CHAPTER 4
1510 Words
ANNIE THORNE
The weapon in Luca’s hands points straight at the leader of the Red Pack.
“Get out of my house,” Luca snarls. “Now.”
Behind the man, more shadows move. Other werewolves. Strong. Armed. The tension in the air is sharp, like electricity about to explode.
“We’re taking the girl,” the leader insists, stepping forward.
“You won’t lay a hand on her,” Luca threatens. “If you try... I’ll kill you.”
“You’re losing power, Blackwood. This marriage scares no one.”
“You should be afraid. Of me.”
Then everything happens too fast.
The man lunges.
Luca fires.
The gunshot echoes through the mansion.
I scream as the other werewolves attack. One runs toward me.
I try to escape, but he grabs my arm roughly, pulling me with brutality. I struggle with all my strength, hands pushing at his chest, nails scratching, but he doesn’t let go.
“Let me go!” I scream, desperate.
He laughs, a filthy laugh, and tries to lift me, but I respond. With my knee, I strike between his legs. He howls in pain, and for a moment I think he might let go. But instead, he slaps me across the face with such force my world spins.
Before I can fall, I see a silhouette. Luca. A clean punch to the man’s face. So strong the sound is sharp. The attacker staggers and releases me. I fall to the floor, gasping, cheek burning.
“Run!” Luca shouts, eyes on me.
And I run.
I rush through the front door, feeling the cold night wind slice my skin. Snow covers the mansion’s garden, and my feet sink into it as I flee without looking back. My dress is torn, wet, stained with blood and mud. But I run.
I dash through the forest, branches scratching my arms, the icy air cutting my lungs. Behind me, I hear gunshots. Many. Screams. Growls.
Is he dead?
Is Luca dead?
The thought pounds in my mind as I run faster, tears freezing on my face. He stayed to protect me. Even hating me, even saying he didn’t want me... he stayed.
My parents’ house appears like a ghost among the trees. I pound on the door, crying, struggling to breathe.
Mom opens it, her face in panic.
“Annie?! My God, what happened?!”
“Let me in,” I beg.
They take me in. Cover me. Hug me. I sit on the couch, trembling. My face still burns from the slap. My fingers are purple from the cold. But I’m alive.
And then the door bursts open.
Luca.
He’s there. Alive.
His shirt is torn, arms covered in deep scratches, his face cut. But the blood... it’s not his.
I jump up, heart racing. He walks straight to me, eyes wild searching for something. When he stops in front of me, he holds my face with blood-stained hands, tilting my head slightly side to side.
“Did he hurt you?” he asks, voice low, hoarse, urgent.
“I’m okay,” I reply. My face still burns, but... I’m whole.
He breathes deeply, as if holding the world in his chest.
He turns to my parents. My father approaches, eyes still confused.
“What happened, Blackwood?” he asks.
Luca stares at him for a moment. Then speaks, firmly:
“They invaded. They wanted to take Annie. The Red Pack leader came personally. They want war because of our union. They don’t want two powerful bloodlines mixing.”
I stay in the kitchen, listening to it all from the doorway. I’m still trembling. I still can’t believe he’s alive. And that he protected me like I mattered. Like... I was his.
Then I hear his voice again.
“I won’t let anyone touch her. No one will touch my wife,” he says, with determination.
And something inside me shifts. Trembles. I don’t know if it’s fear, confusion, or... something more dangerous.
He appears in the kitchen doorway and stares at me.
“It’s time to go back.”
I nod. I don’t argue. I leave with him.
The mansion is in chaos. The door wide open. Windows shattered. The floor covered in blood and glass. But there are no bodies. Nothing. Neither enemies nor guards.
“Where are they?” I ask, looking around.
“I got rid of them,” he says simply. Cold. As if it were nothing.
He leads me to the bedroom. Closes the door. Looks around, then at me.
“Go to sleep. You’re safe now.”
“You’re bleeding,” I murmur, pointing to his shoulder.
He looks at his body as if only now noticing.
“It’s just a scratch.”
“That’s a werewolf claw mark, Luca,” I say, walking to the closet. I grab the first aid kit and toss it onto the bed.
“Sit.”
“I don’t need that,” he snorts.
“You will sit,” I respond, opening the kit. “Or I’ll tie you to this bed and sew your mouth shut too.”
He stares at me, surprised. Then releases a hoarse and tired laugh.
“You really are a headache.”
“Yeah,” I answer. “And now I’m your wife.”
He sits down, grumbling. And I start to tend to him, even though I’m trembling inside.
But, for some strange reason, I feel... safe.
Even beside the boy who always hated me.
The silence in the room drives me crazy. All I hear is Luca’s heavy breathing and the storm outside.
The snow pounds against the windows fiercely.
He sits at the edge of the bed, the torn shirt hanging off his shoulder, dried blood stuck to his tanned skin.
I kneel before him with the first aid kit open, soaking gauze in antiseptic. The wound is ugly—deep cuts, exposed flesh, as if another monster tried to tear him apart.
“This will burn,” I warn, even without much compassion.
“I’ve felt worse,” he replies, with that deep, hoarse voice, heavy with exhaustion and brutality.
I begin to clean the blood slowly, watching his muscles twitch. His jaw tight, eyes fixed on mine. Even hurt, Luca still exudes power. He feels like a wounded beast—dangerous, unpredictable, lethal. As if I should fear him... but I can’t.
“You can’t be weak all the time, Annie,” he says, slicing through the silence like a blade. “You’re going to have to learn to fight. Like a real werewolf.”
I feel anger rising, boiling inside me. I throw the soiled gauze on the floor and step back, feeling my body shake.
“Oh, so that’s it? I’m just a porcelain doll to you?”
“You almost died today because you don’t know how to defend yourself.”
I jump to my feet, blood boiling. “I survived! You told me to run, and I did! Does that make me weak?”
He stares at me for what seems like forever. Then, without a word, he reaches out and grabs my hand firmly.
“You shouldn’t be the one taking care of me,” he says, voice low, deep. “You should be in bed. Waiting for me.”
The crack is loud. My fist connects sharply with his face. I don’t think, I just act.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t retaliate. Stands frozen, face turned away, eyes closed. And then, slowly, he turns back to me... and smiles.
A crooked, satisfied smile.
“There you are,” he whispers. “A true werewolf.”
My anger burns. I step forward and cup his face with both hands, fingers pressing into his skin, forcing him to look at me.
“You’re an i***t, Luca.”
“Maybe.” His smile widens. “But now you’ve shown me you have more strength than you think.”
He stands. His shadow looms over me. His presence is suffocating, wild. The shoulder bleeding again, but he seems unfazed.
“If you dare hit me again…” he says, voice low like thunder about to burst, “you’ll get what you deserve.”
“What are you going to do?” I reply, staring at him without flinching.
He smiles. A smile full of teeth and... desire.
In one swift move, he pushes me against the bed. My breath leaves my lungs, but before I can react, his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is brutal. Wild. An attack.
His hand clamps around my waist tightly, as if he wants to hold me captive.
And, for some insane reason, I like it. I like the way he kisses me like I belong to him. Like I’m the only thing left in this wrecked world.
His hands trail down my body to the dirty fabric of the dress. He rips it with a single pull.
The sound of tearing fabric echoes through the room.
“You’re mine now, little girl...”
- Writer
