Talons

Chapter 54: The Intruder

Rhea’s POV

It is officially spring break, and I couldn’t get out of the dorms fast enough. Since Raven and I each have our own means of transportation, I no longer have to wait for her, which is good because she told me she has to work late today.

Raven has technically finished school, so the pack cannot give her an allowance, meaning she has to support herself, and truthfully, it seems to be making her a better person. There is nothing more humbling than a hard day’s work, and that’s not to say that my sister was ever lazy, but she was definitely the type to shuck dish duty to me whenever she saw fit.

I’m staying with my grandparents again, and the room that is unofficially mine has been converted to a safe zone within the cabin. There is a crib next to my bed, a nice fluffy rug on the floor, and it’s filled with everything I will need to care for an infant over the course of two weeks. 

I’m beyond excited and my grandparents are also incredibly happy with the arrangement. Having a great grandchild is like a dream come true for them, especially because the mortality rate for wolves is pretty high.

The pack is in an alliance, so territory disputes that lead to war isn’t an issue, but when my grandparents were my age, it was a very real thing. The only problem we occasionally have now are rogues, and they tend to play the outskirts of the territory.

Contrary to popular belief, rogue wolves do not immediately go mad. It takes time, and for those that want to hold onto some sense of their sanity, they try to remain as close to their kind as possible. 

We call packs that are made up of rogues ‘colonies.’ They are mostly nonviolent, and if anyone within their group starts to slip off the deep end, they tend to eliminate the threat themselves pretty quickly.

As harmless as they may sound, they are still unsafe to be around, and while my brother’s pack does not execute rogues who form colonies within our territory, he does not allow them to stay.

Any wolf who has been condemned to the life of a rogue with a relatively clean background can join another pack. Those who choose not to usually have something to hide, and more often than not, that something is a crime causing serious injury or against the pack they were ejected from.

Days go by, and my nephew and I are having the time of our lives, well at least I am. He mostly sleeps in the bouncy vibrating thingy while I read to him, study, or go over harvest notes.

Emma calls three times a day, and she checks in on us once in the morning and once before bed. She and Lark seem to have needed the break, not that there was any distance between them, but I’m sure having a new baby hasn’t been good for their s*x life.

Emma doesn’t like to leave Ducky with anyone who isn’t related to him. Her behavior is a type of postpartum symptom that she-wolves sometimes develop. It can even present against family members, but Emma isn’t that bad, and she will get better as her hormones regulate themselves. 

I start reading some of the plans to compost the fields when I hear footsteps that do not sound like anyone who should be inside of the cabin right now. Instinctively, I stand facing the door, and an unknown woman steps into view.

“Is that the alpha?” She asks in a tone that sounds friendly, but the mud she is covered in makes it seem sinister and gives her away as an intruder. The woman tries to take a step forward, but I block her path.

“What do you want?” I ask, hating that I cannot link anyone, and knowing that if I scream, I may draw more intruders into the safe room.

“They took my baby. Can I hold him?” She tries to dart past me, but I react quickly, punching her in the throat as hard as I can. Braylen told me that I should only use that method of incapacitation in a life-or-death situation, and this seems pretty fitting to me.

The woman falls to the ground, struggling to breathe as her trachea spasms and I hesitate for a moment. I have never had a serious fight, but I know that I can’t let her get up for the sake of my nephew. I stomp on her stomach to force the remaining oxygen out of her lungs, and when her body thrusts forward, I snap her neck.

Luke told me that breaking an enemy's neck was the most merciful way to kill them; especially after they have been mortally wounded. I have never killed before, and although there is no blood, I find myself puking onto the ground.

Hearing another set of unfamiliar footsteps, I quickly hide Ducky in the closet, praying that it's a pack member and not another intruder, but I’m wrong. The next woman to enter sniffs the room, and I assume she is looking for my nephew, but she focuses her eyes on me.  

I know I have a hint of rogue on me when I’m not wearing the scent blocker, and I assume that she is trying to figure out why I’m in the cabin and who I am.

The woman does not make small talk, she just partially shifts and charges. At the last second, Sylvia tells me to drop. The woman doesn’t expect it, crashes into the sofa and hits the wall. I stand and kick her spine hard enough to hear it crack before grabbing a nearby lamp and breaking it over her head.

If she shifts, I’m dead, so I have to find a way to render her unconscious before snapping her neck as well. The woman writhes on the floor, and I can tell she’s trying to shift, so I pick up a piece of broken glass and stab her in the temple. 

The glass does equal damage to my hand, but it distracted her long enough for me to grab a heavier item to knock her out with. I know the woman is still alive, so I do what I was taught and sever her cervical spine.

I drag her body against the closet where I’ve hidden my nephew and wait for someone to come. I’m in the only safe room, and my grandparents haven't arrived yet. I would hate to lock them out, but if I don’t close the doors soon, I’m not sure I will be lucky enough to fight one woman at a time.

As if I could speak trouble into existence, a huge male rogue steps into the room. He is looking at me in a way that terrifies me, but I don’t flinch.

“I can smell your fear little girl,” he says as he steps forward, and I notice that he is favoring one of his legs.

I dash forward pretending I’m going after his bad leg, but instead I spear the knee of his good one. I hear the bone crack and I mentally thank the guys I tutor for the lengthy conversation they had about illegal tackles during one of our sessions.

Unlike the first two women, I know I cannot easily break the neck of the rogue who has just come in, and before I can stand up, he grabs my ankle, pulling me closer to him.

I turn my body and use my free leg to break his nose, trying to recover, but unable to break free.

Robin was right, no matter how much training I have, form goes out of the window in real combat. I know the rogue and I shouldn’t be grappling on the floor, and yet, here we are doing just that.

I also take note that he isn’t trying to seriously injure me, which is scary.

I manage to scramble away from him, and he grunts as he stands. The man weakly lunges at me, and I see that his claws are extended, but he isn’t going for my face or neck, he looks to be targeting my leg.

I remember when Colton used to trick me like that though. He used to make me think he was going to hit one area of my body but would land the blow on another. Taking it as a lesson well learned, I brace my body for impact. 

The rogue punches my rib cage, and I’m sure something is broken. I go flying across the room and before I can stand the man is straddling me. I don’t expect to survive, I just have to hold on long enough for help to come. 

By now the scent of blood must be wafting from the house, and someone is bound to show up.

“You are still so quiet,” the rogue says in an almost tender voice. He has my hands pinned on either side of my head and is using his body weight to force me to submit. “Let me rule beside you.” Confused, I start to panic, and the rogue’s teeth elongate as he eyes my marking spot. 

I use every ounce of strength I have and I’m able to push him in a way that makes him put too much weight on the knee I think I broke. He releases my hands and slaps me in anger.

I’m struggling to remain conscious, and Sylvia is screaming for me to stay awake. My vision clears and the rogue is smiling at me as his face nears my neck. At the most opportune time, Ducky makes a tiny sound, and the man looks at the closet, seeming to remember something. 

Before he can climb off me, Sylvia tells me to rip his throat out and she mentally shows me how. I grab the man's hair and pull him toward me, obviously shocking him. 

By the time he realizes that I’m not marking him, it’s too late. My teeth are already ripping at his flesh, trying to remove chunks of it until I get down to his jugular artery. I have never been more grateful to my lost sense of taste in my life. 

The rogue's nails dig deep into my arm as he tries to pull me away, but I keep biting. I know that I have exposed soft flesh, so I dig my own nails into his neck and pull. His body collapses onto mine as he drowns in his own blood.

I wiggle from underneath him, and stand, this time going to close and lock the door. I’m exhausted and I may not be able to fight anyone else.