The first thing I notice when I come to is the uncomfortable chair I'm sitting in. My butt is numb and I can barely shift without an agonized grunt leaving me. Then I notice my restrained hands and legs. My eyes widen as I recognize the silver chain around my wrists and ankles. I shake my body violently, growing frustrated at the situation. Before I know it, tears are running down my face, but it only makes me more annoyed. There's been so many tears and I can't take it anymore.
Forcing myself to calm down, I want for my tears to stop. My eyes are blurry from the liquid, but I still take the time to survey the room. It's a replica of an interrogation room. The walls are dull and painted gray, giving a depressing feel to it. A silver, steel table is pushed up against the wall, opposite of the white door. A lone chair is pushed under the table. Across from my chair is a two-way mirror. I assume it's one because what's the point of having a regular mirror inside.
The tulle fabric of my dress scratches uncomfortably against my legs. The stranger's blood is still smeared against my bare arms, now dry and brown. With this situation, I'd much rather be back at my pack. And if Timothy was out of the equation, I'd even be somewhat happy to be back there.
Having those thoughts in mind, I begin to panic. The unknown is something a lot of people fear. I hadn't, at least not until now. I begin screaming, letting out all of my frustration and terror. It's the only thing I can do other than look.
"Please, let me out of here!" I shout and it causes me to become croaky after. My throat is still bruised from being choked by the man, so the constricting of it doesn't help at all. "Please."
My pleads are answered when the white door swings open. The same lady from before steps forward. She wears the same blank face she had before, but the amusement in her eyes doesn't go unnoticed. She steps ahead, crossing her hands behind her back. Once all the way in the room, her stance becomes stiff. The woman presses her feet and legs together, standing straight. Her hands drop to her sides and she faces forward, tilting her head back slightly.
Another person enters the room slowly. Their steps are quiet and I assume they've got stealth. A hooded cloak covers them so I'm unable to see their face. I watch them as they walk over to the table. They reach forward and pull out the chair, slowly placing it in front of me. Then they sit.
"Do you know why you're here?" they speak, asking this question as if I'm a child. That's definitely how I feel with their tone of voice.
My mouth drops open. "Because we hurt that person?" My voice comes out much more weak and feeble than I would have liked.
The person lifts a hand and pulls the hood off. It reveals a woman, one whose beauty is beyond words. Her black hair is slicked back into a low ponytail and she pulls it to one side of her. The tendrils fall down her chest, almost reaching her waist. Her green eyes glow brightly, possibly the brightest thing in this dull room. Our eyes meet and her lips lift up into a smirk.
"Hurt?" I hadn't noticed before, but her voice is melodic and naturally soft. "You mean the person you killed?"
My breath stops and I widen my eyes at her statement. Slowly, I begin shaking my head. He had to still be alive. There was no way Rory had actually killed a person.
"Killed?" I whisper, looking down at the tattered and ripped skirt of my dress. The thing is ruined and there's no fixing it.
"Yes," she answers bluntly. "She's dead and I'm going to go out on a limb and assume it was the wolf boy who did it."
My head shoots up at that. The shakes of my head become more violent. "No! I... I did it. I killed him."
The words are like buckets of acid coming out of my mouth. The lies burn, but I can't allow Rory to go down for this. Not when he was protecting me from that terrible, terrible person.
The woman before me raises a dark, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Is that so? Because your friend has told us a different story. Oh honey, he sang like a connary, now he's screaming in his cell."
Her tone is condescending and makes me angry beyond words. Rory is a kind soul and he doesn't deserve to be locked up for the second time in his life. I don't realize I'm holding my breath until it comes out in a huge puff.
"Your... that person was going to kill me!" The shout comes out of me before I can stop it.
The lady rolls her eyes. "That person was one of our coven's top guards. Now, I'm more interested about how she could've died from a mangled arm. Vampires don't exactly bleed out, darling."
And the truth is revealed. These people are vampires, one of the deadliest creatures I know about. As children, all werewolves were told about these creatures who like to lurk in the night. Vampires were seen as beings who showed no mercy so they were perfect to use to keep kids in line. They were like folklores because werewolves did not cross a vampire's path. Meeting a vampire is like meeting one's death. Truthfully, I've always thought they were old wive's tales.
"What do you mean? You're not going to charge me and Rory?" Her words are beyond confusing. This may sound insensitive, but I don't care how the person died, I only care about Rory's wellbeing.
She shrugs and tilts her head to the side as she watches me. "It's not my authority."
"Then whose is it?" I snap. "You're keeping us here against our will. If you aren't going to convict us for killing that man then do something! Set us free and we'll never cross you guys again."
After my mini-speech, my eyes catch the female next to the door. Her gaze are still forward, but her lips are pursed. It's hard to tell what she's thinking, but as I continue to stare at her, my head begins throbbing. There's a familiar tug in the back of my skull. The feeling that someone is trying to get through. Maybe the woman can feel my emotions before her stare shoots over in my direction. I give her an odd look before I pull my scrutiny away from her. I've been staring too long anyway. Turning my attention back to the interrogator, I'm met with a stony face.
The woman's eyes flash, glowing for a split second before settling down. Her jaw clenches and when she opens her mouth, I catch the shiny tip of what I think are fangs. She clears her throat. "That man was actually a woman," she reveals, finally answering that question for me.
"Can you just tell me how Rory is? You said he was screaming before. Is he hurt?" My anger washes away as I grow concerned.
The lady rolls her eyes. "We don't need to worry about that right now. What I'm wondering is why two children are wandering around the woods alone. We have a wolf boy... but just what are you?"
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I hold in a scoff. "I'm a wolf," I answer, but by her look, I know she doesn't believe me.
The woman raises an eyebrow just as she did earlier and her eyes shoot to the chains around my wrists. She moves forward, getting closer to me and stares into my eyes. Whatever she finds must be enough for her to believe me because she scoffs and settles back.
"Why are you wandering alone in the deep, dark woods, wolf?"
I keep my mouth shut, not feeling comfortable enough to disclose everything that's happened. I'm still not even all the way sure of just what happened. While I have the memories, everything feels like a blur. It feels like it's all just a huge dream when I know that it's not.
She sighs and shakes her head. "Fine." She looks away from me and towards the woman by the door. "Ingrid, send in a ticket. We'll be wrapping this up for now."
There's nothing I can say as she stands to her feet. For the nth time today, I begin to panic. The thought of not being able to see Rory at least once tears me down.
"Please! Please, allow me to see Rory at least once." I'm not sure if my pleading and crying is doing anything. Her body does still in front of the door before she can exit.
Her shoulders slump before she turns back to me. She comes over to me and in a quick motion, unlocks the chains. With her green eyes drilling into me, she gives me a hardened look. It causes a shiver to roll down my spine, setting in fear.
"If you try anything, your head will be mounted in my home. Do you understand, wolf?"
Hastily, I nod my head, letting her know that I understand. She nods at me before placing a cold hand on my bare shoulder and leading me out of the door. The woman, Ingrid, follows after us. As we walk, I take the time to study the female next to me more. She's considerably taller than me. Come to think of it, so is Ingrid. The lady next to me, while attuned to stony expressions, is still a lot more beautiful than I could ever be. Her face is free of any blemishes, making me jealous. Her nose is straight and small, but it fits her face perfectly. Below, her lips are naturally pouty and pink. This woman is actually a model and I'm wondering how someone can look so perfect.
"Stop your staring," she commands as she turns down a hall. My cheeks grow red as I look away from her.
We stop outside of a white door just like the one for my interrogation room. The lady pulls out a key and shoves it into the lock. Then she turns the knob and pushes the door open. Before thinking, I push past her and head straight for Rory. He sits with his shoulders slumped and his head down. Immediately, I drop to my knees in front of him. When he doesn't look up, I place my hands on his cheeks and lift his head myself. The sight breaks my heart.
Rory's cheeks are drenched with the tears that still leak from his eyes. Under his nose is wet from his snot. His eyes are red and puffy and sad while his nose is red. The man before me looks unbelievably broken and I don't know what to do or why he's feeling like this. I start to examine the rest of his body for any signs of abuse done to him. The only thing are his bloody wrists from the silver chains.
"Oh, God, Rory," I whimper, leaning forward and taking him into my arms. His shoulders start shaking and the cries start to fall from his mouth louder. "You're too beautiful to cry."
My words manage to pull a tiny laugh from him. Though it quickly gets drowned out by his whines, I'm happy it happened. I pout as I hold his head against my shoulder because what else can I do?
"Please, tell me what's wrong." I'm starting to feel like the only word in my vocabulary is 'please' with how much I've said it. It seems that it's all I ever say.
"They're dead," he says, taking me by surprise. What exactly is he talking about? "I don't... I can't."
Rory coughs as he tries to catch his breath. "My mate, Sophia-Grace," he finally explains, pulling away from me. He stares into my eyes deeply, pushing his sadness onto me. "I don't have a mate."
And it hits me at once; it's Rory's twenty-first birthday and his mate is gone.