bravest smile and tie up my
HUNTER’s POV I sit in the darkened office of Tim’s Pharmacy and stare into the eyes of the man who killed my father. There is fear in his dull brown eyes. But it is a fear that has come too late. He rubs his palms together, begging for mercy on his knees as Liam, my Beta hangs him by his shoulder blades. I trust Liam with my life, he has stuck by my side ever since we were children. We’re pretty much blood brothers though we look nothing alike. Liam wears his light brown hair sleeked back and tied up in a little ponytail and has the build of a Greek god. Even as he extends a claw at Tim, Liam towers over the trembling man. “Please, I have a wife and a kid,” Tim begs with a quivering voice. I lean forward from the worn-out plastic stool that I sit on and stroke the man’s pudgy cheeks with my own claws. We of the Storm Riders pack have a special ability; we can shift parts of our body at will without going into full werewolf mode
FREYA’s POVIt’s been less than two hours since Elena’s been gone, but to me, it feels like an eternity has passed. I wonder if she will be able to find any medication for father, but more importantly, I have to wonder if the medication will work at all given the condition that he is in right now.I look at Dylan who is sleeping soundly next to me on my bed. He has kicked off his blanket in his sleep and is drooling all over our pink worn-out mattress. I love my little brother, but I hate his drools. They stink. He’ll probably stink even more when he finds his wolf one day.In the next room, it sounds like father has woken from his sleep and is talking to mother, but I cannot be sure. All I can hear are incoherent sounds coming through the paper-thin wall between our rooms.I stand up from the torn and tattered bed and walk towards the only window in my bedroom, wishing for some fresh air. The room is too stu
ELENA’s POVWhen I was young, probably around three to four, father would perch me on his broad shoulders and run around our little wooden house as I flapped my hands in the air. I’d imagine myself a bird, soaring free and high in the sky.I remember how happy I had been then. My lips would curl up so high they would reach the corners of my eyes. Such was the joy of our simple game. I’d always ask for ‘just one more time’ and though father was weary from work, he never failed to indulge in me. Father worked hard for all of us, and now the time has come for me to take the burden from him.“You?” One of the man from Blood Stone pack laughs. He is probably the leader. An eyebrow arches high as he looks me up and down, not sure what to make of my offer. I guess volunteering is not a common thing.“Yes, take me. Leave my sister alone,” I say with resolute, trying to hide the fear in my voice. From
HUNTER’s POV I stand atop the balcony of my late father’s packhouse overlooking our land. There is a gentle breeze that plays with my hair as I look at the world that lays before me. I lift a hand with an outstretched arm and curl my fingers in, seemingly swallowing the land whole. It is only a matter of time before I claim back what rightfully belongs to the Storm Riders pack. My pack. My father, the late Alpha was one of the most powerful leaders of his time. He was ruthless and his name evoked fear throughout the land. If he asked you to down a bucket of shit, you would do it with a smile, otherwise, not only would you lose your head, your parents and children would lose theirs too and everyone else who is even remotely linked to your name would end up facing the guillotine. But my father never crossed a man, or in our case, a wolf that didn’t deserve it. He played by the rules of the werewolf world. And because
ELENA’s POV I don’t think this is the Alpha’s room. It certainly doesn’t look like one. I had always imagined an Alpha’s room to be adorned with riches and opulence but this one is more like a holding cell of some sort. There is a lone window that has been heavily barred with timber planks leaving just enough space for you to peer out and catch a glimpse of the starry night, but not enough for you to stick a hand out to signal for help. Help. That is something I desperately need right now, but who would come? Who would step into this hellhole and free us all? No one. There will be no help. There is only one piece of furniture in this cold and unforgiving room. The four-poster bed, but it gives me no solace for I know the crimes that have been committed on these beautiful white linen. I can hear the ghostly echoes of the omegas who came here before me as their hopes and dreams were stripped away from them and thrown into an eternal abyss of da
HUNTER’s POVThe Blood Stone pack had always been a notorious one, but of late, with the Alpha King of the North dead, they have become even worse. In a desperate bid to claim the now vacant throne, Clyde has taken countless lives, many of those who were once near and dear to him. My father’s life included. That Alpha is crazy, left unchecked, he will lay waste to all the land.And I for sure will not stand by and let him unleash carnage over what does not belong to him. Father’s death at Clyde’s hand was a wake-up call to me. It is time to put an end to this chaos, once and for all.We leave our land and move under the cover of the night and a cool gust of wind caresses my skin as we finally reach our destination. Clyde’s packhouse looms over us as we crouch hidden in the tall grass. The place is dark, save for a few torched flames that Clyde’s men carry as they patrol the premises.Helios, who i
HUNTER’s POVQuietly I make my way down the long, dark and smokey hallway of the topmost floor. I know Clyde is nearby, I can smell the stench of his wolf even through the smoke. The guy needs a bath. And maybe a full-body scrub too.There are other scents too…Clyde is not alone. I draw my gun, time for a little game of cat and mouse.Two dark figures run across the hallway and I smile. I chase after the men who lurk in the shadows and realize that one of them is trying to corner me.Swiftly, my left foot lashes out and I catch one of the men in the centre of the breastbone. I hear his bones crack as he topples backwards onto the floor. He wheezes and gasps for air as blood drips from his mouth, he may be hurt but it is only a matter of time before his healing factor kicks in. I kneel beside him and gently pat on his head, ready to crack his head when amidst the smoke, another scent catches my attention.The scen