Revenge of the Lone Wolves

Nora Wells wiped the sweat from her forehead and straightened up. Exhaling loudly, she stretched as her muscles ached pleasantly from the rigorous workout. She had been out here on the training grounds of Lyacnore since late afternoon, attacking the dummy as she practiced the moves her father had taught her. The leather wrappings around her hands were frayed and damaged from repeated impact, and she could feel the dull ache in her hands, but she didn't mind; her father always said the pain was a reminder that she was growing stronger. She took off the bindings and walked over to a cooler. Taking a bottle, she drank and splashed some water on her face. She glanced over her shoulder at the packhouse where her father, Franklin Wells, the alpha of Lyacnore was holding his usual meetings with the pack leaders of Lyacnore. It was a comforting sight, knowing that her father was inside, guiding their community as he always had. Lycanore was alive with the sounds of people. Children chased each other as elders looked on with fond smiles. Across the training yard, various werewolves sparred with each other, their fangs bared and claws sharp as they dodged and parried. It was just another evening in the largest werewolf settlement in the country. Nora packed up her training gear as her mind wandered to her father's stories about the dangers lurking outside the safe haven that was Lycanore, werewolf hunters. More specifically, the Red Hunters, ruthless and relentless, have taken down too many of her kind, part of which caused the rapid growth of Lyacnore over the past few years as werewolf packs across the country sought refuge. As she walked out of the training yard, she caught sight of her best friend, Mel Johnson, going solo against three other werewolves. She took them down easily enough and Nora felt a small pang of envy. Mel was strong for her age, she was a prodigy in Lycanore, well on her way to becoming a pack leader. Nora was the opposite; she still struggled with her training, and she had yet to beat a werewolf in a spar. Not what you would expect from the only child of the Alpha of Lycanore. She sighed and kept walking, needing to freshen up at her house. As she rounded a corner, muffled voices caught her attention. It came from one of the buildings. Curiosity prickled through her as she drew closer, slipping into the shadows behind the building. “You're certain Franklin doesn't suspect anything?” Nora recognized that voice; it belonged to Gordon Santino, her father's closest friend and the second in command. He sounded tense and impatient. The second voice responded, low and sneering, “Not a clue, the old man trusts you completely; we'll have no problems taking over once he's dead.” it was Kyle Walker; the thought of him made Nora's skin crawl. He was notorious for his cruelty. Her mind raced as she tried to process what she was hearing. What were they planning? It did not sound like anything good. Gordon's voice dropped even further, forcing her to strain to hear, “I sent the coordinates to Orion this morning, he should be here anytime now” “How did you manage that without revealing yourself?” Kyle asked, “I have my ways. When the Hunters strike, I'll make sure Franklin doesn't make it out alive.” Nora clamped her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming out. Orion! The hunters! They were going to attack the community at any moment, and Gordon was planning to use that opportunity to kill her father. She needed to warn her father. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she backed away slowly turning to go back to the packhouse. Before she could take more than a few steps, the alarm bells rang out, slicing through the tranquility of Lycanore. A deep resonating howl followed, the signal of danger. The Hunters were here. Instantly the werewolves mobilized, transforming from a peaceful community into a force ready for battle. Nora ran, desperate to find her father, she had to warn him before it was too late. An explosion rocked the air as she came closer to the packhouse. She could see that it was cleared out, her father nowhere in sight. “Nora!” a voice called. Turning, she saw Mel running toward her. “It's the Red Hunters. I don't know how they came in, but they are killing everyone,” Mel said in panic. “I have to find my father, I have to warn him!” “He and the pack leaders are probably at the gates, trying to hold them off” Nora wasted no time as she ran, even as Mel called for her to wait, warning her of the danger. She came closer to the heat of the action as gunfire erupted around her, bullets whizzing through the air. She ran past bodies, bloodied and unmoving but she kept going, determined to find her father. Suddenly, she stopped. There he was, a force to be reckoned with, as he took down Hunters with high efficiency, his fangs bloody and his red eyes aglow with rage, his massive wolf form tearing into flesh and bone. Relief flooded her veins, he was alive. But behind him was Gordon, picking up a knife from a fallen Hunter, his yellow eyes fixed on Franklin. Nora's blood ran cold as she realized his intention. “Dad!” She screamed, and just as her father turned in her direction, Gordon drove the knife into his back, twisting it viciously. Franklin let out a strangled howl, collapsing to the ground, Gordon knelt beside him, whispering something into his ear. The werewolves around him took no notice of this, too busy with the ongoing battle. Nora couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Hot tears stung her eyes as she stared at her father lying there as he slowly transformed back into his human form. Franklin's eyes met hers and he mouthed one word “Run” “Nora”, Gordon said sharply and Nora looked up to see Gordon coming towards her, “Come here!” That snapped her out of it; she immediately took off in the opposite direction as she heard Gordon's loud bark, “Get her!”