Eclipsed Hearts

Early Morning History

[Ian]

As I started waking up, the twin weights on either of my arms moved a little. Fern’s legs wrapped around one of mine. She gripped my shirt and snuggled harder. Jaden moved similarly. We’d somehow ended up in this arrangement after Jaden and I told Fern about the hunter who came. Both of them wanted comfort. I didn’t mind.

The soft morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. As I lay there, tangled up with Fern and Jaden, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of protection. Their vulnerability in sleep mirrored my own fears and worries about the hunter.

Silently, I extricated myself from their grasp, careful not to wake them. Stepping gently over scattered toys and books, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I was used to sleeping very little and my breakfasts were important to our pack.

Even though there wasn’t enough to be considered a pack by others, I knew there was a pack bond between us. Maybe the rules were different for starting a pack than they were for a pack surviving destruction. I didn’t know. I didn’t have any contact with the established packs.

Lost in thought, I stared out of the kitchen window, watching the world wake up. The memory of meeting Mari Damson flooded my mind. I gripped my shirt over my heart, and my wolf howled in sadness, echoing the pain inside me. I wasn’t awake enough to counter the emotions there.

“Need to reject her,” I whispered to myself, knowing exactly what I needed to do to get rid of the pain.

I shook it off. We needed the bond to stand until the end of the hunt. It was the only thing keeping me from killing her, from the anger of knowing what she was. The way my heart wanted her made her too dear to me.

After getting my ѕhit together, I pulled out everything I needed to make dinner for the kids. It was a weekend, so most of them would sleep in; the older ones, at least. When I was protecting them, the youngest was a one-year-old, and the oldest was three.

They put us in one of the most secure hiding places. It wasn’t the only one, but it was the only one the hunters didn’t find. I’d checked the others.... Those were images I would never get out of my head.

When I’d found the twins, I took them back to the kids and had them watch over them, with an escape plan, while I snuck around the pack lands. The aftermath was grim - bodies strewn about, burnt buildings, shattered glass, and an eerie silence that I couldn’t shake off.

Our pack was friendly. People would call out to you as you walked down the street. Everyone knew everyone else. We were happy and felt safe. Now, I’d never feel safe again.

I went to the packhouse and dug around until I found out where the pack kept their excess money. The packhouse was one of the few buildings still standing, but there was graffiti and a lot of internal damage. Our Alpha’s hand was tossed on the floor next to the safe in his office. It looked like they took it for the biometric locks.

All the money kept in the Alpha’s office was gone, but my mom’s dad had been the last Alpha and she told me before about all the hiding places in the packhouse. The ones where they kept papers, the ones where they kept money, and the ones where she used to hide as a kid.

It was good that I knew about them, as I came across a couple of hunters in the packhouse. I was able to sneak away and hide out until I couldn’t smell them anymore. The money I collected wasn’t much, but I could get hold of the accounts the pack had.

We were a small pack and had few exports, so there wasn’t a lot. It was enough for the two properties, a vehicle, and our other expenses for a few years. I spent five years focusing only on the kids. Once they were all in school, I started trying to find work, and then I stumbled on one of the last members of the Thornwood clan of hunters.

He was staying at a nearby hotel and was drinking heavily. I overheard him as I was working as a bar back where he was drinking. He was telling anyone who would listen about how werewolves wiped out his family.

Most of the humans rolled their eyes or walked away. Some listened and asked questions. A few seemed to think it was a story or that he was delusional. They played sympathetic ear while laughing at him, and I heard everything.

Blood Moon was a pack of wolves who hunted hunters. They would go after clans, singular groups, and anyone who could be a threat to werewolves. That was when the idea first popped into my head.

If I could pretend to be a hunter, I could find out more about other hunters. I could feed that information to Blood Moon and they could take care of the monsters who went after our people. But that would mean hunting other werewolves. Could I do something so despicable?

The moral dilemma weighed heavily on my shoulders as I considered the idea. The thought of hunting my own kind, even if they were a threat, filled me with unease. But the safety of our pack, the survival of our family, was at stake. I knew sacrifices needed to be made.

I resolved to only hunt bad werewolves. The thought of it was making my heart swell a bit. I could get the revenge I desired and I could keep the kids safe.

When the bar closed, I followed the drunk, stumbling hunter as he wandered toward his hotel. He was sloppy. Part of me identified with that. If I didn’t have all those children counting on me, I would’ve done the same.

The hunter fell down after tripping over a curb. He just lay there. For a moment, I thought he’d died. Then I saw his body shaking and heard a sob come from him.

My father might have been responsible for my pack being wiped out, but seeing this broken hunter made me realize just how similar we were. Both hunting each other, killing each other, and destroying each other.

It wasn’t enough for me to let him live, though. I couldn’t take over his life if he were still alive. It didn’t seem like anyone would really miss him.

I approached the motionless hunter with caution, my heart pounding in my chest. The moonlight cast an eerie glow on his tear-streaked face, revealing the anguish and pain etched in his features. His vulnerability tugged at my conscience, but I knew I had to follow through with my plan.

Summoning every ounce of strength within me, I leaned down and placed a hand over his mouth, muffling any protests that might escape his trembling lips. His eyes widened with fear as he struggled beneath my grip, but it was futile. With a swift and decisive movement, I snapped his neck and ended his suffering.

Digging through his pockets, I found his hotel key card and memorized the name of the hotel and his room number. I picked him up and slung his arm around my shoulders, then started walking him toward the building as if he were simply dead drunk and not dead.

Deadweight was different from living weight. I managed, but it was a little more of a struggle than I thought it’d be.

When I reached the hotel, I got him into his room and tossed his body on the bed. Locking the door, I started searching through everything in his room. I found address books, files, a stack of cash, and some personal information.

That was how I found out that his name was Ianto Thornwood. It was similar enough to mine that I took it as a sign from the goddess. She’d blessed me with this opportunity. I spent most of the night learning everything I could about being a hunter, collecting his weapons, and packing up his things. I moved everything, including his body, into his car.

I took his body out to the woods and dropped him down an old shaft head first, then parked his car in the old shop at the back of our property. Over the course of a year, I took the car apart and threw away pieces in different cities and states.

The first time I got a call on Ianto’s cell for a hunt, I was nervous, but I went anyway. Apparently, most hunters didn’t really know each other outside of the clans they were in.

All those stories I used to hear about the hunter clans that worked with Oliver Sandulf and the Dark Moon Rogues weren’t accurate for most of the clans. It seemed the clans knew each other, but didn’t really know each other. None of the people on that first hunt had ever met Ianto Thornwood. They just wanted to help a hunter who lost everything.

There seemed to be honor among hunters. Of course, the monsters supported the monsters.