THE ROGUE WOLF

by Klaire London

  My claws break through my fingertips, drawing part of the agony away from my battle wound. the grey material breaks through the surface of my pale skin, a roar escaping my mouth in pain. My breathing is so shallow, I feel as though it's stopped altogether.

  I no longer have feeling in my legs, but they refuse to topple down as the sword sits in my body. I can already feel the skin around it begin to heal restlessly, but there was only so long until it was too late for the sword to be pulled out - too late to save me.

  An animalist scream tears across the burning scape, my watering eyes trailing to find Josh, but he halts as the weapon is turned. I cough up blood, spraying it in tiny beads onto the waterlogged earth. Even against the brown of the dirt and dust, the red stands out stark like a flag. A flag of surrender; I'm not so sure.

  "I'll give it to you, Aurora," A familiar voice sniggers. Every cell in my body wants to rip out his heart and watch the light fade from his eyes. Yet again, people had died because of the platinum haired devil, and I had been unable to save them. "You're proving hard to kill."

  The boy pulls out the sword with an almighty tug. I hear my healing flesh protest against the metal as it is withdrawn, the relief short as the agony takes over.

  I keel over, clutching my stomach. My knees hit the wet floor, the icy water seemingly freezing the marrow in my bones. I cough blood once more, flecks of blood on my hands like blemishes. My wound was already beginning to heal, but I would have an ugly scar to prove that the gaping hole in my abdomen once existed. I will never be the same again; it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that.

  I clench my hands into fist, the skin still wet with red residue. How was Hunter not dead? I had killed him. I had watched him die.

  "Do you ever die?" I retort, clumsily rising to my feet. My hands grasp at my belt, coming away with nothing more than my hunting knife. My sword lies somewhere in the rubble and dirt, a relic to be found in the smouldering ruins of the city. I've only seen destruction like this twice in my life: Alex's pack; and now. It's enough to make a person hide the good half of their soul for the rest of their unforgiving life.

  Hunter raises his invisible eyebrows: the hair is so white, they appear dilapidated and non-existent against his faded skin tone. "I hardly think that a knife is going to help you." The male shakes his head, flicking his wrist and sword in succession. He makes the weapon appear weightless, just like the way he walks as though he's floating on a grounded cloud. The platinum haired werewolf raises a hand to something behind me.

  I turn around in bewilderment. Josh supports Damien as he stands, mid-step as he clutches his side. A hole is torn in his garments, claw marks raked down his side, creating valleys like a ploughed field. My heart jumps to my throat in fear, even though I tell myself that he's ok. Damien is ok.

  A hand abruptly grips at my waist, pulling me into Hunter's hard chest. Though the leader of the rogues looks like he could snap in half with the jolt of my arm, he holds strong, like a statue of stone. I don't need to feel the cold against my throat to know that Hunter has placed his sword there. It presses against my windpipe, threatening to slip further and paint a red smile at the base of my neck. The recently sharpened blade breaks my skin, and I bite my lip to try and keep myself from yelping in pain. I don't succeed.

  I widen my hazel eyes without meaning to, immediately feeling weak, as though Hunter has already won. I want to cry out to Josh or Damien to save me, to do something as I stand powerless to the rogue's will. But I'm useless. All I can do is watch the blade rise and fall on my neck with each laboured breath. The oxygen whistles through my teeth like a low pitched whistle.

  "Come any closer, and I slit her pretty neck," Hunter speaks slowly, satisfied. I don't need to turn around to know that he's sniggering: it's a look I've grown accustomed to during the few times I've had the 'privilege' of meeting him. Josh and Damien seem frozen in place. "Good," Hunter continues.

  Damien's hands are already clenched, his blade dropped from his palm in surrender. Two rogues lie at his feet, both unmoving. We are monsters.

  "Just tell us what you want," Josh says, licking his lips. His face is plastered with ash and blood. I can't even begin to fathom where he was before the horror occurred. And where was Azra? Was she safe? After everything Hunter and his rogues had done to her, I wouldn't let them touch her. "Please, just don't hurt her."

  I glare at Damien. His lips move, but words do not form. Surely he has something to say? I could die today; my blood has already stained the snow, and more could follow. Why was he acting so calm about everything?

  My hands pry at Hunter's thin, yet muscular arms. They refuse to budge, even an inch. The pale pigment of his dilapidated skin is disturbingly white against my tanned complexion. At least the cool tone reflected the ice in his non-existent heart.

  Hunter laughs - a long, almost mechanical laugh used by villains in superhero films. "I want my mate," The man replies. He presses his sword so tightly against my neck that my air supply is cut off. I desperately clasp at his arms, but that results in him knocking my deep wound intentionally. I whimper as a response.

  Josh's eyes are stern. "We can do th-"

  Hunter removes an arm for a mere second, holding up a single finger. "I'm not finished," He continued. Oh, he was enjoying this. The arsehole. It was as if people dying turned him on. "I want you to surrender."

  My hands stop fumbling for a second, as if they've hit pause. I see the blank gaze distort Damien's face, and immediately know what he's going to do.

  "Damien!" I attempt to scream, but all that comes out is a huffed breath that has no particular sound. "Don't. Please don't."

  But Damien does what he normally does in similar situations (not that any have been quite so serious) - he chucks the dagger from him belt, and raises his hands. The blade sticks in the soft mud, perpendicular to the battlefield, scarring it.

  Hunter loosens his grip around my throat, the edge of the blade pressing sharply into my chest with each inhale. "Damien," I half-shout, half-scream, my teeth gritted like white bone vices. If only I could tear out Hunter's throat with them. "No. I'm not worth it."

  Hunter's chest rises and fall abruptly, his clothes rubbing against the fabric of my own. I decided to wear a thick, human-made winter coat earlier to keep out the cold, but I'm shivering despite the fire and anguish raging inside me like a Chinese dragon. "It's a strange thing, love," Hunter says softly, almost a whisper in my ear. "The way it can heal a person." He paused, lowering the sword completely. Damien's eyes stray from my own, transfixing on something behind me. They don't blink, the golden-cobalt orbs concentrated by the dusk light. "And tear them apart."

  A firm hand pushes at my back, separating me from Hunter. But I know what's going to happen next: I've seen enough fights to know exactly what he plans.

  My hand scampers for my final dagger, the other clutching the wound as a new kind of agony soars through my veins like an adrenaline rush composed of poison. I swirl my hand around, just in time for it to stop Hunter's sword from entering my body once more. The two metal objects collide with a reverberating clang, and I use all of my remaining strength to push the leader of the rogue's much longer weapon away from my body.

  Exhausted, I fall to my knees. The watery mud soaks through my black leggings, trickling onto my skin like an icy bucket of water.

  "Aura!" Josh shouts as my vision is shrouded by Hunter's shadow. I can't see Josh nor Damien, but the thundering sound of footsteps sparks hope in my like a wild lightning strike. "Don't you dare touch her!"

  The sword's under my chin before I know it. I look up through the dark slits of my eyelashes, like monsters stirring my vision, to see the blotched image of Hunter smiling menacingly in a grin that split his uniquely angular face in two. He pushes the sword upwards, forcing me to look away from the ground and into the horizon.

  He's going to kill me. I have to do something, I tell myself, yet my muscles are slack. I hate this - feeling completely and utterly useles
s.

  My eyes gloss over with water, but I bite my tongue to stop tears forming. Crying will come later. Survival had to come first. It always did.

  I scream as my bear palms make contact with the blade, the extremely sharp cutting deep welts in my hands. The blood appears a sticky, morbid black as it drips through the cracks of my scars burdened on my skin like embroidery. It was beautiful, in a way, but it also reminded me of a cursed demon.

  Strength rages through my arms as I push the sword away, palms bloody, panting in exhaustion.

  Hunter stumbles to the side, giving me enough time to get to my feet - or rather, for Damien to haul me to my feet. My winter boots sink pathetically into the mud like it's quick sand.

  "We need to go!" He shouts in my face, half-dragging me behind him.

  Despite the situation, I still have time to roll my eyes. "You think that I don't know that?" I yell back, resting a hand on my stomach as we begin to run back towards the castle, Josh in tow.

  "You can't run from this, Damien," A surprisingly loud growl echoes behind us. I hear the immediate crackle of bones snapping like twigs, alerting me to the fact that the monster had become an even greater heinous beast.

  Damien puts his head down, narrowing his eyes as he picks me up for a millisecond, lifting me over a pile of burnt bones. I taste bile rise in my throat.

  "Don't listen to him," I whisper as I grip onto his wrist. Josh surges in front of us, immediately heading straight through the oak doors of the castle and leaving them open for us to follow through. Damien shoves me as gently as he can through the barricades, slamming the wooden doors behind us swiftly and placing the huge bolt across the equally huge door. The stone walls have never felt so cold.

  "I'm not," He replies quietly.

  Damien halts. The gold flecks of his eyes are much more prominent as he gazes at me. The slither of a smile echoes onto his face as the weak rays of light hit his handsome face through the fine window. I can't read the expression - it's something I've never been good at. His soft hands reaches up to cup my cheek, and I lean into it.

  "I almost lost you," He whispers, the other hand winding around my waist. He tries desperately to avoid my wound, but his attempt is fruitless. He pulls me closer into his chest. I can smell his relaxing scent of pine trees and fresh dirt drift into my nostrils. It reminds me of summer and the time when my father took me out to go and practice with my new sword which he had won in a bet against the previous Alpha. "I- I almost lost you," he repeats, bowing his head towards the ground.

  I furrow my brow as I watch a tear roll onto his cheek. I've never been in a relationship before, but I know what I need to do, so I do it. I wipe away his tear tentatively, before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

  "You do still know that I'm here, right?" Josh states awkwardly, completely and utterly ruining the moment. He waves at me as I break away from the embrace, wiping my own face with the burnt sleeve of my top. It must've caught alight when I hit the ground, but with my pain, I hadn't even noted its existence. Just like the way I had ignored Josh. "I mean, there's nothing else happening, right? Just a freaking psychopath coming to kill all of us, probably in the most grotesque way you can probably think of. Oh, and did I forget to mention the fact that the rest of the city is probably being slaughtered by mindless rogues?" Josh speaks so quickly, his words become a mush of syllables. He takes a deep breath and shrugs. "You know, nothing much. It's not like we're going to die or anything."

  "Sorry," I speak for the pair of us. Damien bites his lip, giving me a guilty smile as I squeeze his hand, forgetting the blood plastered on it. "I'm still here, Damien. I'm ok. And Josh is right; we need to go. Is there another way out of here?"

  Damien nods sternly, releasing my hand from his comforting grip. My hand immediately feels empty without it, as if part of my soul had been snatched away from right under my nose.

  "Follow me," he orders, and we follow in pursuit.

  The castle is oddly silent as we wind through passageways. Where I expect there to be battle cries and Arla citizens begging for their lives, there is nothing but empty air. It's not like everyone dropped what they were doing and ran - it's like they never existed in the first place.

  Finally, we reach a door that overlooks the drop into the natural mote that protects the left side of the city. It was no wonder why the other werewolves had automatically run for this side of the fortress; the wide torrent of murky water separating the kingdom from land was extremely hard to cross, and something a rogue would never try to pursue.

  I gulp as I eye the grey water, the white crests rising like horses from the deep, rearing out wildly with their hooves. The drop itself is at least ten meters - survivable, but dangerous. It only takes one glance at Damien to know what he's thinking.

  A vision of nightmares abruptly engulfs my vision like a bare flame. I feel water flood into my throat; literally pry open my lips and soak into my body as I grip at my oesophagus.

  My vision blinks back out to a sterile white, the world cold and frigid in comparison. My hands lower form my throat as the black patches swell away into nothingness, as if they had never existed.

  "Damien," I begin, my fingertips softly running down his bare arm through the claw marks of his shredded T-shirt. I see the hint of a six pack through the grunge pigmented material, and look away as my cheeks flash red. "I can't do this," I gulp, gazing down at the chasm once more. More bile rises in my throat, and this time I can't keep it down: I empty the contents of my stomach into the roiling water, leaning over the marble banister. It's the only thing separating me from reality and my dreaded nightmares. "There must be another way out."

  "There isn't." Damien clasps one of my hands as Josh stands back awkwardly, chewing his thumb nail. "What's wrong?" He enquires. The intensity of his gaze forces me to drop my own to the grey flooring.

  A peculiar smile takes over my features: I'm unsure if I'd even be able to read it if I was looking at my mirror reflection. "I just really hate water," I confess.

  "What a pity," A voice echoes as the doors to the balcony open eerily, the sound of the rushing water cut from my ears. A dark boot peers through the gap, like vicious oil escaping from a tank. Next comes the shining, luminescent reflection of his sword, and finally his discoloured hair. "I guess I'll just have to kill all of you."

  Instead of Damien pushing me behind him, I do the opposite. It was me he had tried to kill earlier. Now it was me he would have to kill first.

  "You do realise that there is a concept called 'giving up,'" I snarl, bearing my teeth as they elongate. The pointed ends of my canines prick my bottom lip like two fine needles. "Maybe you should try it sometime."

  Hunter draws his dark clothing out of the way of his belt so that he can sheath his weapon. "As much as I admire your stubbornness, Aurora," He wipes off a blotch of blood - my blood - from his sword, "I do not admire your sarcasm."

  "No one asked for your opinion, arsehole."

  The teen wolf sniggers. "They didn't need to."

  Hunter steps forwards, his sword sliding against its sheath like a death bell. We all collectively step back to keep the distance between us relatively the same. My back hits the solid rock behind us, making the man before us sneer further. Unless we jumped - which was practically a death sentence - he would possibly slaughter all of us. He definitely had the capacity to do so.

  "We surrendered," I hiss, desperate not to jump into the water. "Now leave us alone."

  Another step forwards. "But where's my mate?" Hunter enquires, his dark eyes lingering like much-despised pests. He waves a hand around the stale air, uninterested. "I don't see her, and if I remember correctly, those were the terms to keep you alive."

  He presses forward, and I savour each beat of my heart, fearing that it might be my last. There was no reasoning with Hunter. He either got what he wanted, or you died as a consequence.

  Damien's fingers tickle my palm as he leans in. I can feel his lips move gently against my ear, his voice so
quite it sounds like the whisper of winter. "Do you trust me?"

  Do I trust him? Good question, because I honestly still don't know the answer.

  "Oh come on, Damien," Hunter murmurs. "Don't be a coward. Be the King everyone else so blindly looks to for guidance, whom everyone will commend for bravely dying in battle."

  Damien's hand flinches away from my own, coiling into fists. "I'm not a coward."

  Hunter drifts his hand in front of us, inviting him to fight. "Then show me," the boy remarks, flashing teeth as white as his skin and hair.