Lone Wolf (The Wulf Pack Book 1)

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Chapter Three

Willow stifled a yawn as she dumped the last bin of bottles down the chute to the recycling. She was glad she only had to take the garbage to the back and not the one hundred or so bottles each night.

She listened to them clank against each other down to the metal chute before tumbling into the metal bin below.

Turning she dried her hands on her smock and glanced around, taking in the smell of pine that now consumed the bar. Everything in the public area was cleaned, the floor was mopped, the dishes cleaned, even the kitchen had been given its nightly scrubbing. Last but not least... she turned to the bags of garbage next to the back door. It was definitely her least favorite part of the night.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for two of the four-foot tall bags, well maybe not that tall, but they sure felt like that to a girl of only five foot. She managed to pop the back door open with a small bump and headed into the small alley.

Willow glanced around her, checking the tree line for any danger and internally growled at the handy-cap she had; one that left her weaker than other wolves.

She froze, half way to the dumpster, as a scuffling noise came from down the alley.

She knew no one should be out here. It was too late for partiers and too early for most workers.

"Hello sweetheart,” the voice instantly sent a chill over her. The bags dropped from her hands, but she didn’t even realize, her only focus was on the Rouge before her.

Before she could blink, he had covered the distance between her and where he stepped out next to the dumpster. His had covered her mouth, as the other snaked around her waist, pulling her close.

Her nose twitched as she caught a whiff of his scent and whatever he was covered in that made him smell so foul.

"You truly are a pretty one,” he whispered into her ear as he leaned down, inhaling at her neck, She nearly gagged at the smell of his breath. She could truly smell him now, and he smelled of rotting flesh and something bitter, she couldn’t name.

Fear froze all thought as she felt his sharp claws against her hip. Her eyes widened and a whimper escaped as she realized what was going to happen. ”Your pack really shouldn’t let you stray, someone like me could come and take you,” his claw dug into her hip and ripped, pulling blood and fabric as sliced down her thigh.

Instinctually her leg shot up, but he blocked it with one of his and tisked, shaking his head at her attempt.

She bit down on the palm of his hand, tasting blood she gagged again as it entered her mouth and coated her lips.

"You little bitch,” he pulled his hand away with a hiss. He only glanced at a moment before turning those feral black eyes on her. His hand struck her hard causing her vision to bluer.

She could feel the hot tears streaming down her face as she was overcome by fear. She couldn’t go anywhere. He would chase her down and kill her; she had known that the moment he had stepped out of the shadows.

"You are going to behave, and maybe I will let you live,” he gripped her neck with his uninjured hand, his bloody claws digging into the soft tissue, drawing more blood. His other hand slid to her him and pulled on the waist of her pants, they slid easily as the slit opposite it widened to accommodate.

“No,” a voice came from behind them, or above them, or in Willows head, she wasn’t sure, “You are going to let her go, and MAYBE, I will let YOU live,” the man before her cackled with pleasure as his gripped on her throat tightened.

“Even better,” Willow wasn’t sure if someone responded, her mind was going fuzzy as her blood pounded in her ears.

The darkness behind her eyelids sparked with color, white electricity leaving behind static fuzz, like that of an old T.V. without reception.

The pain in her chest tightened so tightly that she thought her lungs had dried up like raisins. The pain in her head began to buzz like it had fallen asleep.

Then everything went black.


The twisted look in the Rouge’s eyes caused a knot in Rage’s stomach. He felt sick as he watched the man drop the girl and the grin only seemed to grow the longer he looked at Talon.

He glanced over at the girl on the ground before the Rouge’s feet and felt a bit relived as he watched her ribs expanded as she breathed. The mutt hadn’t killed her.

He scolded himself as he glanced back up. He should not have tried to sneak behind him through the trees. He should have known that he might miss the moment the mutt had been waiting for.

He watched as the man before him was nearly foaming at the mouth as his fingers began to elongate with a shift. His teeth began to sharpen and Rage knew this was going to be an easy fight.

“Are we going to fight or are you going to stand there and drool at me,” he said smoothly. He wanted him to shift. It was easier to fight a raged wolf.

“How dare you!” he growled in response, it was barely words at this point, his muzzle having nearly fully extended.

“How dare I?” a smirk grew on Rage’s face as he watched the man shake with the change, “you are nothing more than a Bastard mutt that was probably abandoned by his maker for being too weak,” the wolfs eyes shifted black before his body changed and he lunged at Rage.

He easily grabbed the rogue by the neck before he could even reach him, and pulled the snarling face in front of him.

“I am not scared of you mutt, and I want you to die knowing that,” fear flashed in the wolf’s eyes causing Rage to smirk again. With one swift twist, he used the rouges body weight and broke his neck.

He let him drop to the ground, just as he had done to the she-wolf who was still lying on the cement not far from him.

He walked over to her and lifted her. A thought crossed his mind about bringing her back to her pack, but he thought better of it. He had no idea if she was rouge as well, or just liked sneaking away.

He watched her shift in his arms, her brown hair falling into her face as her cheek made contact with his chest. He let out a deep breath. For the first time in months, he felt like he didn’t want to be alone.

He gripped her tighter and looked over at the now dead man on the ground. His head was turned at an odd angle and Rage knew, with a deep rooted pleasure, that he man would never live another day of his miserable life.

Deciding that he wouldn’t risk her possible rouge status, he headed towards the motel. He would let her sleep, somewhere safe and when she woke up, he would figure out what he was going to do with her.

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