Blood-Stained Moon

Business as usual

I'm worried Remy, what if they're searching for us?

Right now I'm worried about covering our asses, literally and figuratively.

I exit the shower in haste and pull the towel, fastening it around my chest. I throw the hoodie I was wearing earlier onto the shower floor and watch it absorb until it was sodden. I grabbed the shampoo and squeezed roughly over it before stomping it out adn switching the shower off. I push it to the back wall of the shower and leave it there for later, no time to worry about disposing of it, but the scent was gone at least. I hurriedly scrub my body dry and rub my hair vigorously- good enough I think as I stare in the mirror. Apart from the dark circles and bloodshot eyes I look normal enough. I dress in record time and head out of the bathroom to check my room over again. I notice this time as I entered that at the end of my bed are my dress, shoes, phone and room key.

Who...?

Wolfy is pacing in my head again, unhappy that someone has been in our room. I sniff deeply, only my scent, Ry's, Grace and Leon's are present. I thanked them silently, grabbed my phone and key and started dashing down the hall, making extra sure that my room was securely shut first. Sh*t, I have less than 10 minutes before I'm late. I barely turn the corner when I hit someone with a thud. I stumble back and see a very angry Grace with her arms folded, staring me down.

"B*tch, where have you been?" She gave me a long sniff around my nape. "And who? Spill it, you clearly just got back from - wherever - the hell you were. Was it fun?" She c***s her head questioningly, raising an eyebrow dangerously high. " One- you are late. Two - you let us know next time, it takes seconds. And three- I want details at breakfast. ALL the details. Oh, and Leon and I picked your stuff up for you. Don't be so careless next time.". Her voice gets louder with each statement. My perfect cover- lateness for work. I shrug her off and mime, pointing to an imaginary watch before resuming my journey. Great, I have under 2 hours to come up with a fake story before I get grilled.

Pretend you knocked yourself out tripping over a rock or something. Or you got lost. Both totally believable

Wolfy snorts at me and rolls onto her back, flopping her huge tongue at me.

By me, you mean you, i***t.

I'm seriously out of breath when I reach the kitchens. Everyone is already hard at work at their stations. I frown and glance at the clock, damn. 2 minutes late. I curse under the breath as I try to catch it. Sneaking a look around, I see the head chef's are busy barking orders, hopefully too busy to see me sneak past. A bowl drops with clunk, and I praise every wolf under the sun for its distraction. It doesn't, however, distract one wolf. One wolf who is seething silently, pounding his dough more than kneading. I sidle next to Ryan awkwardly, pick up the apron next to him and pretend to be engrossed in kneading a dough pile.

Oh boy, we're in for it now.

The stream of words coming from the side of Ryan's mouth at a low whisper are not ones I wish to repeat. My ears are burning as he goes for it.

" We have discussed this so many times. F*ck R, if it were me? You'd be climbing the walls. You're goddamn lucky I don't chokehold you right this second. Do you have any idea?..... Grace....Leon.... So worried about you. argh sh*t. I cannot even... Safety... phone... keys... f*ck*ng h*ll. " I zone out after a while, I'm so tired and Ryan is so incomprehensible, his dough becoming so overworked it looks as dead as I feel. The poor youngsters on the other side of the counter have flaming red cheeks. You could have cooked an egg on them. I look up and they duck their heads. As if that would save them from hearing the stream of garbage coming from Ryan's mouth. I'm saved by the head pastry lady who smacks Ryan upside the head with her rolling pin, muttering something about never hearing such vile slander coming from anyone's mouth before and how she ought to wash it out with a bar of soap for good measure. She shoos him off to the ovens to make him watch the pastry rise and barks at us to keep our heads down and work lest we get our mouths added to the wash too. The youngsters sucked their heads even further 'til their noses nearly touched their kneading fists. I shape, tray up and bake diligently, desperate to stay awake. All the while wondering if a lame story about getting lost in the woods during the run and falling down a hole would satisfy everyone enough to get them off my back. I mean, it's sure believable enough for a klutz like me.

My eyes are just so heavy. I can barely keep my head up enough to finish the morning shift. I just have to think of the steaming hot coffee with breakfast and hope it'll work long enough to keep me from snoring in my bowl. Working hard doesn't stop me from watching the clock. I keep glancing, willing the hands to tick faster- or to look up and, magically, the time has passed. I sigh and roll my shoulders, hoping to ease the stiffness of lack of sleep on a dirt floor.

I don't have to wait much longer, shouts of plate up are called and everyone starts loading onto the Bain Maries. I hand the trays off to Ryan- as he is continuing his punishment under the watchful eye of the head. The other two pups dare not come near either of us in fear of getting into trouble by association. I could almost laugh, I remember all the times I was disciplined by our head chef back at clan Silver. Bobby, or bobble head we used to call him back in the day. Ryan was late most of the time, and so was I, by the time I'd dragged him out of bed. Bobby would get so mad the veins on his head would pop out, and his head would wobble when he shouted. As we got older though we gave him a lot more respect, he had a tough job. Especially when he got injured during the attack nearly 8 years ago. His arm was so badly shredded the tendons never reconnected and the muscles were all but gone. He barely turned up to the kitchen after that, it was mostly his sous chefs. They didn't care much about us and left us to it. We soon helped pick up the slack.

I'm pulled from my thoughts in fear as familiar voices bounce off the walls. I hear them questioning people about Claire's whereabouts. I force myself to turn around. Valerie is strutting in front, clipboard and pen to hand, checking off what I assume to be names- on a list of suspects. Greene is there, interrogating everyone at Claire's station. He even throws whom I vaguely remember to be Angelo up against the sinks before releasing him. The terrified Angelo doesn't even dare to move as he slides down and a few clean pans clatter to the floor. He catches me staring, and makes a beeline towards me. His face torn between fury and a smirk. Roan breaks through from behind him and sidles him over, muttering under his breath, towards Greene's ear. His face contorts into more fury, but he nods and stops abruptly. Roan paces towards me and grabs my arm tightly. " With me Remilda." His gruff voice is short and sharp. Not betraying as much emotion as I would like. As my former Alpha I felt safer in his hands than the ba*tard that tried to disfigure me last night. The hope that discipline would be less harsh by Beta Roan. " Nothing to see here. Anyone hears anything about Claire Brannig, report to Valerie. Get a move on, and clean this mess up." Greene shouts angrily, motions to the few pans on the floor and storms out. Valerie sweeps her beady hawk eyes around the room and turns heel, click clacking all the way out with a sashay. Roan keeps a firm grip and stares ahead intently as we follow suit. He doesn't follow the others for long however. I don't recognise where we are going. We head up some stairs, that I assume to be servant stairs as they are tucked behind a door down a log hallway. We head up the stairs and he pulls me into the first room on the right, scanning it quickly and closing the curtains- disturbing a thick layer of dust. He turns back towards me and glares at me, revealing his hidden anger. I take a deep breath, here we go...