In The Alley
944 Words
Aria’s POV
I blinked, my eyes struggling to focus in the oppressive darkness of the alley. My head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind my temples like a trapped bird beating against a cage.
I tried to push myself up, but my hands skidded on something slick. I looked down, and my breath hitched in my throat. My clothes were shredded, stained dark with dried, crusty blood.
The gala. The music. The laughter.
The way Noah and Cassian had looked at me, like I was a prize they’d finally captured. I remembered the heat rising in my blood, the golden agony of the mark on my neck, and then… nothing.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, piercing ringing shattered inside my skull. I gasped, clutching my ears, but the sound only grew louder, a thousand layered whispers hidden beneath the screeching frequency.
"No," I hissed, my voice rasping and foreign to my own ears.
I stumbled to my feet, my legs feeling like lead. I had to get away.
I felt the cold now, a damp, biting chill that seeped into my marrow. Then came the smell: copper, metallic and sharp.
The brothers.
They were monsters who looked at me like I was property. I needed to find Maeve. My cousin. She was the only family I had left, the only person who knew what it was like to be an outsider in this brutal world of wolves.
If I could reach her, maybe I could disappear.
But then, the memories came back.
Maeve’s cold, calculating eyes on me. She had betrayed me. She had handed me over like a lamb to the slaughter. If I went to her, I wouldn't be going for safety.
"Who's there?" A strange voice came from behind me.
I spun around, my heart hammering. Staring at me was a dirty-looking stranger, though I couldn't tell who was dirtier at that point, him or me.
"You lost, little girl?" he asked calmly, his eyes roaming over my torn dress as he slowly walked toward me. "You look pretty."
He stepped closer, his scent hitting me, a foul mix of stale beer and unwashed skin. He stopped short when his eyes landed on the dried blood on my clothes, and his expression shifted. He didn't look afraid; he looked intrigued. He smiled a wicked, yellowed grin.
"You must be a tough one," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "I like 'em tough."
I stood still, my mind racing, trying to recollect everything that had happened to me up until that point. But my mind was a blank slate, a wall of white noise.
"Where am I?" I asked, taking a shaky step back.
"Don't worry, baby. You're safe here. I'm going to take care of you." His voice turned cruel as he reached out. His hand moved toward my neck, where the mark had been, his fingers grazing my skin before sliding lower toward my breast.
"Don't touch me!" I screamed, shoving him off with a strength that surprised even me.
I turned and ran, my heels clicking frantically against the pavement. But as I reached the mouth of the alley, more figures stepped out of the shadows.
Four of them.
They smelled worse than the first, their eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger that had nothing to do with wolves and everything to do with being human monsters.
I was cornered. My back hit the cold brick, and the world began to vibrate.
A sudden, sharp stab of pain came at the base of my neck and my chest, right where the golden mark had once burned. It felt like a piece of glass being driven into my spine. My vision blurred, turning ink-black at the edges.
"Look at her eyes," one of the men whispered, his voice trembling. "They're… they're turning black."
That was the last thing I remembered before I blacked out.
*
*
*
I woke up more confused than before.
The first thing I noticed was the silence. The ringing was gone. I was lying in a pool of blood, but it wasn't mine. It was too much, too warm.
I sat up, a strangled cry escaping my throat. I wasn't alone. Scattered around me in the narrow alley were the hoodlums. Or what was left of them. Limbs were separated from joints, and the walls were painted in a gruesome spray of red.
I didn't know what was happening to me. I didn't know how I had done this. I looked at my hands; they were clean, but the shadows around my fingers seemed to pulse, as if they were alive.
I had a choice. I could run, disappear into the city, and try to hunt down the truth about Maeve. Or, I could follow the scent that was now calling to me like a beacon.
I needed answers. I had to find the brothers.
They were the ones who had secrets about the mark. They were the ones who knew what I was becoming.
If I wanted to know what I was, I had to go back into the lion’s den.
I wasn't coming back to the estate as their mate. I wasn't coming back as their captive. I was coming back for answers. And God help them if the truth was something they wanted to keep hidden.
The streetlights flickered as I passed, dying one by one, as if the darkness in my soul was finally hungry enough to swallow the light.
- Writer
