"We have to go!" my mom screamed, her frantic expression ringing through the safe house.
Her grey eyes, framed by years of deep sorrow, seemed to glow wider and brighter than any earthly moon I'd ever witnessed in that deadly moment. My stomach sank into a feeling of total unease; my senses heightened, and the gut instinct to either fight or flee began to surge within me.
"Did you hear me? They found us, we have to go," she scolded, shaking me as if trying to jolt some sense into me.
Her grip was ironclad, her nails digging into my shoulders. I sobered up instantly, the fog clearing from my mind.
"Where's Dad?" I managed to ask, my voice barely a whisper. She scoffed, her eyes flashing with panic.
"We don't have time for questions." She stood up quickly, grabbing my wrist and yanking me to my feet. Our emergency bag, packed with our essentials and money, hung heavily from her taut back. We bolted for the door, our wild footsteps echoing through the tiny, musty cabin that had served as our sanctuary for the past month. Its rustic charm had long since faded, replaced by a sense of impending doom.
Mom ripped open the door, shoving me out into the cold night air, causing me to stumble.
"You need to run, now," she hissed, thrusting the bag into my arms with a force that almost knocked me over.
"What about you?" I pleaded, panic rising in my chest.
She shook her head silently, her face set with grim determination. "I'll be okay, go."
The back door slammed shut behind her. Panic filled my veins, a cold rush that threatened to paralyze me. I took in the foggy forest, barely able to see mere feet in front of me. A soft, warm glow emanated from the front of the cabin. I ran straight back from the house until the glow had softed. I paused, looking back, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The shadow of a man loomed by the door, brooding and menacing. He was obviously stronger than most males in our former pack, his presence exuding raw power. Surrounding him was a small army of men who looked small by comparison. As the men shifted, I caught a brief, clearer glimpse of the bloodied man on the ground, and dread settled in my gut like a lead weight. His stomach was pressed firmly against the mossy ground, which had sponged up copious amounts of his blood, by a large foot. My eyes strained to see who it was, but the darkness of dusk prevailed.
I crouched down by the thick tree line, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched. The brooding figure by the door commanded the attention of his men with an unspoken authority, his dark silhouette standing stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin. He nodded his head forward, signaling his two men. They lurched into action, one of them delivering a powerful kick to the front door, the impact splintering the frame and sending shards of wood flying. Without hesitation, they rushed into the cabin, their movements swift and brutal. The sounds of crashing and fighting erupted from within, and seemed to reverberate through the trees. My mother's muffled screams pierced the night.
I shifted uncomfortably in my hiding spot, every instinct screaming at me to run in and help her. The forest around me felt alive with tension, the rustling leaves and distant animal calls a stark contrast to the chaos within the cabin. Silently conflicted, I wrestled with the urge to act against the overwhelming fear that held me in place. The primal need to protect my family clashed with the stark reality of our situation, leaving me paralyzed.
"Fuck you," my mom growled out, as she was shoved out of the door, landing hard on the mossy ground.
She stumbled to her feet, her eyes widening in horror as she looked at the captured man. A soft whimper escaped her lips. It instantly clicked: that was my dad, beaten past the point of recognition, even to his mate. The leader of the intruders watched her intently as he approached my dad.
He grabbed a fistful of his chocolate hair, yanking his head up to force him to look at her. The sound was sickening, the motion violent and cruel. My mom crumbled to the floor, her sobs echoing in a haunting melody of despair. She didn't dare to look up.
"Go," I heard my mom's voice echoing in my mind, a desperate command that cut through my fear. "You either die here or run."
A few men advanced towards her, their movements calculated and predatory. Even from a distance, I could sense the hatred radiating from them, their intentions as clear as day. With a furrowed brow, I watched on, the tension in the air palpable as the confrontation unfolded.
"It's not what you think! We didn't support that lunatic! He was insane!" my mom screamed, her voice trembling with both defiance and desperation. "You've already won!"
Their leader stepped forward, illuminated by the soft glow cast by the cabin's warm light. His silhouette contrasted against the darkness of the forest beyond. This man was unmistakable; his presence alone sent shivers of recognition down my spine.
Erik, the leader and alpha of these people, scoffed, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Let you go? If he was so crazy, then why were you the prized Beta family, huh?"
He took a step closer, his presence imposing and sinister.
"Whatever. It doesn't matter now." He made a dismissive hand motion, his face twisted in a sneer.
"Find the daughter," he ordered, his baritone voice cold and commanding.
My heart pounded in my chest as panic surged through me. The forest, which had been my refuge, now felt like a trap closing in on all sides. Every rustle of leaves, every snapping twig, seemed to signal their approach, sending jolts of fear through my body. I knew I had to move, to escape before they found me. The weight of the bag in my arms was a stark reminder of the urgency of my situation and a symbol of our desperate bid for survival.
As Erik's men spread out like a plague, their eyes scanning the dark underbrush with predatory intent, I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm. My mom's voice echoed in my mind again, urging me to survive. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. Silently, I began to edge away, my movements careful and deliberate, each step taking me further into the unknown depths of the forest.
I glanced back, only to see Erik turning toward the forest, his eyes narrowing as if he could sense my presence. A chill ran down my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I couldn't afford to wait and see if he found his intuition to be correct. Without another thought, I shifted, my body transforming in an instant. On all fours, I knew I would be quieter and faster, my senses more attuned to the forest.
I darted into the shadows, the underbrush parting silently around me. The familiar scents of the forest mingled with the adrenaline coursing through my veins, sharpening my focus. The trees blurred past as I ran, my heart pounding in rhythm with my racing thoughts. Every instinct screamed at me to keep moving, to not look back, to survive.
The forest seemed endless, each shadow a potential threat, each sound a reminder of the danger I had left behind. But I couldn't afford to stop. I pushed myself harder, knowing that my mom's sacrifice would be in vain if I were caught.
I ran for hours, the urgency of my flight propelling me forward until the relentless pace took its toll. Eventually, my frantic sprint slowed to a walk. The forest floor, once a blur beneath my feet, now revealed its details: the moss beginning to dampen with the first touch of morning dew, the leaves and twigs from seasons past crunching softly underfoot. My feet, raw and tender from the relentless journey, ached with every step.
As dawn broke, casting a pale light through the canopy, I reached the edge of the fifth town I had passed. This one was rural, with a handful of houses dotting the landscape, their outlines barely visible in the early morning fog. There were no signs of life stirring yet, the stillness of the pre-dawn hours enveloping everything in a quiet, almost eerie calm.
I sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion and uncertainty. The isolation of this place was both a blessing and a curse. It offered the solace of anonymity but lacked the resources I so desperately needed. My stomach growled, a reminder of how long it had been since I'd last eaten, and my parched throat ached for water. I knew I couldn't stay here long; Erik's men would be searching, and this town, as remote as it seemed, might not remain a safe haven for long.
I scanned the surroundings, looking for any sign of potential shelter. The first hints of sunlight began to peek over the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and gold. In the distance, a solitary motel stood, its weathered exterior suggesting it had stood the test of time. Drawing a deep breath, I steeled myself as I stole one last glance at the forest behind me. I guess this shithole will work, I thought.
I changed back and got dressed before fully entering the town, taking a moment to ensure I appeared as inconspicuous as possible. From the bag, I pulled out a few $100 bills, a precautionary measure we'd learned the hard way. Flashing money carelessly had attracted unwanted attention the last time we were forced into human society.
I walked to the nearest motel. The building was worn and weathered, a relic of better days. As I entered the office, the scent of stale cigarette smoke assaulted my senses, mingling with the faint odor of mildew. An old man sat behind the counter, perched on what must have been the world's most worn-out chair. Its upholstery was threadbare, and springs poked through the fabric in several places. He never looked up from his phone, his attention absorbed by whatever was on the small screen.
The counter in front of him seemed ancient, its surface marred by the passage of time. Flyers, once affixed with tape, lay in various states of decay, their edges curling and yellowed. A few remnants of adhesive clung stubbornly to the wood, relics of long-forgotten events and services. The overall atmosphere was one of neglect, a place that had seen too many years without care.
Lovely.
"I need two nights," I said, my voice steady despite the exhaustion gnawing at me.
"OK, that'll be $175 and your ID," the old man replied, his tone indifferent as he barely looked up from his phone.
"How about," I paused to take out $300 and placed it on the counter. The warped laminate crinkled under the crisp bills. "This, and your discretion on me being here? No ID."
He snorted, a sound more dismissive than amused. "Let me guess? Married?"
I shook my head, firmly. "No."
"That's what they all say," he muttered under his breath. With a weary sigh, he turned and grabbed a key labeled "222" from the board behind him.
"Lucky you. Matching numbers to keep your husband from finding out," he said with a lazy gesture toward the stairs. "Take the stairs to the second floor, and go left."
"Thanks, but again, not married," I reiterated.
"Mhm, yeah, and I'm the Pope," he replied with a smirk, clearly unconvinced.
I rolled my eyes and departed from the office, relieved to be away from the musty smell and the old man's judgmental gaze. Before heading to my room, I stopped at the vending machines. The flickering fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow on the assortment of snacks. I selected a few things — crackers, chips, and a couple of candy bars — knowing they'd have to last for the next couple days.
The stairs leading to the second floor were a testament to the motel's age. Rust adorned every piece of metal, and the steps groaned under my weight. I sighed, each creak a reminder of the precariousness of my situation. As I climbed, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the times when life was simpler, when the biggest worry was where to go on a weekend, not running for my life.
Reaching the second floor, I found Room 222. The numbers were faded and chipped, barely legible. The last two numbers on the door was hanging onto the door by some clear scotch tape. I inserted the key and turned it, the lock clicking open with a reluctant groan. The room was small and dimly lit, with a single bed covered by a threadbare blanket, a nightstand with a flickering lamp, and a small, outdated television.
I set my bag down and collapsed onto the bed, the springs creaking beneath me as if echoing the weight of my exhaustion. Rolling over, I reached for the bag of chips. The crinkle of the packaging seemed to echo in the quiet room. I popped one in my mouth, instantly frowning at the staleness. I tossed the bag down next to my room key, the dorky red keychain adorned with its faded golden '222' marking mocked me.
"Lucky numbers my ass," I mumbled, before being engulfed in silence.
My mind raced. The events of the past day played over and over in my mind like a relentless loop, each memory more vivid and haunting than the last. The fear, the desperation, the anger — all of it flooded back with intensity. We had several 'close calls' in the past, but none had ever resulted in capture. We had always managed to slip through the cracks. Still, there was an unspoken understanding among us that our luck would eventually run out.
Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the already dim room as I struggled to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions. My hands roughly rubbed down my face, tugging down the skin of my cheeks. My heart ached with worry for my mom, her voice echoing in my mind, urging me to run, to survive. I couldn't shake the image of her face, the fear and determination etched into every line. And my dad; was he still alive, or had I lost him too? The uncertainty gnawed at me.
Tears welled in my eyes, hot and stinging, as I grappled with the enormity of it all. With a shaky breath, I lay back on the bed, the mattress sagging beneath my weight. I closed my eyes, seeking solace in the darkness that enveloped me. The sounds of the motel — the distant hum of the vending machines, the occasional creak of the building — faded into the background as sleep began to claim me. But even drifting into much welcomed sleep, the ache in my chest remained, a constant reminder of the pain and uncertainty that awaited me when I woke.