Eight years ago.
Wolf howls surrounded the small farmhouse. The sound nearly deafening, the noise so overpowering and close. I stood from the kitchen table, filled with homework papers and raced to the window.
I gasped in terror to see Alpha Milo Thatcher there, dark hair and beard black as night. Rage filled body with towering muscles, a threatening stance held toward my grandparents. Wolves of all colors surrounded the garden patch where my grandmother and grandfather worked. They ran to each other, holding a fearful embrace.
“WHERE IS SHE!?” Milo’s voice howled so booming; it even rocked the knickknacks in the bookshelf beside me.
Both grandparents pointed to me at the window.
Milo’s loud words screamed again, “Not her!”
I ran outside and watched as his screaming got louder to them. I tried to block out the words. “Stop, stop, stop!” I tried to holler over his words, but I still heard his pain.
Then he spoke the words that would forever haunt my nightmares. “Kill them.”
The wolves guarding the garden then attacked. My eyes couldn’t look away from the slaughter as my grandparents were torn apart.
“NO!” I screamed in agony. “They didn’t do anything! Please no!” I fell to my knees, wails of grief and tears spilling over immediately as their redness spilled into the soil.
A grey wolf turned to me, jaws snapping and razor teeth bared. I welcomed the sight. I wouldn’t be able to live without my grandparents. How does a sixteen year old girl live alone?
Alpha Milo Thatcher was then between us, black eyes glaring like onyx orbs down to me. “You better keep our secret girl! If you ever tell our secret, then your punishment is next!”
The fear swallowed me into the ground. This man would kill me with one snap of his fingers.
I would keep his secret.
I would never tell a soul that werewolves exist.