Red Moon Rising

22. caught

Chapter Song: In Hell I'll Be In Good Company - The Death South

Author's note: Please you guys watch this fucking music video after you've read the chapter. So good. 

XX

Wolves.

I turn to find a whole row of eyes staring at me, every single one of them without a doubt belonging to a wolf. Where the fuck did they come from anyway? There isn't any pack territory this far west in the state, and I highly doubt they're just living in town among the humans. But then, they're drinking at this bar together and no one seems to pay them any mind. In fact, the bartender—very much a human—seems friendly with them.

I stare solemnly at the counter until my food arrives. If I wasn't this hungry, I would just leave. I smell like blood, I'm sure of it, and not just my own. And if they've established some kind of pseudo territory out here then I'm sure I'm trespassing on it. But dammit I'm so hungry and weak, and each bite of burger helps me forget that I can't even use my right hand to eat it. When two of the wolves stand, their eyes fixed on me, I stuff three more fries in my mouth and wipe my hands on a greasy napkin. I'm reaching for my backpack when a hand settles onto my shoulder.

"There's no rush." I have no doubt that those motorcycles out front belong to these men beside me, all leather jackets and beat-up denim. And they are all men, not a single woman among them. The man whose hand is on me is trying to look me in the eye, but I can't meet his gaze. There's a feeling radiating from him, like his hand could crush my shoulder if I piss him off. He's more an alpha than I've ever felt on someone before, and the way he's glaring so intently at me now makes me weak.

"I should go. I'm sorry, I didn't know I was intruding." When I try to stand, the hand pushes me hard back into my seat, and I'm thankful at least that he's touching my left shoulder.

"What's this?" His voice is heavy and low, even when he's asking a question, and he runs the collar of my shirt between his fingers. "Running around with someone else's blood on your clothes?"

"They're not mine."

"I'm sure that's true."

"I don't want any trouble..."

"You look like you've already found it."

Two others have stood now, and a couple sets of eyes turn our way from human patrons at tables around the bar. I don't think too hard about it when I grab my backpack and bolt for the door, feeling a rush of air behind me as he tries to grab for my shirt. The bartender yells after me, but I'm already out the door, sprinting through the parking lot as my arm is jostled painfully. I could outrun them on a good day, I'm sure I could. But in my current state I don't even reach the street before a hand closes around my arm, my right arm, and wrenches me to a stop. I cry out and swing around to clutch at his wrist, and when he sees my face he lets go of me to grab my collar instead.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He gives me a little shake, and I glance around the parking lot for another escape. "Hey, look at me. What's wrong with your arm?"

"None of your business."

"I think it's definitely my business. I think you're showing up suspiciously soon after someone attacked two hunters on my territory."

"I'm just passing through. Please just let me go."

"Look at me." And I do, because I understand the threat lacing his tone. And I understand that there is nothing I can do to defend myself now. I think of the pistol in my backpack, but I know that wouldn't do any good. There are too many wolves surrounding me. And besides, I don't want to kill anyone, especially not one of my own. "What's your name?"