Mine {h.s.}

Chapter Twenty Three.

"Rogues? What do you mean rogues?" I ask, severely confused and worried. I knew that something was wrong, but I didn't quite know the gravity of the situation. It was frustrating knowing that something was wrong but that I could do absolutely nothing about it except stand there like a babbling idiot.

"I'll explain this to you later. I first need to get you to safety, then I need to take care of this issue." He guides me to a room deeper down in the building, under the ground. It looked similar to that of a dungeon, but then again, I haven't been in many dungeons. I look around, and I see some of the women and children of the pack. Harry talks to one of the women, and she nods to him, bowing her head in submission.

"Emma, my tairi, I need you to stay with Clarissa right now okay? This is serious. Please, do not leave here until I come down here myself to get you. I promise you right now, this is not one of my possessive tirades. I can't explain everything right now; there's not nearly enough time. I just need to trust me, okay?" There were so many questions running through my head, but I knew they could wait.

"Okay," I say, and he nods, gripping my face in between his palms and kissing me passionately before walking back up to the rest of the building, closing the door behind him. I stumble and almost fall over from the strength of his kiss, but Clarissa quickly catches me before I decided to kiss the floor as well. 

"Thank you," I mutter, a blush rising in my cheeks. I look up from the ground, and all I see are eyes.

The room was milling with activity, but everyone was looking at me. I see somewhat familiar faces, but the mix of people looking to me with faces full of hope absolutely terrified me. Did they expect me to take charge and make everything alright because not only was I not that kind of person, I was completely new to their world. In my haze, I feel a hand brush up against my arm, and I turn to see Ariadne with the same look on her face, and I backed up a little.

"You are our Luna," she says. I can already tell where this is heading. "They expect you to do something, whether that means a speech or allotment of tasks. We're all looking to you for guidance." And this is what I was afraid of.

"I have no idea, Ari," I whisper, running a hand through my hair. "What if I mess up?" She quickly gives me a hug, and I don't mistake the gasps I hear from the crowd when she does so.

"Don't worry," she says, whispering in my ear. "Everybody has their moments." I pull back from the hug, and she smiles at me, giving me a double thumbs up sign.

"Okay, everybody," I say, my voice wavering quite a bit. "We need to take stock of what we have down here. I want this quarter of the room to split up the food, and I want this quarter to ration out the blanket and pillows." With each word, I felt more and more confident. "This quarter needs to go through and make sure that everybody is fine and help anyone who is hurt, and finally, this last quarter to help occupy the children." All at once, the room seems to burst with a sense of coordinated chaos.

It seemed a little bit crazy, all the noise and all the people moving around, but if you looked closely, they all looked like a well oiled machine, each part moving in sync with the others. They worked well together, and I could only hope that one day I might be able to.

A couple of hours pass, the a few more pass before finally, the door to the dungeon-basement opens to reveal a sweaty and bloody Harry. It was definitely not a pretty sight. My eyes must have bugged out of my head, and a gasp shot out of my lips before I could contain it. I just couldn't help myself. As much as I disliked him at the moment, what if he had gotten hurt? What would I have done?

"Emma," he says, a smile on his face as he walks toward me.

"Harry," I breathe out, smiling as I realize that none of the blood on him was his. As I register that, my smile drops. Then who's blood was it?

"Harry," I say again, a frown etched into my face. "Who's blood do you have all over you." My lip quivers, and I try to stop it, but try as I might, I just couldn't. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

"I thought you might ask that," he says, muttering it softly so that only we can hear. "Everyone," he says, "there were rogues on out territory today, but please do not worry. They have been taken care up in the most absolute manner, and I can assure you all that they will not be back to hurt you. If anyone has any questions please feel free to ask me or any of my betas. Thank you all, and goodnight." He finishes addressing the crowd, and he pulls me through the door and back the way we came, wavering for a moment on the way to our room, looking to me for permission.

He quickly takes a shower, changes into a pair of boxers, and climbs into bed on one side as I hop into the other. There's an awkward space between us, but I don't know if I should just leave it be or if I should turn over just a fraction to get rid of it.

"So you want to know about rogues?" he says, not making eye contact.

"I asked you who's blood that was on you earlier," I said, not liking how he deflected my question.

"It was a rogue's."

"What's a rogue?"

"They're wolves without a pack. Wolves can live without a pack without becoming rogue, but not for very long. We're very social creatures, and living alone starts to eat away at the human side of our beings. As you spend more and more time without a pack, you start to lose your humanity, and you fall to your primal urges. The reason we terminate, for lack of a better word, the rogues is because they pose a serious threat to our pack. They hold no empathy, and they kill without remorse."

"Why were they here?" I ask, wondering why lone wolves would come close to other civilizations.

"What do you mean?" he says, and its obvious he's trying to redirect the question.

"What do they want?" I ask again, clarifying for him. His eyes have more than just a hint of black in him, and that awkward gap from before is no longer there, and his arms are wrapped around me. A growl is heard from the back of his throat; while it's faint, it's still somewhat audible.

"More like who," he spits out.

"Who?"

"You."

--

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xx Winter