#Chapter 3 - In Danger
1314 Words
Ruby
The handsome man gets out of the car and holds the door open for me. I get out nervously, avoiding his gaze after my outburst against the Lycan King, and mutter words of thanks before heading toward the house.
The handsome man clears his throat as my back is turned.
“Be careful,” he says. I stop in my tracks as I feel the hairs on the back of my neck raise. A cold wind blows through my long white hair, causing me to shiver in the autumn air. “Some say that King Atwood can teleport,” he says.
I clench my fists at my side, still not turning to look at the man, then nod and run toward the abandoned house.
As I approach the porch, I feel eyes on me, and look over my shoulder to see the man still standing outside the car, staring at me with his arms folded. Even from this distance, he looks massive. He stands several heads taller than the car. I snap my head back around, pretending that I don’t see him, and chew my lip nervously.
“Calm, Ruby, calm,” I quietly whisper to myself as I stand on the porch and pretend to fiddle with the lock; the door is already unlocked, but I figure that it is best to fake it in order to make the scenario more believable. I hadn’t anticipated anyone else being here when I arrived, but thankfully I’ve always been capable of being quick to think.
I open the door just enough to get in, then snap it shut and quickly slide the deadbolt through to lock it. I lean against the door, feeling my frantic heart practically pound out of my chest as I try to calm my breathing, then take a subtle glance out the window to see that the man is gone and the car is driving away.
I can still smell his scent, and although it smells divine, it still causes my heart to palpitate at the possibility of the man stalking me and discovering my plans.
Still, I’m running out of time. If I don’t hurry, the Lycan King’s men will be here sooner than I can make it to my sister. I have to get to work.
I begin by taking off my dress and walking around the house in my underwear, tearing the beautiful dress to shreds and tossing them on the floor. I discard my wedding accessories around the house.
I climb up the ladder to the attic and retrieve my bag with my supplies.
I quickly pull on my clothes: a pair of black cargo pants that fit close to my body, a black hoodie, and black boots. As I look at myself in the dusty mirror, I smirk to myself. My outfit is so dark that it will conceal me well. But then my face falls to a frown as I come to the realization that my long, white hair would give me away immediately.
I slide a small pocket knife out of one of my boots and choke back tears as I gather my hair into one hand and slide the knife through. I’ve never been a great beauty, but my hair has always been my most treasured thing about myself. It looks like my mother’s hair: long, down to my butt, a silvery-white color, straight and silky.
It was a ritual between Tamara and I to sit in front of our mirror at home and take turns brushing each other’s hair before bed with the silver brush my mother left us. Tamara’s hair is much different than mine: black as night and curly, like our father’s. Her hair is beautiful, too, but not as recognizable as mine so I can at least take solace in the fact that she will not have to cut it off.
I cut my hair so that it falls just below my chin, and look into the mirror with tears in my eyes as I hold the rest of my hair in my hand. It’s uneven now, but cutting it will protect my sister and I from being recognized. Maybe I will be able to get a haircut and fix it up when we get out of here.
I slide the pocket knife back into my boot, then scatter my hair around the remnants of my wedding dress.
Then, I spray myself with a scent masking agent that I just barely had time to prepare before being ripped from my home by the Lycan King’s men. This will keep them from being able to track me. Thankfully, Tamara doesn’t have a wolf scent so it will not be necessary for her. Since humans all smell the same to werewolves, it can be difficult for them to track.
Before I was taken away to the castle, I had just enough time to pour gasoline all over the house.
There is a pack of matches in my pocket. I pull it out as I head to the cellar door, and with one last glance out the window to ensure that the handsome man and his driver are gone, I throw the match to the floor and descend the stairs as the flames begin to lick up the walls and spread across the house.
Soon, the Lycan King’s men will be following my scent to this house. By the time they put out the fire, they will believe that his bride has been eaten by the flames. Tamara and I will find another pack to survive in while we hide from the Lycan King, somewhere far from his kingdom, and if no one will accept us into their pack then we will live as Rogues.
As long as my sister and I are together, I know everything will be okay.
I lift the floorboards that conceal the entrance to the tunnels out of the way and climb in, taking care to put them back in their place before I descend the ladder into the darkness.
There is no need for a flashlight. I can see in the darkness just fine, as though it’s daytime.
As I quickly make my way through the tunnel, I can feel my heart beating faster with excitement with each step closer to my sister. Although she has no scent, she is my sister, and I can sense her nearby.
I make the last turn and open the heavy steel door to the room where Tamara waits.
“Tamara, let’s-” I begin, but stop short as I look upon the horrific scene.
Tamara lays on the floor with her ankles and wrists bound as three Rogues surround her. There is blood all over the floors, blood covering the Rogues’ filthy faces and deep bites and gashes all over my beautiful sister’s body.
I scream at the Rogues, who all look up at me hungrily in unison and begin to advance on me. I try to scare them away, but it’s no use. They have me backed into a corner.
One of the Rogues grabs me by the wrists and yanks me closer to him with a maniacal grin on his animalistic face before I have a chance to fumble for my knife. I squeeze my eyes shut, ready to accept my death, but just as they are about to bite me…
I hear them all fall to the ground, one after the other.
I open my eyes to see the handsome man holding my sister. He steps toward me with Tamara in his arms, and for a moment, he looks like a god from my fairy tales: poised, elegant, and strong. He looks down at me sternly.
The driver from before stands behind the King, and it is now that I finally recognize him.
The King’s henchman, the one who I had dazed before my escape.
- Writer
