Wolf #1: The Pack [COMPLETED]

Chapter 2

"Thank you," A man jumps from his boat and onto the dock, clearing the six foot gap of water between the two. I stare at him with wide eyes but he doesn't pay me much attention, "Mac! Toss me the ropes."

The second man passes us the ropes and we get right to it. The wind is only getting stronger, and I look up cautiously. Their sails are still up and flapping wildly. All the boats around us begin to creak as the force of the waves pick up, spraying us with saltwater.

I finish my end and clamber onto the sailboat, "Your sails need to come down!"

"What did she say?" There's a woman at the wheel, looking at the man named Mac. She looks at me and calls out, "What?"

I point up towards them. She nods and glances over at Mac. ""Your sails!—"

"Amelia! Those sails!" My dad shouts, his eyes just as wide as mine as we watch them.

I hastily pull them in and down, grunting as I fight the tug of the wind. As I finish securing them, Mac joins me and we begin to check that everything on the boat is tied down. I begin to head below but he beats me to it.

"Help my girl out, would you?" He shuts the door. I hear the faint click of the lock over the gust of the wind.

Up in the wheelhouse, the girl has finished anchoring and is now grabbing all their valuables. She's small and twiggy, drowning in the plaid jacket she's wearing. She looks up at me through her brown bangs and smiles.

"I'm Kiana," She passes me bags of maps and other loose objects, "Sorry if we threw ourselves on you guys. You all looked to be more prepared than us. We usually dock a little further down the coast, but the storm came in faster than we expected."

"The storm came at the last minute for everyone," I try to sound nice, because it's partially true. We had only found out yesterday about the storm and had gotten all the sailors to clear out their boats earlier. "I'm Amelia."

After we move everything onto the docks, I bring them back to the boathouse to register their boat in our books. My dad's just finished up with his side of the docks. He looks like a wet rag.

"I fell in," He mutters, tossing his phone into the bin, "Old Man T's decks are slick as fucking seaweed."

"You fell in..." I shudder at the thought. The water is very deep and dark here, so much so that we can't see the bottom. In reality, it's probably no deeper than twenty or thirty feet, but that's deep enough to give me the willies. "Are you—"

"I'm good."

But what if he hadn't been? Storms makes the water unpredictable. You can get lost...dragged under into the depths or farther out to sea before you can do anything to stop it...

"A harbormaster's daughter who's afraid of water," The man who had leapt from the boat chuckles at me, "That's peculiar."

"He's not a harbormaster."

"But you are his daughter?" He says with a crooked grin. I slide the log to him as my dad walks into the back office, "No need to answer—you're a spitting image of him."

I tap the book with my finger, "Less talking, more writing. I don't want to drown in my boathouse."

He gives me a wink as he leans down and fills out the row on the spreadsheet. I watch him quietly, taking a seat and spinning it back and forth. He's the tallest of the group, about an inch or two taller than his friend, Mac, and a foot taller than Kiana. Even as he hunches over the low counter, he's a hulking mass of muscle. His shoulders are the length of my arm, and his wrists are like the branches of an oak tree.