Chapter Seven
704 Words
Red.
Women.
She-wolves.
About twenty of them, marched to the very middle and stopped. No greeting, no acknowledgement, no nothing. Just a sea of red and nothing more - if one judged by mere appearance, that is.
Haunches raised, Flint and Ian stepped forward with some others - warriors - in a defensive stance.
“Who are you?” Flint demanded.
No response.
No reaction.
Just silence.
“I’m asking you!”
Echoes of new footsteps reverberated once again; hot in its heels a chorus of sharp gasps, and uncertain bows.
White.
The sea of red parted in the middle and the white trode on, until she stood before the sea of red. Exuding undeniable authority in thick waves. The way only a true Luna would.
“Alpa. Duncan. Wolfe.”
The eyes of Flint, Ian as well as other warriors widened in recognition; and impulsively their heads fell in respect.
An act that didn’t sit at all well with the woman in the wedding gown; nor did the tautening of Duncan’s jaw muscles tell any different.
“Does,” she began so sweetly. Too sweetly. “this look any familiar?” Hands held out to encompass the unfolding scenario. She stepped forward and smiled at the slight hesitation in the surrounding warriors.
“Why are you here?” Duncan ground out. His quivering bride stuck behind him.
She c****d her head in a taunt. “Only,” she said. “for her,” she finished leveling a finger at the quivering bride, who hid even more behind him as the warriors drew even closer.
Duncan’s eyes darkened.
Good.
Leisurely, as if in a park in the morning, Drew strolled from one end to another. “Why,” she began so succinctly. You disagree?” She turned a smile to him, an all-too-sweet smile. “An eye for an eye, Duncan.”
He growled ferociously.
“A tooth,” she said with a devilish glint in her mismatched yes and a c**k of the head. “for a tooth. A spouse,” she added matter-of-factly. “for a spouse. You massacred my guests and tore my husband apart.” Her eyes dilated. All traces of mirth and taunt vanished. “I’ll return the favour.”
Cries and gaps filled the air, and fear - emblazoned and ripe singed its membrane.
The sea of red remained stoic.
Flint met her eyes and forced all the apology and disapproval into his green eyes, and was expertly ignored.
Duncan extricated the hand of Felicita clutching at his arm and stepped forward. “This,” he ground out through grit teeth. “is your declaration of war, Drew.”
She smiled a cool one, and stepped forward. “This,” she said. “is my response to your incessant declarations of war.”
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Duncan quaked and rage burst out of him in a gigantic explosion.
He commence a half-shift.
Yet she stood, smiling down at him as if he were but a misguided child.
She arched a brow - and it began.
Every nerve thrummed with the weight of the pause, then imploded.
It was swift.
The sea of red moved like a striking cobra would and grabbed, broke and tore.
One by one Durrow’s warriors fell in a broken bloody heap. Splatters of blood washed everywhere, even Felicita”s pristine gown didn’t escape the blood wash.
Yet in the middle of it all stood Drew and Duncan.
Eyeing each other.
Weighing their mantles.
Gauging their momentum.
Waiting for the slightest movement.
Flint and Ian stood protectively before the new bride quaking in her stilettos.
Drew grinned.
Such a delectable mess.
“Is it you and I once gain?” she asked in mocking tones.
Duncan was almost gone amidst the blur of fur, teeth, growl and murderous intent.
“Oh well,” she said conversationally. “I guess it’s high time I said hello to Dexter. Oh. Hello, Dexter. Long time not much of a see.” She c****d her head at Flint and Ian. “You make ample sure you guard her well.” She smiled at Flint’s teeth set on edge.
Golden eyes narrowed at her.
It’s time to finish this, Drew.
- Writer
