CHAPTER TWO
1120 Words
Snowflakes melted into blood as her boot crushed the rogue’s throat. The man gagged, his silver-tipped arrow skittering across the frozen ground.
Around her, the forest screamed, snarls of wolves, the wet crunch of bone, the metallic tang of blood. Her mercenaries moved like shadows, finishing off the last of the ambush.
The moon hit her just right as she towered over the rogue, and the moonlight catches the silver streaks in her black braid. She looked very intimidating with the jagged scar carved from left temple to jawline, pale as old bone.
Snowflakes clung to their leader’s lashes like frozen tears as she crouched in the blood-soaked clearing, her dagger buried in the rogue’s throat. His gurgled breaths fogged the air, his silver-tipped arrow still lodged in the tree behind her.
Pathetic.
She yanked the blade free, letting his body slump into the crimson slush. Around her, the forest hissed with the aftermath of battle and groans of dying wolves, the metallic tang of blood, the creak of her mercenaries shifting back to human form.
“That’s the last of them,” Lucian said, materializing from the shadows. His auburn hair was matted with gore, his tawny eyes glinting like a wolf still half-feral. He tossed her a rag.
“You’re bleeding, Ghost.”
She wiped her cheek, the cut already sealing. “Not mine.”
She crouched, dagger pressed to the another dying rogue’s jugular, and with a sneer asked “Who sent you?”
The man’s lips twitched, blood bubbling. “B—b--blackthorne”
Her body went still and her blade bit deeper. “Speak.”
“Blackthorne is… next…” The wolf managed to cough out.
A chill coiled in her gut. Behind her, Lucian barked orders, his voice sharp. “Burn the bodies! Now!”
The rogue’s hand shot up, clawing at her sleeve. “They’re… coming… for… him…”
Ghost leaned closer. “Who’s ‘they’?”
A whistling thwip cut through the air.
The rogue’s head snapped back, an arrow jutting from his eye.
“Ambush!” Lucian roared, shifting back into his wolf form, tawny fur, amber eyes blazing.
Her mercenaries surged into the trees, but she stayed frozen, staring at the black-fletched arrow. Too clean. Too precise.
“Ghost!” Lucian snarled, human again, gripping her arm. “We need to move!”
She shook him off. “Find the shooter.”
“They’re gone. No tracks. No scent. Gone.”
Her jaw tightened. “Then search again.”
******
The mercenaries dragged the rogue corpses into a pyre, the flames licking at the night sky. Ghost paced, her gloves stained crimson, her mind clawing at the rogue’s final word.
Blackthorne.
Lucian watched her, his gaze unreadable. “You’re obsessing.”
She didn’t look at him. “They attacked us, then warned us. Why?”
“Because we’re the best mercenaries among the wolves with a woman for a leader.” He stepped closer, the firelight carving shadows into his stubbled jaw. “Let it go.”
“No.”
“Elara…”
She whirled. “It’s Ghost.”
He flinched, then smirked. “Sure. Ghost.” His tone dripped mockery. “Because pretending you’re dead makes it easier?”
Her dagger pricked his chest. “Careful.”
He didn’t back down. “You think hunting rogues will erase him? That this…” he gestured to the pyre “will fix what he did?”
The blade trembled. “I think you talk too much.”
Jax, her scout, stumbled into the clearing, panting. “Boss! You have to come and see this, there is something at the den.”
The bunker’s steel door hung ajar, frost creeping across its hinges. Elara’s breath fogged as she stepped inside, Lucian at her back.
“Clear,” he muttered, scanning the dim war room.
A glint on the table caught her eye. A scroll. Blackthorne’s crimson seal glared up at her, the wolf-and-thorns sigil waxed shut. Lucian cursed under his breath.
“Elara, don’t.” But she was not listening, she immediately broke the seal.
To the mercenary called Ghost,
Your services are required. Rogues breach our borders. Silver arrows. No survivors.
Payment: $40000
—Alpha Kieran Blackthorne
Elara stared at the paper for some minutes. His cursive handwriting, the short and straight forward message, and his named signed at the bottom. She felt like he was standing right in front of her and a small part of herself began to miss him. The weak part that she had learned to suppress and harden by several years of battle.
Then she remembered the cold and untrusting look in his eye the day he banished her from her pack and began to crumble the paper unconsciously.
Lucian snatched it. “Toss it. Now.”
She stared at the hearth, flames reflecting in her scars. “I think we should go.”
Lucian came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist “We have money Elara.”
“Not enough. And its Ghost to you.”
“Oh, spare me the Ghost bullshit right now” He stepped into her space, voice low. “This isn’t about money. It’s about him.”
She met his glare. “It’s about finishing him.”
A beat. Lucian’s jaw flexed. “You walk into that territory, he’ll kill you.”
“Well good thing he thinks I’m dead.”
“And if he recognizes you?” He said while looking deep into pale gold eyes.
She smiled halfheartedly, all teeth. “Then I’ll remind him why he should’ve made sure of it.”
Outside, the wind howled.
Lucian gripped her wrist. “Don’t do this.”
She pulled free. “Gear up. We ride at dawn.”
He didn’t move. “Why? Am I not good enough to make you forget him?”
Elara paused at the door, her back to him. “This is not about you or us. This is because I owe him a debt.”
“What debt?”
Elara turned away, not answering. “The contract came from the pack. Not him, he is just a signatory because he is the alpha.”
“I think it will look suspicious if we don’t take it, a mercenary refusing to work for one of the most powerful packs there is? They might begin to look into us.” She continued.
Lucian sighed, like he was finally about to give up, “What if it is a trap?”
She smirked because she knew she had worn him down. “You know I live for traps. Now come on, let’s go see my ex-mate.”
- Writer
