A Wolf in the City

12. Just an Instrument for me.

Dante.

I walk into the Davis club, one that is run by father to cover his tracks in the human world. His club is now being considered as one of the most luxurious establishments in the country, with guests even begging to get onto his waiting list that’s a mile long, much less inside. Not one person slipped in here by chance; the list of guests is always reviewed carefully so we know who each one of them are and so they don’t get to know our cover.

What’s the point of owning the club if you can’t blackmail some people with their actions in it? The more mysterious the place, the more demand it has among the society that makes it profitable even if for us it’s nothing but a toy and cover. We couldn’t care less about this f*****g club despite the huge profits; it’s pocket change for the likes of us.

A lot of the fortunes that has been kept for thousand of years was successfully stolen by the five men that raided our home and killed off our kind, but even at that, we still had a some of the fortune stored that the men did not know about nor get access to and they are what we used to establish everything and plan all of these.

The place is decorated with silver, red, and black colors representing the riders, a nice touch courtesy of father himself. The bar is located in the back, right corner with four bartenders busily preparing drinks for everyone while the rest of the staff easily navigate through the club to booths and tables in the left corner. They deliver orders of steaming food on porcelain dishes picked out by father too. Each one of them wears black pants and white button-up shirts.

After looking around for more minutes, my eyes continue only to settle on a round, leather couch comfortable enough to sit in, along with round tables and lamps on them should anyone need to speak privately. The VIPs are on the second floor, which has several soundproof rooms with surveillance cameras in case trouble arises and someone might need our help.

Four cages hang from the ceiling with dancers inside wearing provocative clothes, showcasing their skills and flexibility to the awe of everyone watching. The crystals on the chandeliers shift in the breeze from the air condition, brightening up the entire space with colorful lights.

Pushing through the bodies, I zero my gaze on the dark corridor behind the bar leading to the elevator, which will take me upstairs. The floor above held our meeting room and I walk into it. It has a table with two chairs, a TV hanging on the wall, three laptops, and four tablets. Then also a golden bowl right in the middle of the table.

As soon as I lock the door behind us, and I sit on the chair, I try to act like I did not know that Father is looking at me while I take out a cigarette from my pocket and light it, getting ready to get a earful from him.

Without warning, he clenches his fist, a vein pop out of his forehead. and then he swings his arm at me. I instantly begin to feel light-headed as my legs give way and I crumble to the ground. My vision blurs as tiny droplets of sweat runs down my forehead, it took me some seconds to recover from the impact and when he is sure that I have, Father raises his hand for the pack of cigarette in my hand, and I throw it to him and do the same with the lighter after lighting up.

“That was for going against the plan. Now, start talking,” he barks, and the cigarette pauses midway to my mouth.

Father is a compact, clear cut man, with precise features, a lot of very soft black hair, and thoughtful dark brown eyes. He has a look of wariness, which could change when he feels relaxed or happy, which is not often in these years that I have been raised by him, into a smile of amused friendliness and pleasure which arouses feelings of warmth, and something more, in many women even though he is well over fifty when it comes to human age, and he looks it perfectly. In reality though, he is over ninety years.

His hair is long and hangs down, his hair shines like that of a young boy— it is crinkled and crisp as lettuce and you can see his eyes shining through like he is behind vines. There is little to no color in his face, it is white; not like another man’s white, but a white to make a body sick, a white to make a body’s flesh crawl – a tree-toad white, a fish-belly white. A color that I see him turn into when he is very angry and trying so hard to stop himself from running wild and destroying things, or worst snapping heads off the necks of humans.

Besides the color, his face is delicate and fierce, and scowls beautifully forever, and when he fastens his hard white fingers and his scowling eyes upon a thing he wants to fix, he sniffs with sharp and private concentration through his long, pointed nose…

He is commonplace in complexion, in feature, in manners, and in voice. He is of middle size and of ordinary build. His eyes, of the usual blue, are always remarkably cold, and he certainly can make his glance fall on one as trenchant and heavy as an axe… Otherwise there was only an indefinable, faint expression of his lips, something stealthy — a smile — not a smile — but I just can’t explain it.

Father has a very thin patience and even before he speaks, his fists or claws always do first, it’s like he has this bottled up and pent up anger that he’s just keeping all in to unleash and I can not help but pray that he at least gives me the chance to do this my way instead of his. He did not train me so vigorously and inhumanely for years to not have any iota of trust in me when it comes to taking revenge for our kind, for us.

“I am sorry that I did not carry it out as we have planned, father, but... uh... I just think that killing these people without exposing them for every single one of their corrupt and evil deeds just defeats the total purpose of this revenge, they are literally going to just die as heroes of their country. So I thought I should use the opportunity to threaten and make him s**t in his pants first before I then kill him...” I say and Father’s scoff interrupts me.

“Sometimes, I ask myself why you are as dumb as these humans? The fact that you think any of these men will ever confess to any crime at all makes me laugh and it makes me realize that you are not as intelligent as you pose to be.”

“I am sorry, father but I thought I did what was right.” I say, adamantly.

“I can not believe that after all these years of training, you’re still a weak i***t. You know that, if not because I am an omega and doing this will tell a toll on me, I would have cleared these men and their families all by myself in a twinkle of an eye.” He says venomously.

“I’ll do it, father. I promise to make you proud, I will make sure that these men suffer for their deeds, that they regret that night. But father, I also think that killing their family is not a necessity.” I say and I immediately get a slap on my face.

Afterwards, he throws some papers at me and the content of it fall out, it turned out to be pictures of Raven Martinez and I in somewhat compromising positions. “Is that what is changing your mind?” He asks.

I sigh, “Father, it is not what you think at all, this girl is just an instrument for me, I am merely playing around with her and will have her broken at the end of it all.” I explain and he scoffs.

“I don’t even care, Dante. My plan, our plan stays the same. They all die, and that includes every little one of their bloodlines. Each and every one. That’s it, so stop playing around and dragging the mission through the mud, remember what we are here for, the humans have ways of swaying individuals easily but we are werewolves and we should not fall for their tactics so easily. Always have it at the back of your mind that they they never accepted us and as if that was not enough, they try to wipe us out of existence and take our fortunes that isn’t theirs and trust me when I say they will do the same thing over and over again.”

I remain mute afterwards even though I had planned to ask him about the weird feeling I keep getting within me, about the unexplainable attraction I had towards a human. It is sure to get messy if I dare to throw that question after all he had just said. But then, I seriously want to know.

Can a human be a werewolf’s mate?