Chapter 2 - Leaving New York

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I dreamed.

Twisting bloody images of the hunter, following, stalking, but his neck broken. Eyes dead. Still following. Gun, with a thousand darts, impossible to miss. The men downstairs, Antonio and Nick, their faces twisting into the faces of the hunter. Pav, caught, bleeding, or meekly walking back with the hunter. Saying she'd worked with him the whole time. My name repeated over and over and over. Not Anne. The name I'd rejected.

It made no sense, none of it, and I writhed, trying to escape, always running, always hurting, so damn hungry.

The smell of food woke me. Good food, pancakes, honey, some kind of meat, and the soft voices. I felt stiff, like all my limbs had stopped flexing properly, but it was the smell of food that overrode anything else.

Then it suddenly became strong. Something shifted under me, the ground giving way, a weight on the bed. Someone was sitting. The smell of food and the sound of a plate set down onto something beside me.

I twitched. Opened my eyes, blinking as light blinded them briefly, trying to get sight back. An unfamiliar room, a bed, and curtains partly open, letting daylight stream in.

"Morning." Antonio said softly eyes coming down to meet mine as I tried to sit, a hand pulling me up. "Want to come eat with us so we don't wake your friend?"

I glanced beside me. In the bed, large enough for three adults, lay Pav. She was asleep, pale face peaceful, hand clutching to the sheets as if she would drown without them, but she was safe. It was the first time I'd seen her sleeping so deeply since we'd escaped.

So I nodded and stood, with some assistance, realising that the reason I couldn't bend or flex like usual was because bandages were across my back, against the wounds, tape holding it securely in place. He picked up the plate and I followed him through a narrow hallway, into a kitchen, where the other man sat with a heap of food and a newspaper. His eyes snapped up to me, like he'd been waiting.

"Just eat it, Nick, she's got plenty." Antonio scolded. Set a plate down, waited for me to sit, and went to pour juice. "We'll talk after she eats "

I was starving. Hesitated. I wanted to wolf it down, consume it all, and then steal more food. My eyes flickering to the other food, then to the oven, where there was a pile of waiting leftovers. Clearly this was the house of werewolves used to the hunger. I eyed the fork and spoon, spotless.

"Just eat it as you need to. Don't worry about manners."

So I ate. Fingers, fork, using both, reassured when I saw Antonio and Nick display the same behaviour with their own food, not at all bothered or self concious about the way they ate. The food was replaced by more food, bacon, ham, sausages, pancakes, and we ate again, the three of us, not saying a word.

I leaned back. My stomach, for the first time in weeks, felt content. It had quietened down and I shuddered, relief flooding through some primal part of me. Food was safety. Energy.

"We treated your back last night and gave you something clean to wear. Hope you don't mind." Antonio said, and I glanced down, only then realising that I was in something different. "Jeremy has instructed us to treat your back three times a day, till you reach the house."

"The house?"

"Home." Nick answered. He glanced up, our eyes meeting, his face frozen. Unreadable. I wasn't sure what was going on with him, this other man, but he seemed to be uncomfortable somehow. "We're taking the two of you home today."

"Yes. We spoke with Jeremy, our Alpha, and told him what happened. What you are. Anne, how did you become a werewolf?"

It was such a sudden question but one that had been floating around since they'd met me, probably. I wanted to ask them the same question.

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