All My Friends
919 Words
Montserrat was dreaming. Or, at least, she thought she was.
She was walking through the woods. It felt peaceful… until it didn’t.
She looked up—stars. Beautiful. Then suddenly—boom—blinding sunlight.
What?
Two people appeared ahead. Wait—what? Who?
As she got closer, one of them turned.
David.
Bleeding. So much blood, stomach was soaked in red.
“You did this to me!” he screamed, suddenly sprinting at her.
“Wait—what?!” Montserrat stumbled back, confused, arms flailing—and then his hands were around her throat.
She kicked. She screamed. What the actual hell is going on?!
Then—nothing.
Gone. Just—gone.
Montserrat jerked awake, breath shallow, eyes wide.
Her room. She was in her room. Thank the goddess.
She ran a hand through her tangled hair and grabbed her phone—7:45 A.M.
Seriously?
Still dazed, she shuffled into the bathroom, threw on clothes, and washed her face like she was trying to scrub the dream off her skin. Back in her room, she found socks that didn’t match and old sneakers she didn’t even remember still owning.
Downstairs. Right turn. Dining room.
Of course. Everyone was already seated. Great.
“Morning,” Montserrat muttered, flopping into a chair.
“Good morning, love,” Jairo said with a smile that felt too cheerful for her current mental state.
A couple of omegas came in carrying trays. Montserrat half-whispered a “thank you” as they lined up against the wall like statues.
“We’ll clean up,” Montserrat said casually. “You guys can go.”
They glanced at each other and nodded, silently exiting.
“You can’t just dismiss them like that!” came a sharp, annoying voice.
Montserrat rolled her eyes. Of course. The Luna of Europa Pack. Perfect.
“Watch me,” Montserrat said flatly, offering a dry smirk. “They’re not furniture. Or slaves. And honestly? ‘Omega’ sounds like a title someone made up to feel superior. We're not doing that.”
“Montserrat, please—don’t start,” Laura groaned. “It’s too early for your speeches.”
Yeah, well, it’s never too early for basic respect, Montserrat thought but chose silence and eggs instead.
Paloma wandered in mid-yawn. “Good morning,” she mumbled, catching the heavy air in the room as she walked into a storm cloud.
Montserrat focused on her food, pretending she didn’t notice Jairo sneaking glances at Laura like they were in some awkward teenage love story.
Fork down. Chair back. She was done.
No one stopped her as she left.
Outside, Montserrat walked. Then jogged. Then ran. Hard.
Where was she even going? No idea. Just—away.
Branches blurred past her. She slowed, chest rising and falling fast, when.
Wait. That smell.
Rogues?
She froze. The scent was all over the place—twisting like it had no clear direction. Then, gone.
Probably the edge of the territory. That’s probably why it smelled off.
She turned to head back. Then a growl.
“Oh, come on,” she muttered.
From the trees came a mahogany wolf, eyes locked on her, radiating fury. She backed away slowly, not blinking.
Another growl. Then—bam—a light brown wolf and a gray wolf appeared, defensive and ready to throw down.
Dean? Montserrat called out through the mind link. Nothing.
Dean?? Again, silence.
Of course. Of course, no one was answering. Classic.
Then, another growl—closer, behind her. She turned.
Brian. The honey-colored wolf. Relief hit her like a wave.
“Brian,” she said aloud.
He nodded and stepped in front of her, snarling at the mahogany wolf.
And then it happened.
The mahogany wolf lunged—straight for Brian.
Montserrat screamed as Brian was knocked down, the rogue's jaws clamping around his neck. The look in the mahogany wolf’s eyes sent chills through her. He was enjoying it.
Flashbacks crashed into her—Mario. That same helpless horror.
No. Not again.
She grabbed a fallen tree branch, hands shaking, and jammed it into the rogue’s side. Not deep, but enough.
Brian dropped. Bleeding.
“Dammit, Brian,” Montserrat hissed, pressing on his wound. “You’re not allowed to die. Not today.”
His breath was shallow, his fur sticky with blood. Her hands were shaking as she pressed down harder.
Growling behind her. She turned—gray and light brown wolves jumped the rogue again, stopping him from charging her a second time.
Dad! she called out through the pack link, panic cutting through her voice like a blade.
Still no answer.
Where are you? came a voice.
East side—hurry! she replied, desperation creeping in.
Wolves came tearing through the trees—six of them. Marco and Felix are among them.
“Help me,” she pleaded, trying to lift Brian.
Marco lowered himself. Together, they got Brian onto his back. He took off, racing ahead.
Felix nudged her gently. She nodded and followed, her legs moving but her mind spiraling.
Mario. Brian. Is it always going to be like this?
The forest thinned as the packhouse came into view. And standing outside—
Jairo.
Laura.
She broke into a run.
“Dad!” she cried and crashed into his arms.
He held her tight. She didn’t want to let go.
Laura came up, voice trembling. “Are you okay?”
Montserrat looked at her mom and smiled weakly—half reassurance, half I honestly have no idea what just happened
- Writer
