Rhythms of the Wild

Chapter 6: Grand Slam

My phone chimed sharp, jarring, too loud for the silence we’d been sitting in. The tiny vibration felt like it rattled straight up my spine.

Nick: Keep Erin calm.

Me: What is happening? Are y’all okay?

Nick: Okay for now. Rogues. Stay in the room. Don’t let her out.

Me: Okay.

My stomach dropped. Rogues. And the fact that Nick the calmest guy in our pack was texting instead of speaking through the link with his sister made dread coil in my chest. I slid my phone into my back pocket and looked at Erin. She was already watching me, green eyes stretched wide, her brows pinched together. She didn’t need to ask; she read everything on my face. “It was Nick,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “They’re safe for now. It’s a rogue attack. He wants me to keep you here.” She scoffed immediately, crossing her arms so hard her nails dug into her skin. “This is absolutely stupid. If it’s just rogues, it shouldn’t be taking this long.” I crouched beside her, resting my hand on her knee. Her leg bounced tiny, quick, anxious movements she couldn’t stop. “Maybe they’re doing a sweep,” I said gently. “Or tracking to see if more are hiding.” She plucked at the fabric of her leggings in sharp little tugs, breathing harder than she wanted me to notice. She always tried to be the calm one. The Alpha’s daughter. The future Luna. Composure was practically tattooed on her forehead. “It’s still stupid,” she muttered. “It is,” I agreed softly. “But they’re okay. That’s what matters.” Her resolve cracked just a little as she reached for my hand. I sat on the floor in front of her, leaning my head against her leg. She rested her hand on top of my hair like I was some stressed out persons emotional support pet. Which, honestly, fair. “I do feel better that he texted,” she murmured. “That means it’s not… like… you know.” Her voice shook. “Not catastrophic.” “I hope, Rin.” Silence wrapped around us. Not peaceful silence, more like the thick, suffocating kind before a storm hits. She let out a tiny, choked laugh. “I can’t wait to tell everyone you cuddled me while I sat on the toilet.” I snorted. “Can you imagine the looks we’d get?” She grinned, though it trembled. “Make sure you add ‘while I was fully clothed and sitting on the lid.’” “That takes away half the scandal,” she teased. We stayed like that nearly an hour, me sprawled on the cold tile with her leg as my pillow, Erin perched tense and stiff on the closed toilet lid. We tried to distract each other with random jokes, whispered complaints, and way too much nervous laughter. Every few minutes, she checked her phone even though we both knew she’d feel it buzz if Nick messaged again. My back was starting to go numb when Erin’s eyes suddenly glazed over, going distant and unfocused. Pack link. At the same moment.

BANG BANG BANG.

Someone started pounding on her bedroom door. I shot upright, heart slamming against my ribs like it wanted out. Erin jerked, eyes snapping back to normal, terror flickering through them like a struck match. “That was Nick,” she whispered. “It’s all clear. He’ll be up here in a bit.” I stood slowly, legs stiff, palms sweaty. I asked the question she was asking herself before she realized it “Then who is beating on your door?” Her face drained of color. Very quietly, I cracked the bathroom door open and crept toward her bedroom. The pounding intensified, each hit shaking the frame like whoever, or whatever, was on the other side was done asking nicely. A warning instinct flared so violently it nearly knocked the air from my lungs. I spun around, grabbed Erin by the wrist, and shoved her back into the bathroom. I shut the door silently but quickly, locking it in one smooth motion. “Nick said it was clear,” she hissed, voice thin. “What are you doing?” “Hopefully overreacting,” I whispered. “But from my point of view? We stay in here until Nick opens that door himself. That pounding was getting aggressive. And I don’t trust anyone I can’t see right now.” She sat back on the toilet lid, breathing hard. “That makes sense.” I grabbed the ridiculous lamp we’d joked about earlier. It felt heavier now, deadly, almost weapon-like, though still completely stupid. “We really need actual weapons in here,” I muttered. “And in your room.” She snorted a whisper laugh. “Oh Yeah, Dad would love that.”

“Truth. We’d have better luck getting him to approve of us fighting off rogues with shopping bags.” I quietly joke. Her laugh came out half nervous. “I cannot stand you.” I dramatically batted my eyelashes. “Maybe not, but you loveeee me.” She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “Yeah. I really do.” The pounding outside grew louder, louder, louder.

Then stopped. Just stopped. The silence was worse. I looked at Erin. She looked at me. My throat felt like it was closing. Something scraped against wood.

CRACK!

Her bedroom door splintered with a horrific tearing sound, as if someone ripped it apart with claws instead of hands. The sound crawled down my spine and turned my blood to ice. Fear hit me so hard I swayed. An old human movie reference popped into my brain like a sick joke 'Here’s Johnny!' flashed across my mind. Completely unhelpful.

“Go,” I mouthed, pointing to the linen closet. Erin shook her head violently, tears spilling over. I could see the tremor starting in her arms, the way her breath hitched. Her wolf was pushing forward in panic, not control. My chest tightened. “Breathe,” I mouthed desperately. “Just breathe, please.” More crashes outside, something being thrown, something breaking, furniture snapping like twigs. It sounded like a war zone. Every thud made me flinch. Heavy footsteps shuffled toward the bathroom door. I choked up on the lamp, gripping it like a baseball bat. “Elbow up,” I whispered to myself, voice shaking. The handle jiggled. Hard. Then stilled. “And the bases are loaded…” I muttered under my breath, my attempt at humor thin and pathetic. A low growl rumbled from the other side of the door. Silence followed. Thick, suffocating, unnatural. I inhaled. Exhaled. Tried to keep my hands from shaking.

CRACK!

The bathroom door exploded inward, splinters shooting like tiny wooden shrapnel, scraping my arms and cheek.

“Here’s the pitch”

I swung. The lamp connected with a sickening THUD against the wolfs skull. The impact jolted through my bones, sending a shockwave up both arms. The wolf staggered, snarling, eyes wild. Pain vibrated through my fingers. I glanced back at Erin. “A grand slam. Four runs score,” I said in my best Vin Scully impression because my brain short-circuited under terror. Her body jerked in a violent spasm and then she shifted. Not gracefully. Not smoothly. With a choked cry that ripped from her throat as bones snapped and rearranged. Her wolf, Nola, surged forward in a burst of golden, shimmering fur that filled the tiny bathroom with heat and movement. She barreled past me, slamming into the wolf with the force of a battering ram. The impact knocked me backward. My head cracked against the edge of the counter. White hot pain blooming instantly. I hit the floor. Warm, wet liquid seeped beneath my fingers when I reached for the back of my head. My vision tunneled, shrinking, flickering like an old black and white television powering off. “Nola,” I choked, reaching blindly for her. “Don’t leave me…” The world faded. And everything went dark.