by Lola Gabriel
“What if our lives are in danger?” a Delta inquired.
Kodiak glared at them pensively, feeling their fear as well as their agitation, and he shook his head. “I will never allow that to happen. You are my pack, my family. I have kept everyone safe up until now, and I don't intend on stopping. All I need from you is your help.”
A low murmur filled the room and Kodiak glanced at Jett, who was biting her lower lip, looking a bit on the worried side. He once again chose to ignore her pessimism and turned to the front. As he was about to say something, his phone vibrated in his pocket and he stepped away, allowing his pack members to speak amongst themselves for a while.
He didn't recognize the number but he answered anyway. “Kodiak Wylde.”
“Good evening, Alpha Wylde.”
Kodiak frowned, not recognizing the voice on the line, and demanded, “Who is this?”
“My name isn't important, but it is important that you know your pack is going down. I will personally see to it.”
“Who are you?” Kodiak demanded again.
“As I mentioned, no one special, but I assure you that the end of your pack is in the cards.”
“You should know better than to threaten me, whoever the hell you are.”
The person on the other line snickered in amusement. “Watch your back, Wylde. A storm is coming.”
Then the call disconnected.
Kodiak’s jaw clenched as he lowered his phone and glared at Jett and Moss, who looked at him with perplexed expressions.
“Who was that?” Jett asked.
“I have no idea, but he just made the biggest mistake of his life threatening me,” Kodiak muttered.
“What did he say?” Moss asked, his green eyes glowing ominously.
“That I should watch my back, a storm is coming, and that the end of my pack is in the cards,” Kodiak explained.
Jett squared her shoulders and shook her head. “Not with us around. Clearly, that guy doesn't know who he’s dealing with.”
Kodiak nodded, not really sure what to say without sounding overly confident, and turned back to the pack members, who seemed to have made their decision.
One of the elder Epsilons stood and addressed Kodiak. “We’ll talk to the Zetas. It’s in everyone’s interest to keep this pack safe. We’re a family and whatever you decide, Alpha, we’ll do. You haven't ever let us down and we owe everything to you.”
“Thank you.” Kodiak turned away and toward Jett, who surprisingly gave him a reassuring nod.
The pack members cleared out of the room, along with Jett who saw them out safely, and Kodiak turned to Moss. “I want you to gather a team for me. The fastest, the strongest and the best tracker, and I want you to lead them. I want you to find those wolves and bring them to me. I’ll kill them myself. No one threatens the safety of my pack.”
Moss stood from his seat and approached Kodiak with a frown. “What about you? You were just threatened. You’re going to need protection as well.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll just dive back into all this crap that’s going on inside my head. I know how to handle it.”
“Do you? You know what happened the last time you did that,” Moss reminded him.
“I learned from my mistakes and I won’t allow a human to impair my judgment again. That I can promise you right here, right now,” Kodiak uttered with confidence.
“Good, because I’d hate to see you go down that road again.”
“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate your concern,” Kodiak said and patted Moss on the shoulder. “Call me when your team is ready.”
Before Moss could answer, Kodiak turned and walked to the door. He was ready to leave. It had been a long and tiring day, and frankly, Kodiak had had enough of it.
3
Ferren gazed down at her patient file and frowned as her head started to throb, making it almost impossible for her to read the writing on the chart. It had been a week since she was attacked by an animal in the woods on her way home, but it felt like the longest week of her life.
After Ferren woke up in the snow, bleeding from an open wound in her shoulder, she drove herself to the hospital. She was in and out of consciousness and couldn't remember what had happened before getting to the hospital, or after. Her injury had been minor, and it was healing really well considering the amount of blood she lost and the depth of the bite marks.
According to Mike, who insisted on treating her even though he was a cardiac surgeon, the hospital had had quite a few patients with similar injuries. Ferren even had to speak with the Seattle Police Department, reporting the case to them. Mike had confirmed that it had been a wolf that attacked her, and her story correlated with those of all the other victims who were involved in similar attacks.
The yellow eyes.
Ferren shivered every time she thought about those yellow eyes and it made her feel nauseated all over again. Luckily her parents were in the Bahamas, or she would have been lectured to no end about her safety.
However, she had no plans to move. Her home had become a quiet sanctuary where she could relax, clear her mind, and apparently get attacked by a wolf.
She found it odd that a wolf would be in such a populated place, and wondered whether it was too stubborn to leave, or just out for a midnight snack. Judging by the bite he took out of Ferren’s shoulder, he was probably starving.
“Dr. Daniels?”
Ferren’s head jerked up and she glared at Nurse Carter standing in the doorway of the emergency room and frowned slightly.
“Are you okay?”
Ferren lowered the file and shook her head. “I don’t know. I...”
“Maybe you should go home,” Nurse Carter suggested. “You haven't been feeling well all day, and your skin is very ashy.”
“I know,” Ferren muttered and rolled her shoulders painfully. “I just need to check on this patient.”
Nurse Carter nodded but before she turned away, she froze for a second, a look of alarm on her face. “Dr. Daniels, you’re bleeding.”
Ferren looked down at her shoulder and saw the fresh blood stain seeping through her clothes. Nurse Carter approached her, taking the file from her. “Sit down. Let me take a look at that.”
Ferren nodded, feeling light-headed, and sat down on the edge of the empty examination bed. Nurse Carter slid the drenched shirt off Ferren’s shoulder and grabbed a large piece of gauze. “Get Mike, please,” Ferren uttered in a nauseated tone.
Nurse Carter nodded and called out, “Get Dr. Reynolds here as quick as you can, please.”
“Yes, Nurse Carter.”
As Nurse Carter held the gauze against Ferren’s shoulder, having to replace it every few seconds, Ferren expected to feel light-headed and woozy, bleeding as profusely as she was, but she didn't. She felt fine. She only felt the pressure of Nurse Carter’s palm against her skin, and heard a loud drumming in her ears.
After what felt like forever, Mike rushed over to her and his eyes widened.
“What did you do?” he scolded Ferren.
“Nothing, I was just checking a patient’s file,” Ferren responded.
Mike raised an apprehensive eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes.
“Ask Nurse Carter if you don’t believe me,” Ferren said defensively.
“Did you give her anything?” Mike asked as he took over from Nurse Carter.
“No, Dr. Reynolds. She just started bleeding out of nowhere,” Nurse Carter answered.
Mike removed the gauze and looked at Ferren’s wound with a perplexed expression. “What the hell? I closed all this last week. How did it open? Did you rip your stitches?”
“No, I don’t know. They were stinging the whole day today. They were still there this morning, you checked,” Ferren answered. “I don't know what to tell you, Mike.”
Mike glared at her and studied her eyes. “Nurse Carter, get me some sutures, please.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“How are you feeling, Ferren? Dizzy, light-hea
ded, ready to faint?” Mike asked, keeping the pressure on her wound.
“No, nothing. I just feel...” her voice trailed off and Mike raised his eyebrows expectantly, “...hungry.”
“Hungry?” Mike repeated and Ferren nodded. “Trust you to think about food while you’re possibly bleeding to death.”
“If this is what bleeding to death feels like, then I was wrong my entire life,” she sang.
Nurse Carter handed him the suture kit, and within a few minutes, Mike had closed her wound again.
“That’s weird,” he muttered.
“What is?”
“You didn't even flinch. Not even a little bit.”
“It didn't hurt.”
He frowned heavily as he covered it with a thick bandage and handed the bloodstained tray back to Nurse Carter.
“There you go. That should stay in.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
“Maybe you should go home. I’ll talk to Lewis. He might just—”
“Don’t bother.” A voice came from the door and both Ferren and Mike turned in that direction.
Lewis Greyson was the chief of staff of the hospital, but resembled Santa Claus more than anything, minus the long beard. With his silver hair and mustache, pink cheeks and round belly, he was the least threatening-looking person in the most threatening position.
“Lewis,” Ferren greeted him simply.
“I just witnessed that whole thing.” Lewis motioned to the area around Mike and Ferren in his usual dry manner. “Nice suture job, Mike.”
“Thank you,” Mike smirked.
“Ferren, you’re going home,” Lewis ordered.
“No, I’d rather not,” she contended.
“That wasn’t a request,” Lewis grumbled.
“But what if I start bleeding again?”
“Mephyton should do it,” Lewis pointed out nonchalantly.
“You’re telling me to eat my green veggies when I start bleeding?” Ferren exclaimed.
“Yes, now go home. I’ve arranged for two weeks off. If you need more, let me know,” Lewis responded and gave her a dismissive nod as he left.
Ferren’s jaw dropped and she turned to Mike.
“Don’t worry. I’ll come to check on you when my shift is over,” Mike murmured and touched her other shoulder. “Okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” she sighed and slid off the examination bed.
“Please don’t hit anything again or climb out the car and get attacked by a wolf again.”
“No way. Next time, I’m stepping on the gas if I hit something,” she scoffed.
“That’s the spirit,” Mike smiled wryly.
“I’ll see you later.”
Mike winked at her and she quickly left the hospital before Lewis had her forcibly removed from the building.
As soon as she arrived home, she stripped off her bloodied clothes and took a shower, being careful not to rip her stitches. She didn't really understand why or how her stitches had come out. Maybe she did unknowingly rip them but surely she would have felt it, or felt anything, for that matter. She didn't consider herself a badass who could handle a whole lot of pain—she was a wimp, actually—and would normally be in agony if she had such an injury.
She slipped a comfortable t-shirt on along with a pair of sleeping pants with little green clovers on them, careful not to rip her stitches which would require Mike to come to give her a check-up. That was exactly what she didn't want him to do. She was fine, or at least that was what she kept telling him, and herself.
She climbed into bed, took a couple of tablets to numb the pain that she was pretty sure would follow soon, and turned off the light. It was still relatively light in her room and as she glanced out the window, she noticed the shades were slightly open and the full moon shone like a bright streetlight, casting rays of luminescence into her bedroom.
It didn't bother her much, as she had been a lover of the moon since she was a little girl. She and her father regularly watched the moon from the roof of their house, much to her mother’s disapproval, of course. Ferren and her father would spend hours up on the roof and that was probably the thing she missed most about not living with them anymore. She would often climb onto the roof of her house, but never in the winter. It was just too damn cold, regardless of whether or not she was used to the freezing temperatures.
Plus, it wasn't the same without her father.
He’d tell her about the universe, the myths of the constellations, and point out the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia, which was her favorite.
A sad smile ran across her lips as she felt a sadness crash over her. It was as if she felt the distance between herself and her father, and that simply added to the lonely state she was feeling at that moment.
She pulled her blanket over her up to her face and closed her eyes.
Ferren wasn't sure how long she had been asleep, or if she had slept at all, but a searing pain in her shoulder woke her up abruptly and she cried out in pain. Her body jerked up into a sitting position and she switched the light back on. She looked down at her shoulder and swore to herself that she didn't do anything to aggravate it. She also expected it to be bleeding again, but as she pulled the neck of her t-shirt away, peeling the bandage off with her other hand, her eyes widened.
There was nothing.
She shot out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. She stared wide-eyed at her reflection as she ran her fingers along the smooth skin, not a trace of a wound or injury to be found. There was nothing. No scar, not even a scratch or a bruise.
Nothing.
“How is this possible?” she muttered and noticed the pill dispenser that stood on the sink, studying it for a moment. “What the heck did you give me, Mike?”
She pulled her shirt away again and stared at her skin. Her mind was in a complete whirl as she returned to her bedroom and sat down on her bed, staring blankly in front of her. For the first time in her life, she had no idea how this could have been possible. As a medical professional, there was a certain code of beliefs that one had to follow, or at least she did. Some things were possible, and some things weren't. It was possible for someone to be medically dead and then come back to life; it was possible for a tumor to go unnoticed by scans or MRIs. What was not possible was to have had a gaping hole in her shoulder which bled at random moments and then just magically disappeared without warning.
She gasped as she remembered the searing pain every time it either started to bleed, or when it suddenly healed. Was that the trick? Even if it was, something was not right here. Things like this didn't just happen—there must be a reason for this, or some sort of explanation.
There’s always an explanation for everything.
A loud drumming erupted in her ears and she painfully winced. It grew so intense that her vision became blurred and the room spun around her.
“Holy crap,” she growled, her voice sounding hoarse.
The drumming grew louder and the burning pain erupted once again not only in her shoulder, but throughout her entire body. It felt as though she was about to combust into a million tiny bits of glowing ember.
Spontaneous human combustion was a thing, right?
Ferren slid off the bed, having no control over her body, and landed in a heap on the floor. The world spun faster until Ferren couldn’t take it any longer and she passed out, giving in to the darkness that had been following her around for the last week. She tried to deny its existence, but its ever-looming presence was simply too overwhelming to ignore.
Now it wrapped its sharp claws around her.
It finally had her.
Ferren opened her eyes weakly as the bright rays of the sun shone directly on her face and she groaned. As her eyes focused, she realized that she was in her bed and no longer on the floor. She had no recollection of what had happened last night, or how she had ended up back on her bed, but she didn't care. She lay in her bed for a few minutes wondering what was going on with her. Her body ached, which she assumed was normal, as she
wasn’t sure how long she had spent passed out on the floor.
She sat upright and glanced down at her shoulder. The bright red color that stained her shirt made her jump slightly and she threw the blanket off her. There were blood stains all over her clothes and on her hands and arms.
“What the...” she gasped and climbed out of bed. “What happened?”
She rushed to the bathroom and turned to herself in the long mirror, taking in the horror-movie-worthy reflection. She was covered in blood, which had dried on her skin, and her hair called to mind the wild nights of rough sex when she was in college. She stepped forward, and pulling the neck of her t-shirt to the side, gasped again.
She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, and she shook her head. “This is not possible.”
She had not imagined or dreamed that her injuries miraculously disappeared. It really did happen, and Ferren was dumbstruck. There was no way that this was real, but what alternative was there? Her gruesome injury had healed overnight, although she woke up covered in blood the following morning having no recollection of what had happened the night before.
A more important question would be, whose blood was it? She didn't have any other injuries or cuts or anything. In fact, her skin was perfectly clear. She stepped back, taking in her reflection and gasping when she realized how different she looked. Her copper hair was brighter and shinier than she had ever seen it, her blue eyes were bright and alluring, like the water in Santorini.
“What happened to me?” she muttered to herself.
A sound behind her made her jump, and she whirled around. She secretly hoped she didn't go out and pick up a stranger and bite him or something.
That would explain the blood.
Maybe it was Mike, who came for his late night ‘check-up.’ Did he sleep over? Did she even allow that? Even though Mike had hinted many times that he would like to spend the night, Ferren had never allowed it, and if by chance they fell asleep, Mike knew he had to be gone by the time she woke up.
Thinking about it now, Ferren felt like a real bitch, even though that had been the official arrangement between them. Mike knew that.
