Chapter 225

Almara’s Pov

The familiar has us walk in front while it keeps a steady pace behind us. I can feel its eyes like daggers into my back, its every move causes my skin to crawl. Though I’m facing forward, all I can focus on is what’s happening behind me.

I’d much rather be walking behind it. We could try and veer away and escape, launch an attack, or discretely communicate with one another. Though it’s for those very reasons that we are being walked ahead and though we are in front, this feels much more submissive. It’s humiliating.

Zack, Arthur, and I walk in a straight line. I’m starving and my feet are swollen, but I don’t dare say anything about it now. The chirping birds seem to grow quiet as we near and pass them as if some evil force that even they can pick up on silences them.

The bright sun that once illuminated the blue sky and cast sharp shadows has resided behind some thick clouds causing the drop in temperature and shapeless, diffused light to cover the land. If we hadn’t been walking for the last several miles, I might actually be cold.

“Towards the right,” the familiar says. I’m still not used to its voice. Every time it speaks, it’s as though a sound not from this earth is breaking through a warped vortex and mutating it’s vocal cords to be audible to our ears. It’s unnatural.

Still, we obey. We turn our strives towards the right, and I quickly realize we’re heading to the way of the city. We’re not keeping hidden to the backroads, beath paths, woods, and unmarked land. We’re going to be out in the populated areas.

Part of me hopes that enough wolves will come to their senses and attack this mutation so we can be set free, but the more skeptical part of me also knows that this familiar wouldn’t be leading us that way if it had any concern that might happen.

Arthur and I glance sideways at one another sharing the same suspicions. “Eyes forward,” the familiar growls and every so slightly, Arthur’s lip curls into a snarl. I plead internally with him to not lash out.

Soon enough we’ll be out in the open and a weird thought intrudes in my brain. I wonder if whoever set up the bugged microphones in our home will see us. Maybe that’s why the familiar is walking us to the general public.

Could it be possible they’re working for the person who bugged out house and that person will be there to see their goal has been accomplished. The Hurricane Pack has been captured. I think of what Cathy said.

Our therapist as the one to possibly bug our house, but why would she do that? Revenge is the only answer that comes to mind and a new question forms: what would she have to do with the familiars?

We’re approaching the highway. We come out of the trees that line across the guardrails and all there’s left to do now is cross the road. “Go,” the familiar commands.

Arthur and Zack swing their legs over the rusting metal, I try to find my balance and hoist myself up and over the barrier. I feel Arthur’s strong hands slide under my arm and help me. “No touching. The familiar hisses, but Arthur ignores it.

A second later a crack sounding like a whip slicing through air assaults our ear drums. It only takes a second to see blood dripping down Arthur’s face. He has four jagged gashes running from his left temple down to his chin.

The cut is deep and is likely to get infected if not cleaned soon.

Instinctively I want to reach out and touch him, but as soon as I raise my hands Arthur backs away. “Don’t,” Arthur says, some blood splattering off of his lip.

“Smart,” the familiar says half of its lips curling into a smile. My blood boils and I want to lunge in for an attack.

Meanwhile, Zack has gone pale. His jaw is clenched and he keeps his face expressionless. No doubt, a trick learned while in bootcamp.

We go to cross the roads, realizing that cars have already stopped on both sides of the road, letting us cross.

The windows are rolled up, but people’s faces are pressed against the glasses with their eyes bulging in both fear and curiosity. Zack and Arthur keep their heads held high, while all I want to do is hang my head in shame. Instead, I think I stand out the most with my bulging belly as I waddle across the street.

The gash on Arthur’s face is having blood trickle down his chin, neck, and eventually drop onto the road, leaving a trail for others to come find us.

On the other side of the street we enter to a town. It’s a town I’ve been to before with Cathy when she was looking at apartments a while back. At the time it was a hot spot with a very active nightlife. Now, it looks like many of the stores and homes have been abandoned.

Still, the familiar lets out shrilling howl. Arthur, Zack and I duck as though the sound is going to pierce right through our skulls.

“Behold your Hurricane Pack!” It cries out. Just then, some wolves peek out of boarded-up buildings. Their eyes filled with fear. It dawns on me that this town isn’t abandoned, it’s taken over. “Every step they take, they are closer to being completely under our control,”

The familiar laughs and it’s like nails on a chalkboard. No other wolves make a peep in reply. They continue staring on, looking like they’ve completely lost their fighting nature. They’re more like fearful pups that have been neglected. Then I realize that maybe they have been.

Aside from Arthurs speech, the Hurricane Pack has not been out in the public. Not like when the orphanage burned down and we went and lived among our kind. Instead, we’ve been running back and forth between vampire territory trying to save our family which of course comes first, but I would be lying if I said I stopped to even think about our citizens in all this mess.

With no Alpha back to defend its people, the gammas are going to not just be killed by the familiars, but subject to their control

Just as the guilt starts to weigh on me, three wolves catch my attention. At first, I skim over them, then instantly my eyes are drawn back. Three wolves, the only wolves standing outside of any building and looking just as proud as the familiar who boasts about our capture.

They’re the same wolves that came running up to Arthur outside the motel. It was dark then with only the old-fashioned streetlamps illuminating their faces, but now I can see in the light of day that they are not wolves. They’re more familiar with wolf-like appearances.

We were being followed. Of course we were being followed. That’s probably how this bigger familiar, the leader of the pack I assume, knew where we were. Its minions probably reported back. We were trapped long before we even realized it.