The Eleventh Hour (FINISHED)

64 - No!

Almost fifty minutes later, the door to the room creaked open, and Meadow sat up, hoping it was Ash again.

But this person had a red mask covering his hair and his face, and Meadow realized how Ash said it was easy to hide among the other assassins.

You never saw their faces.

She watched carefully as the figure stepped up to her cage, her not daring to say Ash's name in case this wasn't him, and when she noticed his eyes narrow at her...

She knew it wasn't.

The assassin slipped a tray of food under the opening of the crate, where the mat on the kennel floor was supposed to go and looked at her.

Despite her stomach grumbling, she turned her head to the side, showing she wasn't interested.

"Eat," the man urged. "Now. Elijah's orders."

Meadow glared at him. "They're your orders, not mine. I don't belong to him like you do."

His dark eyes somehow grew colder.

Footsteps receded from the door to this room, and Elijah's form came from the darkness, orange eyes glowing brighter when all the light in the room was gone, though two more assassins came from behind him. They were clearly guards of some sort; meant to protect him.

"Not eating?" Elijah inquired to the assassin who gave her food.

The man shook his head, leveling his eyes to the ground. "No, sir."

"Sir?" Gross.

Elijah's gaze met Meadow's. "Hmmm...." He knelt down in front of her kennel then, attempting to look calming but clearly wasn't succeeding. "You don't like the food, Meadow? It's your favorite, too; chocolate milk and cookies."

How did he know that...?

But she remained silent.

Elijah shook his head in disappointment and sighed. "Alright, if that's what you want." He gazed back at her as the two assassins came around the kennel from behind her. "It's time to move you anyway."

"What?" she said, spinning around as the three assassins came from each direction of her crate, Elijah at the door.

When she gazed back at the werewolf, he pulled a needle out of his pocket and another thing of some clear-ish liquid. After taking the safety cover off, he slid the needle into the cap of the medicine and pulled the liquid into the syringe.

Oh, God... That was for her, wasn't it?

Meadow backed away from him but couldn't get very far with the crate locking her inside, shaking her head as Elijah leveled his eyes to her.

"It's not lethal," he told her. "Just a calming agent, that's all."

"I don't want it," she stated.

"I don't really care if you 'don't want it,'" he answered with his eyes dimming in boredom. "You're going to run away if I don't give it to you, aren't you? I can't have that, Meadow. And I can see that you're willing to lie about not running away." He smiled. "Just a precaution."

He made his way toward her, and she scurried away, shaking her head. "No! I don't want it!"

Meadow had a particular thing with needles... They scared her in a way that no one could understand. Whenever she had to get shots when she was little, three doctors would have to come in and hold her down.

She knew she got this fear from her birthparents... They gave her all these lethal drugs, one of which was the opposite of nerve relievers. It hurt to even have anything gently on her skin; like the air was a breath of fire itself.