BLOOD OF THE FIRST

CHAPTER 02

Freya! Freya!!”

I heard someone calling me in a hushed, impatient whisper while shaking me violently.

“Where am I?” I asked, as pain shot through my throat, making my voice crack terribly.

“Come on. We have to go,” the voice said again, trying to lift me up, and I screamed terribly. The person’s touch brought immense pain to my body.

“Oh s**t. Oh s**t! They’re coming. I’m sorry, Freya. I’m so, so sorry,” the voice said—one I managed to identify as Eva’s. Eva and I were brought in at the same time. She’s rebellious like me, always trying to escape and each time, always getting caught. Every time, she tries to bring me along—sweet soul—but I’ve never tried to follow her. Maybe if the situation were different, we’d have been very good friends and I’d have gotten to know her better. Anyway, escaping from here is not an option for me because it is pointless. The place is heavily guarded; even if one managed to escape this facility, the people outside would just bring us back. I guess she’s trying to run away again, and this time I really want to follow her, but I suddenly realized she’s leaving without me.

I raised my head in pain and tried to call out to her.

“Ev—” The words wouldn’t come. My throat hurts as much as every other part of my body.

Heck! Guess I really pissed them off this time, huh?

I tried to laugh but ended up coughing up blood, which I wiped away with my hand. Then, I realized the chains binding my wrists were undone.

Eva!

God bless you, sis.

I dragged my fragile body slowly toward the slightly opened gate, but as I tried to stand up, a sharp, throbbing pain in my head made my vision spin, and I fell back, groaning. I clutched my chest and winced as my fingers came in contact with blood—fresh blood—and a torn wound.

With shaky fingers, I traced the wound and realized it was the mark of a claw. Then, I remembered my dream—the figure in my dream scratching me violently.

How is it possible?

Or was I hallucinating?

I coughed in pain as I tried to sit up to inspect the wound. I managed to rest my back against the cage wall and look at my torn clothes. Just like I suspected, it was indeed a scratch.

It doesn’t make sense.

How can I have a scratch from my dream?

The only logical explanation is that one of the wolves I pissed off did this.

I tried to laugh once again as I remembered the look on Jimmy’s face when his ear nearly came off.

I groaned loudly as the pain in my chest grew worse. I took my mind back to the first time I saw the ghostly lady in my dream.

I was fourteen, and she was younger too, and friendlier. We would run around together in the garden and share thoughts. She never said a word, but somehow it felt like I could hear her; I could communicate with her. Thinking of it, the lady also grew as I grew, and with each year she became more distant and less friendly. This is the first time she has attacked me, though.

She called me weak.

What would she have me do? It’s not like I had incredible fangs like her or those long, terrifying claws. The aura she gives off, though… it’s weird, but it feels like I know her. Like we share a bond. Like we’re one.

I thought of what my wolf would look like had I wolfed out. A dab of sadness crossed my lips; I guess I would never find out. I thought of my father; I thought of my brother. The thought of never seeing little Luca again scared me, and I made a vow right then to escape from here one way or the other. I’d rather die trying than stay here any longer.

With that resolution, I pushed myself up, forcing back the pain that coursed through me. I staggered forward, one step at a time, trying not to fall. I managed to make it to the opened steel gate. Then, I looked to my left to see if anyone was there.

Clear!

I breathed a sigh of relief as I turned to the right, only to be met with a blow that blacked me out instantly. When I came to, my body was being dragged. Everything was fuzzy as I tried to steady my focus, and when I did, I heard sobbing. I turned toward the sound only to see the girls looking at me pitifully and crying.

Merlyn, Cara, Angie, Stacie—all of them.

I wondered why they were crying. If I’ve survived these beatings, I’m sure I can survive this too. Or maybe it’s the state of me that’s making them cry.

It’s actually a bit of a relief to know there are people who care about you; in this place, we only have one another, so we always stick together.

I closed my eyes and let them drag me toward the field where I’d receive my punishment, when suddenly, I heard a terrifying HOWL.

My eyes shot wide open immediately. I guess the people dragging me also felt the same fear I did, as they paused before continuing.

Realization dawned on me. They weren't flogging me. They were taking me to the Demon Wolf.

Oh God!

No!

No!!

No!!!

I screamed inwardly and visibly panicked as I tried to break free and run in the opposite direction.

I’ll be gentle. I’ll do whatever they want. I don’t want to die.

The grip of the men on me was so tight that my efforts to break free earned a mocking laugh a kick to the stomach fromthem.

“See the b***h trying to run,” the one holding my right leg said.

“Let’s see how she can stay mute now when the beast tears her into pieces,” the other on the left responded as they tightened their grip more and dragged me violently, their claws digging into my flesh.

Everyone has heard of the Demon Wolf. He’s the last resort of punishment. I heard his cage is filled with Calytons—flowers offensive to a wolf, dulling their senses and making them go mad.

To a normal wolf, the scent from the flower would kill instantly, but this wolf is different. Even an Alpha wouldn’t have survived this long. He had been there for close to five years, I heard.

He rips apart whoever enters his cage without a second thought. A real monster, that wolf.

Now they’re taking me to him.

I’m never going to see Luca again, or my father.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I cried over and over again, losing any hope of being saved the closer we got to the cage.

We got there and met five guards in charge of the Demon Wolf’s cage. I looked around frantically. The cage is divided into two sections. The first section has triple gates that opened as one and is laced with vines and ancient gemstones I don’t recognize, but my guess is they prevent the wolf from coming out. When that gate is opened, the victim is thrown inside and the gate is locked. There is another gate inside—just one—also heavy, but not like the one outside. This gate is controlled by the guards outside; they push a lever that raises the gate up, giving access to the wolf and leaving the victim exposed.

I begged for my life as two of the guards went to push the lever.

I glued my body to the gate as though it would prevent me from being ripped apart.

I turned to look at the guards, maybe to beg them once again, offer them my body, do whatever it takes—but I gave up hope as the look on their faces was nothing close to pity. They were scared, yet excited to witness what is about to unfold. Their eyes were glued to the cage, and suddenly, almost in sync, they took a step back.

That’s when I realized.

The Demon Wolf is behind me.

I froze in place, eyes wide in panic as I felt his breath on me. I didn’t dare turn around, but curiosity got the better of me—or maybe it’s fear that made me turn—but I needed to see what would be the end of me. Immediately though, I wished I hadn’t.

I was staring into the darkest, bloodshot eyes I’ve ever seen. How big is this wolf exactly? He is like three of the biggest wolf I’ve ever seen combined, and that’s Micah, the tyrant who rules over our village.

I sobbed as I awaited my fate, but the sound caught in my throat as the wolf let out a deafening, terrifying roar. He sank his teeth into my clothes and dragged me away, deeper into his own section of the cage.

The last thing I remembered was his claw buried in my chest and the agonizing scream that came out of my mouth.

For some weird reason, the ghostly face that has always appeared in my dreams was the last thing I saw, but this time she didn’t look scary. She looked like she was also anticipating something, and somewhere in her eyes, I saw pity—like she’s almost sorry for me.

I breathed my last as I gave in to the cold hand of death.