Darien
"Diagnosis?" I inquire as soon as I enter my office and find Cowboy waiting for me, as I asked.
Cowboy was one of the few wolves left from my father's time in the pack, as most of them followed the Old Man into hell.
He was the pack doctor since he went to medical school before his life went down the drain, and he became a Nightfall.
Not that I knew much about it. The situation of the older werewolves, like Cowboy or Rocket, was known only to the Alpha of the time, my father, who brought them in the first place.
All I know is that his entire family was wiped out and that Cowboy became a low-level mercenary before Rocket brought him into the group a few years before my father's death.
"Wherever she came from, it's a poor place. Her body shows signs of malnutrition, and she's got some broken bones that haven't healed properly.
Her body is covered in scars, from knife cuts to whip marks." The wolf explains. I arch my eyebrows.
"Whip marks?" I'm not exactly a novice when it comes to scars.
My own body is full of them for different reasons. But getting whipped is something I've fortunately never had to experience.
But I have seen it happen. It used to be practiced by the Nightfall Flames themselves in the days when Shadow, my father, was still in charge.
Not just on victims, that would be acceptable since my werewolves have done much worse things, but on ourselves, as punishment.
Every time a wolf breaks a rule, he has to be punished. It is one of the worst parts of being the Alpha, but it is necessary.
The rules exist for a reason. If you betray the pack, you are killed.
If you disobey a direct order from your Alpha, your punishment will be given according to the severity of your mistakes.
I banished the whip. I may not be an angel, but I am not a savage.
The Cowboy nods. "Yes. Her feet also indicate that she has spent a few hours running on uneven ground. She must have gotten stuck somewhere and managed to escape."
I remember the conversation with the girl. She said she had come from an orphanage.
I know these places don't always offer the best conditions, but was it possible they were doing something on this level?
I sigh and agree. "Thanks, Cowboy. You can go."
The werewolf nods and leaves the office, closing the door behind him.
I approach my desk and sit back in my chair, letting my head fall back and closing my eyes.
Nearly immediately, the image of Amaya staring at me with her large, incredibly blue eyes appears in my mind.
I would have to talk to Hacker to analyze all the orphanages near the area where Cobra and Kron found the girl.
I knew I couldn't just solve her problem, I had a pack to lead, and my attitudes had to be thought out and elaborate.
But to hit a girl like this, with this level of cruelty... it was bothering me.
Nightfall Flames has few moral principles, but they exist and are very important.
No prejudice, no messing with animals, and no abusing innocent people, whether sexually or otherwise.
Men who believe that just because they have a stick between their legs, they're stronger and thus can abuse little girls are particularly disgusting.
And those men make me very angry. Which, in itself, is a big part of why they don't last long alive here.
I hear a knock on the door and sigh, opening my eyes. "Yeah?"
The door opens, and Ace pokes his head in, sending me one of his bright smiles.
I had serious suspicions that this was the scariest werewolf in this pack. His clothes and politeness could fool many people.
But I watched him wear that same polite smile as he tore a person apart part by part, watching them scream as the life left their bodies without crumpling their clothes or messing up their hair.
"She's come down, Alpha. Want me to send her in?" I agree, and he nods, walking away and returning just two seconds later with Amaya Covey.
Her scent invaded my nostrils before they even passed through the door.
A familiar smell, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't decipher where it came from.
I let myself analyze the girl for just a second. She is pretty, very pretty.
Thin and scarred, yes, but that doesn't matter.
I like to think that I am one of those men smart enough to understand that the beauty of a woman is not a big pair of boobs but something different.
Everyone has their beauty if you know how to appreciate it.
And this girl... Damn.
This, however, is not the moment, so I don't let my thoughts travel too far in that direction.
She was wearing the outfit Lia left for her, and I had to suppress a smile when I saw the word "Moon Flower" written on the back of her shorts, decorating her ass.
I exchange a look with Ace, seeing the amusement in his eyes. Yes, he had noticed.
"Here you go, Alpha."
"Thanks, Ace. You can go."
The werewolf nods and walks out, closing the door behind him and leaving us alone.
I push one of the chairs across the table with my foot, motioning with my head for her to sit down.
The girl looked lost. I understood. If she grew up in captivity, as everything indicated, she must not have seen places like the pack before.
Most humans don't even believe this place exists, and those who do, disapprove of us with all their might.
To come downstairs and find shirtless werewolves and half-naked women walking around, sex, booze, and drugs on the loose, and some people even more intimate than they should be?
From the funny look on the girl's face now, it seemed that smoke would start pouring out of her ears at any moment.
Well, for us, it's normal. It's the only world I know.
Amaya sits up, her stiff posture and a hesitant expression on her face.
Her hands remain in her lap, one on top of the other, her eyes staring at me as if I were the villain who would decide her fate.
I suppose that is precisely the situation.
"Well, Amaya... I want to know exactly what I'm getting involved with here," I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest and letting my eyes meet his "You said you came from an orphanage. How old are you?"
She couldn't be much younger than me. Maybe four, maybe five.
"Eighteen" four then.
Her size made me think she was younger, but I suppose that must be a result of a poor diet.
At the same time that her body tells me that she is just a teenager, her eyes scream that she has been through much more than anyone else her age.
Maybe even more than me. And at twenty-two years old, I consider myself someone who has seen almost everything.
"What happened to you?" she stares at me uncomprehendingly, blinking those big eyes. I sigh. "You were running away from something when you ran into my people. What was it?"
"The orphanage."
"Did they do that to you?" I asked, indicating her feet, which were still bandaged. She was wearing a pair of slippers from one of the gang bums, but I noticed she limped when she reached over. "The scars."
Amaya hesitates but then nods. "They teach discipline."
"Discipline?"
She looks at me as if her answer is already an obvious one. "What is sin or not sin? What can you do or not do to avoid the flames of hell."
I avoid rolling my eyes, despite the overwhelming urge. I hate these people. I have nothing against religion.
Everybody believes whatever they want. I don't give a shit.
But I hate the motherfuckers who scream that you are going to hell simply because they think the bible says so.
People who want you to live in fear of a greater evil just to fit their life standards.
What differs is evil and, according to that same logic, reprehensible.
Do I look like the kind of guy who cares about following the bible? The fear of these people is not my problem. If I go to hell, so be it. It won't be a big surprise, anyway.
"You must hate this place then," I murmur, letting a small smile escape. Her cheeks flush slightly, a lovely shade of pink appearing.
"Ugh... Weird. I've never seen anything like this before. No, one seems to care if they're sinning or not."
I can't help smiling. "Ah! We know we are sinning, little one. But you're right... We know too many things to care about such trivial things," she frowns, but I just put my feet up on my desk, crossing them and keeping my eyes on the girl. "Your scars... Were they punishments?"
She nods. "Sinners deserve to suffer, for it is only when the flesh begins to burn that the infidels worry about the end that takes the soul," I said as if repeating the words from someone else's mouth. That was probably the case.
"These people... Are they going to look for you here?"
"They will try," Amaya confirms. She swallows dryly, her eyes filling with fear. "Will you turn me into them?"
I could. It would save me a lot of trouble, that was for sure.
But I also had no reason to do that now she was already eighteen, and according to the law, she is free to do whatever she wants, as long as it doesn't harm us.
The only thing that kept her here was that she witnessed something she shouldn't have. I'll take care of the rest later.
"I won't. But remember our agreement, Amaya. No trying to escape." She nods, getting visibly relieved, and I sigh. "No werewolf in here is going to hurt you, just obey our agreement, and you'll be fine."
The girl seems to relax a little, biting her lip and shaking her head. I feel a twinge of sympathy for the girl; I was letting her stay for the time being.
The moment she becomes a problem, her fate is sealed.
I pick up my phone and send a message to Lia:
I just had a conversation with her. Wait outside my office, and, when she comes out, take her out for something to eat.
The reply comes almost immediately:
Okay.
I put the phone aside and met the girl's blue eyes in front of me. "What is the name of this orphanage, Amaya?"
"Saved Souls." She murmurs. The name seems to give her the chills. I nod.
"All right! You should be hungry, but Lia is waiting for you outside to take you to the kitchen so she can prepare something for you. You know the rules: Don't go out without permission, and if you must, never do it alone; don't meddle in the gang's affairs, and don't talk about what you saw here with anyone outside."
She agrees, and I feel a corner of my lips lift.
"You may go, little one."
The girl hurries out of the office.
AmayaDo you know the saying: the apple never falls far from the tree? I have heard it a few times in books and the few movies I watched as a child.I have always believed it faithfully because it makes sense.The people who raise you are the ones who prepare you for the world and who make you the person you are.For many, these people are their parents. The children grow up to follow their parents' careers and become firefighters or cops, just like their fathers.I was never prepared for the world. I was groomed for obedience or death. I was not taught to count change or to order food alone in a restaurant.I was taught to keep my head down, not to wear provocative clothes, and to obey. That is all I ever knew.I grew up with the only idea that I would die when I reached my eighteenth birthday, as happens to all orphans.Going against the beliefs imposed on a child from the moment he can remember is one of the most complicated things to do. Never let anyone convince you otherwise.Th
Nine years earlier, a lost place in Missouri, the United States..."Please, no," I whimpered once again. My pleas are useless and pathetic, I know. It won't work, I know.It never worked before, and I doubt it will start now, but fear prevents me from being silent.Thick tears trail down my face until they reach the hard metal against which my chest is pressed.Lying here, I feel the moisture beginning to soak through my blouse, an eloquent mixture of tears and saliva.With my back to my torturer, I am just waiting for the pain I know will come."Do you know the reason for this, Amaya?" A sob escapes from my lips when I hear Sister Ruth's voice, but I nod.I can no longer feel the side of my face from being pressed hard against the cold, stiff metal of the table.I see my reflection in the small puddle of water, mocking me by showing my weakness."I know," I reply, and I immediately regret stammering. It isn't good, and the sisters don't like it.My ten-year-old body is trembling with
Current Times, a lost place in Missouri, The United States.AmayaI move as fast as my legs can handle, ignoring the protests of my muscles as I see the hole in the fence surrounding the orphanage a few feet away from me.The sound of barking dogs, running security guards, and the chaos I leave behind when I run away rings loud in my ears, a sound that accompanies my heartbeat.The wounds on the soles of my feet bring tears to my eyes every time I step on a pebble in the dirt. But I ignore them, running even faster.To stop now is to remain in hell for the rest of my life, and I would rather die.The pleasant wind characteristic of the city whips against my face, and the cloudless blue sky above me is a sight worth beholding.The sun is intense at this time of day, with the rays beating lightly against my face, warming my skin, and the feeling of being touched by the light running through my aching body.A stark contrast to the damp, freezing place I had just come from.If I were an o
Rockville, Missouri, The United States.DarienI close my eyes and throw my head back. My eyes closed in ecstasy the minute I spurt into the mouth of the girl kneeling in front of me.My hand tightened a little more the dark strands of his hair.The movement of her mouth swallowing everything around my member draws a soft moan from my throat.I lightly stroke her head in appreciation before releasing her.The brunette gets up from the floor, facing me with a mischievous little smile as she runs the back of her right hand over her mouth, wiping away what wasn't even there.She runs her hands through my hair and sits on my lap so I can feel that she is not wearing panties under her dress.However, before I can do anything about it, the door to my office opens. I look toward the entrance, ready to shout at whoever it is.I stop myself when my eyes meet a woman with long blonde hair, amused brown eyes, and doll-like features.Her hands are on her waist, and she arches an eyebrow as she st
AmayaI run through the empty halls, counting the seconds in my head as my feet meet the frozen floor.The alarm was ringed throughout the orphanage, and the cries of the orphans, guards, and nuns could be heard outside. The chaos caused by the knife fight would be over in two minutes.Three if I was lucky. I needed to get to Cece.I walked past a few open doors of unoccupied rooms, stopping only when I reached the front of my best friend's dorm.The door was ajar, which was not a good sign, considering that we planned to leave the door locked. I walk in but immediately stop at the sight that awaits me.Cece was on the ground. A pool of blood was growing around her, staining her long curly hair.The scarlet red mixed with the naturally fiery red of the red hair also stained half of her face.Her eyes were closed, and her freckled skin was paler than usual, which was frightening in and of itself, considering how white the girl was naturally.Who had done this to her? Had my plan been d