Slaves of the Night

Chapter 12 - Caged In

Chapter 12: Caged In

Alex’s Point of View

  It took a few hours to know what had happened. While Tristan was only on the floor in pain for a matter of minutes, the moment he snapped out of it, his humanity vanished. He was up from the ground in the flash and ran from the room back into the rain.

  He wasn’t himself, so he let his wolf take over and the house was left in silence in his wake. Once everybody recovered from the shock of it, Rayne and Wes were the first two to step towards the door. But I cut in front of them, blocking the exit.

  It was definitely intimidating to be glared down upon by two six foot two men that had rage pooling into their eyes, but they would only make fools of themselves if they went after Tristan.

  “Let him be. It’s obvious something bad has happened and he needs to deal with it before he can come back,” I ordered softly, not wavering when my Alpha growled at me.

  “I don’t care if he has to find a cure for world peace, he needs someone to reign him in before he completely loses it,” Rayne snarled, not one ounce of compassion left in him. This day had been taxing on everyone, but probably most on our leader. He felt guilty about all of this happening under his watch and needed to make it right. But now was not the time or the place.

  “He needs to work it out himself. You will only make it worse.”

  Mrs. Everdeen started crying in the background, her soft sobs heard in the silence as my gaze crackled between Tristan’s brother and best friend. Seconds passed in the tension before Rayne’s eyes softened at the distress of his mother and he backed down. “Fine, but if he isn’t back in a few hours, we’re going to find him and drag the answers out.”

  I nodded, it was a perfectly acceptable request; the last thing we needed was two missing members of the pack. Rayne walked away to envelope his mother in a hug and softly directed her away from everybody, his soft words only audible to her. But Wes still stood in front of me, glaring down at my much smaller frame.

  I should have been scared of him; should’ve had my bones turn to jello as I withered under his gaze--but instead I held my ground. Over a short period of time I had relayed a amount of trust in him, and I hoped he could do the same and trust me when I said that Tristan needed time.

  “Are you sure he is alright?” Wes asked, his voice low, but more vulnerable than I had expected. He was sincerely worried about his friend, a trait that couldn’t be faked and proved that he had a heart to feel with. My arms itched to wrap around his waist and hold on tight, absorbing his musky scent until I couldn’t think coherently. But I just nodded and reached for his hand instead.

  “Something bad has happened, but I’m sure he’ll return fine,” I whispered, cherishing the feeling as Wes’s larger hand completely enclosed mine. With a light squeeze, I released him and bid him to come back to the kitchen.

  There was still a lot to go over.

  A couple hours later, like I had predicted, Tristan came back in the front door. He was soaked to the bone and his face void of any color, but he still managed to stumble into the kitchen. Somehow since Mrs. Everdeen had had her mental breakdown I had taken over the caretaker’s role and was instantly there for Tristan to place a towel around his shoulders.

  He didn’t make a sound as I tussled his hair dry with another towel, or even when I said that he should really change. His only response to anything was to stare blankly at the table, whatever thoughts going through his head lost in a wave of grief. My heart sunk in my chest as I came to the conclusion that Sam was probably dead; it was the only ending that fit into this awful equation. If she wasn’t then Tristan would be able to sense her presence and there would still be a fire in his eyes to rescue her, but instead he sat rigidly like a statue, waiting for the world to change.