Alpha's surrogate wife

#Chapter 3 - Be saved

My captures slam the doors to the boot of the truck and briskly make their way to the front. Climbing in, they speed off, and I struggle to stay awake. I can hear snippets of their conversation.

“Did you see that?! He almost shot my ass off!”

“You?! My head was almost left in the street with a bullet lodged in it!”

They’re panicked, and it makes their driving erratic. My cage shakes back and forth, hitting the walls of the truck, making me dizzier than the drugs. They laugh, almost giddy at the prospect of getting away until the truck jerks forward.

“What the hell is that?!” one shouts.

The windows of the truck are painted with chipping paint, but I can make out several black cars speeding through the dim streetlights.

Gammas

 Modified black Bentleys are their signature. They are sturdy, and almost impenetrable, with bulletproof glass and a coat as sleek as black licorice. They surround the truck and bullets soar through the air from all around us. My captors roll down the windows and fire back, but it is useless; there are too many gammas.

I hear a loud pop and a hiss in front of me. The driver slumps forward and his head hits the wheel, causing a blare from the horn. I don’t need to see his eyes to know he’s dead.

“s**t! Grab the wheel! They shot the tires!”

The truck careens down the street, swerving wildly, leaving fragments of light as the rims connect with the road. My head smacks against the bars of the cage, stunning me.

“He’s going to ram us!”

From the side window of the truck, I watch in horror as a Bentley charges directly at us. The screech of its tires halts as the car collides. There is a deafening silence around me. Wide eyes and bloodied faces tattoo themselves in my vision as the truck flips into the air. Ada shrinks inside of me. She knows what I know; we’re going to die.

The doors of the boot of the truck fly open.

“Ahh!” I scream as my cage tumbles through them. It lands hard on the ground just inches from the overturned vehicle. Groans come from the inside of the truck, matching the ones that come from my mouth. I may be alive because of my cage, but my entire body is sore.

Through the smoke of the truck's busted engines, I can see the surviving traffickers exiting. Black Bentley car doors swing open, and gammas exit, and the two groups approach one another, prepared to finish the fight.

A raspy bay freezes everyone in place. Thunder bellows again, followed by a violent jolt of lighting that crackles right above. The piercing light momentarily blinds me, but when it passes, my jaw drops at the sight of a magnificent, enormous, golden wolf that stands in the middle. Its teeth are bared, dripping saliva that seems to sear the tar as it growls lethally.

It lunges at the traffickers and locks its massive jaws around one’s neck and squeezes. His eyes bulge from his head and start to bleed. Bones crack under the wolf’s teeth as it strangles the man in his own blood. Tearing his head from his shoulders, the wolf hurls it from its mouth.

Fear covers the traffickers’ faces, but it is too late. They won’t be leaving alive. My breathing hastens, and my heart hammers in my ears. The attack is brutal. Flesh and bones rip through the air and hit the ground in a splat. Screams silent as the gargling of blood drowns them out. 

I don’t want to see, but I can’t look away. The drugs coursing through my veins forces me to lean on the bars of the cage to keep steady. The gammas maintain their stance and watch as the blood bath unfolds.

A thud against my cage makes me look down, and I want to vomit. The lifeless eyes of the man's decapitated head seem to plead with me, and the world blackens around me.

“…I don’t want anything like that on my streets again…”

I can hear the murmurs of a conversation around me. My head is pounding, but I force my eyes open. My skin sticks to the slickness of the cage. I’m in human form.

“What happened?”

I squint my eyes, trying to remember, and then I cover my mouth. Screams, blood, and flesh…I remember.

I’m no longer on the street.

Where am I?

I peer around the room. It is vast and organized with gold walls and a wraparound books case that seems to hold any book a person could ever want. There is a large wooden desk with a dim lamp that displays a few scattered papers on top. A scarlet rug with gold lacing covers the floor all the way to the arching mantel that holds a crackling fire in the fireplace.

The room is beautiful and warm from the blazing fire that crackles in the fireplace, but cold from the dark aura that surrounds it. The same burley voice sounds in the opposite corner.

“Has the threat been neutralized?” Ansel asks. He leans back on the black leather couch and listens intensely to his men, and I realize they're talking about the fates of the wolf dealers. I tune in more intently.

“Clean the streets of the blood and c*****e before morning,” he ordered.

Ansel adjusts the fit of his suit jacket, and my mouth dries. He’s not the same person I knew all those years ago. There is no trace of the tender, frail, sick boy I rejected. Instead, on the couch sat a man whose power and dominance exuded from him, whether or not he spoke.

He now wore his blond hair short and raked to the back, showing more of his ocean blue eyes. His clothes were without a doubt expensive and vintage, and their tailored fit failed miserably at hiding the taunt muscles of his frame. He’s sitting, but it was clear he towered over most in the room.

His chiseled jaw—covered with slight stubble—gave him a slightly rugged appearance, while his perfect ivory skin and sardonic smirk made him look like he was hand crafted by both God and the devil.

He’s perfect. His confidence is alluring, but what’s more attractive is the clear respect his men have for him.

“…that’s a pretty dark joke, boss,” I catch one of the men saying, though he’s grinning.

Ansel chuckles. “Perhaps, but they should consider themselves lucky. Their deaths pale compared to the darkness I plan to inflict on the ones we kept alive.”

They laugh at the joke, but I find it terrifying. The harsh, nonchalant way he talks about torture and death makes my blood run cold.

Ada paces inside of me, and I close my eyes and breathe in deeply to ward her off. When I open them, I glance at Ansel again and contain a gasp when he turns his face and makes eye contact with me. He knows I’ve been staring, maybe even before this moment.

His jaw twitches, and his face contorts into a stony expression.

“Demolish the building and lay the dealers’ bodies in the rubble. I want anyone who attempts to disobey the rules of Blue Moon to see what consequences will follow.” His icy stare remains trained on me, and I know his words are not just for his men. Fear bubbles inside me as his eyes grow darker by the second.

“What is he going to do to us?” Ada whimpers.

“I-I don’t know.”