Streak of Black

We make our way to the living room where everyone is gathered. They look up at my entrance, and I look around at my Pack, proud to be their Alpha, as confused as to how that happened to be as I may be. "So is everyone clear on the plan?" I ask. I'm met with uncertain nods which is as good an answer as any.

“I’m glad that I’ll have you guys there with me tonight. No matter what happens, I wouldn’t ask to face this—any of this—with anyone other than you guys. Thank you for being there with me through everything. Now let’s go get that girl out of there!” I smile at the group. “Go change and we’ll head out.”

Those who had already changed into the darker clothes we had all made sure we had for tonight linger in the living room, but Ryder, a few others, and I scurry down the hall. I pull on a long-sleeved t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers—all black. I take the time to wrap my long, thick hair into as tight a bun as I can muster so that there’s no chance for any assailants to tug on it during a fight. The last thing I need is to be taken down because I left my hair loose like an idiot.

I sigh. It's now or never. I grab leather gloves that I bought a few days ago and meet my pack outside. "Alright, let's go."
* * * * *
My stomach is in knots as we make the long trek to Damien's manor. While it only took, at most, 45 minutes to get there by car the first time I came here, walking takes us just over 3 hours. That's fine with me, though. I need the extra time to think.

We are walking into what will probably be our deaths. It will be a miracle if we make it out alive. And while my pack will probably be in a lot of danger, I'll be the most vulnerable because I'll be hunting her down. Worst of all, if the mother and child are separated, I’ll be alone through the hunt.

I have no weapons. The only things I have are the leather gloves I clutch tightly in my right hand. These will enable me to open the doors to the mansion and take knives and guns out of the hands of my assailants. Although I'd feel better had everyone gotten gloves, no one really wanted them. I can kind of understand why—werewolves traditionally rely on strength, cunning and whatever power we have alone—but I still would have felt better if I knew that we all had some form of protection.

It seems like we're barely walking when we get to the first layer of guards. Eyulf and Nox separate from the group with a quick kiss pressed to Zeeva's and Rudi’s foreheads respectively. We all stand back a few layers as they gather the attention of the guards on patrol. I can distantly hear their voices taunting the guards as the draw as much attention as possible away from the rest of us. We hear the sound of fighting ensuing but can't allow ourselves to get too distracted. We have to focus on the task at hand.

Soon, the dirt road we're on meets cobblestones, and I feel on edge with every crackle under our sneakers. We'll be caught for sure. And if not, there'll be a trap inside.

No, there won’t be. I’m just paranoid and scared. They have no reason to suspect that we’re coming back. And why should they? Who would want to break back into this prison in their right minds?

We make our way up the long, winding driveway to the mansion, dark and looming as ever and more so in the darkness of the half-moon struggling to illuminate the sky from its hiding place behind the clouds. I gulp as Ryder, Nyx, Rudi, and Cannan enter the mansion in an upside down V formation with my brother in the lead. Zeeva and I remain outside. We wait one minute before following our friends inside. They stand in the entrance.

No one is there.

"Well this is a trap if I ever saw one," Zeeva whispers.

I ignore her and sniff the air—the girl is upstairs. 'The baby is in the basement. I'm going to get the girl. The baby is downstairs. I need you to get her.' Zeeva nods at me, and she and I separate from the Pack, going off in search of back stairways in place of the main ones in the entrance hall.

As we disappear through an archway, I hear Ryder trying to get the attention off of us. "Hey, werewolf hunters! We're back, and we're pissed.”

Rudi joins in. “Yeah! Why don't you come out and fight us like men rather than hiding behind shadows because, newsflash, wolves can see in the dark!"

I hear heavy but rapid footsteps in response to the cat calls. The men fell for it and are going after my mate and my friends. I just hope they'll be okay.

Zeeva and I open doors down long, sometimes curved hallways. We enter an empty kitchen and find stairs going up and down. "Be safe," I whisper to my friend. She smiles at me, but we separate quickly, and I keep myself going with the thought that my friends are in danger for the sake of my crazy plan. We have to be in and out. I refuse to fail them.

I begin making my way up the narrow, rounding stairs, all the while sniffing the air. Despite the emptiness of the corridor, I'm still paranoid. I reluctantly pull on the black gloves as I make my way up the never ending stairwell. Even though my all black clothing helps me blend in with the shadows from the neck down, if anyone were to encounter me, my pale skin, bright hair, and sparkling green eyes would stick out like a sore thumb. I force myself to keep going and ignore the anxiety tumbling around in my stomach and making me want to vomit.

And I finally smell her strong on the fifth floor—the same level that I was held hostage. I nearly stop to hyperventilate, but I don’t. It's all I can do to push the door open and enter the long corridor, momentarily stepping away from the mission despite the severity of the situation. But I can’t help my distraction—who could.

I'm emptied from the stair well into a hallway that branches off in several places, some branches leading to other hallways and the others leading up to doors. I turn down the first hall and am thrown into the past. I almost faint as I picture being carried down this hallway by Andre and dumped on the floor while the brute takes off my blindfold and unlocks the door. I slowly and warily walk down the hall to my door, open slightly ajar. I hear bullet shots in my head, remembering Andre creating the little holes in the wall. I gently push the door open and enter.

It's still the exact same: roughly carpeted floor and solid steel walls; a door made of oak with a handle and series of locks and latches made of steel; the one window with bars covering it on both sides and a latch and lock securing it on the wall directly across from the door, now shattered from being shot; a small porcelain toilet and sink in the corner; the thin, twin-sized, spring mattress with one un-plushy pillow and a paper-thin blanket on the floor opposite that; the tall wardrobe next to the toilet and sink that once contained only one light green sundress that compliments my eyes and is now tattered on the floor. The only difference is the blood that coats the walls and soaks the floor in dry puddles puddles with smear-marks as if someone was dragged out of here—the only remains of the men that I killed.

It's the dream that showed me this room before.

When Monique first showed me this room, she wasn't showing me what I was about to walk into—she was showing me what this place would look like after I left. I can't stand to stay any longer. I feel like I'm about to be sick, and I rush out, barely remembering to close the door gently as I do so. I gasp for air, air that doesn't seem to want to enter my lungs.

I swallow back my panic and memories and resolve myself to follow my nose and not my instincts for now. It leads me back out of the side hall and past a half-wall that allows me to glance down at the fight in the foyer bellow. No one on my side is injured—yet—and Eyulf and Nox are back as reinforcement, joining our other friends in the fight. Weapons lay strewn about the room, and I know that my brother's been busy. I let them continue, unnoticed, and keep walking down the hall. I'm led to a door. It's just a plain, rectangular door, similar to the one that I was locked behind. The only difference is that this one seems to have even more locks, some of which have codes. I realize that I only have one shot at this, and that there must be guards behind that door. There's no way I'd be able to open all of those locks, especially the ones with codes. I only have one option.

I step back and kick the door in, the metal locks and latches breaking here and there.

Thank you, werewolf strength.

An alarm goes off somewhere, and I know that I have to work fast. There are three men in the room alongside the girl, no older than 20 years old. I barely have time to look her over, noting the bruises on her arms in the shapes of fingers and the injuries all over her face from being struck by these bastards, before the guards recover from their shock and approach me. More footsteps sound down the hall. I snarl at the three men closing in, and my leg kicks out. I knock one over, and duck as another aims a long dagger at my throat, aiming to slit it.

Despite not being a wolf right now, I have naturally unnaturally sharp canine teeth. I clamp down on the man's wrist. As I latch on, I briefly consider if the dagger would actually kill me or if it would just leave a burn-like scar similar to the ones on my cheek and hand.

The goon screams in pain and drops his weapon. I kick it over to the girl. "Hold onto that!" I command, removing my mouth from his wrist and punching him in the face. It doesn't knock him out cold, but he falls to the floor in a daze, his head banging against the wall as a pool of blood begins to form around him.

I dislocated the guy's knee that I kicked, incapacitating him for the moment. Four more guys are on me, leaving me and the girl with five sure-footed guards, one guard moaning in pain on the floor, and one out cold. I back away from the crowd, careful to step on the guy’s bad knee as I do so and causing another wretched shriek to echo around the small room. I look around, trying to find a weapon. The guard moaning on the floor dropped a knife. I quickly grab it up and launch it at the nearest guard's chest. He's dead in seconds.

I roll over to where the girl sits in shock, snatching the dagger that she clutches so tightly her hand turned white—well, whiter. I do the same maneuver to another guard. Three more on their feet. I have no more weapons, and if I go for them, I'll be dead as quick as they were.

I think fast. Glancing around, I see that the only thing standing between me and the door are the three guards. While the fact that she was pregnant is still clear, malnourishment over the past few weeks has led to rapid weight loss, and she's very thin for a woman who just gave birth a month ago. Confident in my own physical strength, I take a deep breath, grab the girl, toss her onto my back piggy-back style, and charge out of the room. I expect to be flailed alive, but we somehow got through with the girl suffering from minor scratches, nothing really at this point for her.

I race down the hall with the guards on my heels and the girl on my back. I get to the doorway to the stairs with the three of them right behind me. I throw the door open and am met with silence. I tighten my grip on the girl's wrists—though not enough to leave marks, and run down the stairs. I'm so grateful that she hasn't tried fighting me yet—she’s probably in shock.

As I run, I explain in French what's going on. "I have friends fighting and keeping many of the guards in the entrance hall distracted. A friend of mine is grabbing Gabrielle."

"How do you know about us—my daughter and I?" she asks.

I fall silent—we never actually agreed on what to tell her. My extra speed and stamina, while slowed by the slightly extra weight the girl adds, still proves to be better than the guards. They’re still at least one story behind us. 'Did you get the baby?' I ask Zeeva while we run.

'Yeah, some guards followed us out a doorway leading outside. She's too weak to be fussy, the poor thing. We're hiding in the forest now. Did you get the girl?'

'Yeah. Pretty easy. Killed a couple guards, wounded a couple others. Now there's only three left on our trail. No big deal.'

'You are so crazy!'

'Just keep the baby safe. We'll be there soon.'

I focus my attention back on running. I see the light of the kitchen through an archway just ahead. We slide out of the stairwell and into the kitchen, the strong smell of onions and chicken tickling my nose. I ignore it and set the girl down, grabbing her wrist and leading her back to the entrance hall.

I catch my brother's eye as I place my hand on the door knob. He notices the girl, nods at me, and returns to the fight. The girl and I are hit with a huge gust of fresh air as the door opens, but we can't bask in it yet. I lead her down the cobblestone drive, the sound of urgent footsteps following us. We cut across the lawn and into the forest surrounding the manor. Once we get a good distance in, I begin following my nose to Zeeva, leading the poor girl along with me, practically dragging her. We find them after a few minutes, and the girl's face glows as she sees her baby once again. She leaves me, finding the last bit of strength to run to Zeeva and snatch her daughter up, cuddling the small baby with a relieved grin on her face.

'Are you guys out yet?' I ask the rest of the Pack.

'We're leading them away from you guys. We'll meet you in five minutes. No one is hurt other than a few punches and minor scratches,' Lovett reports.

I practically sag in relief and gaze at Zeeva. She looks as relived as I feel. The others aren't out of the fire yet, but if they've avoided injuries thus far, they'll make it back to us. I look down at the girl, sitting on the floor against a tree and cuddling her daughter. As if she feels my gaze, she looks up at me, terror written all over her face. It obviously isn't lost on her that we're werewolves—who else would be strong enough to carry her as far and as easily as I did, and who else would need gloves to take care of these guards’ weapons?

I kneel down slowly in front of her, and she cringes, holding Gabrielle closer to her chest. "What's your name?" I ask her calmly, switching back to English for Zeeva's sake.

"Charlette."

"My name is Louve and this is Zeeva. As soon as our Pack gets here, we'll take you home and then take you somewhere safer as soon as we can." She nods at me, still paranoid. "Is there any way to prove to you that we aren't going to hurt you?" She thinks for a second and shakes her head.

Zeeva kneels beside her, still staying far enough not to scare her. “We promise not to hurt you or your baby. Believe me when I say that we want to help you as much as we want those men to suffer. And if you know about any of what happened last month, you know that that desire is great.”

“I hope you’ll eventually come to trust us,” I say gently.

“Perhaps, but not tonight.”

I sigh. “I suppose we can’t hope for anything more.” I decide to just listen for the others and can soon hear them approaching at a sprint—their footsteps are no more than 100 meters away. "Charlette, it's time to go."

"Huh?" she asks.

The others break through the bushes, slightly winded from so much running. "We have to go—now!" Lovett says. I can hear the guards. They aren't close, but their close enough to be wary.

"Can you run?" I ask the young mother.

"Not fast." She looks around at all of us, paranoid. "Why?"

"Because it's the only way to get away from here somewhat safely. Would it be alright if one of our guys carried you?"

She bites her lip, at war with herself. I kind of understand, but right now we really need her to just let us take her. Finally, she closes her eyes and anxiously nods. Lovett steps forward and picks her and Gabrielle up. Once she's safe in his arms, we take off running, desperate to get back to the house and get what we need. But before we can get too far, Rudi stops us.

"Wait, I know how to hot-wire cars." We all stop and turn to look at her, thinking how random that is. She rolls her eyes impatiently. "My dad was a mechanic. Look, is Lovett is really going to carry her all the way to the house and then all the way to town? I doubt it. If we can get back to their house, I can get us a car."

"Hey, auto-theft is one of my priors!" Ryder recalls nostalgically.

Ignoring him, I shrug. "Let's go—quickly!"