Chapter3

#Chapter3

All those terms, all the slurs, they were all noises and sounds that refused to register in his head. Their intent hit home, wounding deep, but their meaning was lost along the way.

/"Open the windows, Eric,/" Toby said, turning to face front-and-centre, yanking his seatbelt across his shoulder. /"I can smell it./"

Eric obliged.

Aiden knew they were just being cruel, but his cheeks ignited all the same. The worst part was that he couldn't say for sure there wasn't truth to it. The acidic stench of vomit still circled his nostrils, overwhelming his senses, and as the splatter had ended up on his clothes, he was willing to bet the duo up front could detect the odour too.

A few more snide remarks were passed, mainly by the red-head, and then the engine ramped to life and a succulent vibration jarred the seat beneath him. Dark-and-terrifying pulled off like Hell was on his tail, driving close to the curb on the opposing side of the road and dousing the lingering hoodlums with the water that had pooled into a deep puddle in the centre of the road.

The laws of the road obviously didn't apply to them, and after sliding left and right across the seats, his nails biting into the leather to try and root himself in place, he snatched up one of the seatbelts bound himself in. He closed his eyes. Tucked his head between his knees. It distracted him from the way dark-and-terrifying was taking corners on two wheels and breaking every speed law known to man, but it didn't do anything to settle the internal war.

He tried not thinking about it; the harder he tried not to think about it, the more he thought about it. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he was dying.

/" — my father isn't happy about it,/" dark-and-terrifying was saying. Toby had entertained himself by turning around to throw a few more slurs, but after the first ten minutes into the drive, he'd appeared to lose interest and turned back around. How fun could it be to insult somebody who couldn't speak back, after all?

He'd zoned back out, but something they'd said had caught his attention. A word that had his mind firing up. They were werewolves. He was sure of it. He knew they existed. Knew that Marcus dealt with them from time to time. It would explain their foreign scent. But he kept listening just to be sure.

/"Can't blame him./" Toby sniffed gingerly. /"Something like that ain't good for the status quo. He's gonna have all the rogues thinking they can walk around throwing out challenges./"

Eric grunted. /"Most rogues wouldn't stand a chance against an Alpha. So either the Northridge Alpha was weaker than we gave credit for, or the rumours 'bout the stray were true./" He paused to curse as the lights ahead turned red. Didn't stop him from ploughing through them all the same. Aiden found himself grateful that it was a Sunday morning and the roads were pretty clear.

/"What rumours?/"

/"There's a few./" Another corner taken at fifty miles an hour. He swore he saw his life flash before his eyes. /"But the one I heard was that the mutt that challenged him was his illegitimate son. Would make sense. Motive's there and would explain how he had the strength to take on an Alpha./"

It as good as confirmed that his theory was correct, but it didn't help him understand the mechanics of what they were talking about. He tried to piece together a picture, but the more he tried, the more scattered his brain felt, and he gave up when spikes of agony stabbed behind his eyes and against the wall of his skull every time he tried to retain their words.

The drive smoothed out once they broke away from the main city and hit the backroad lanes. Fewer corners. Just open, winding roads and not another car in sight. Fields levelled out either side of them, a vast backdrop of yellow, dying grass that seemed to become one with the miserable sky, and the rain had picked up the pace, getting heavier and heavier until it tinkered against the windscreen.

There had been a point, before they'd left the city, that he'd considered opening the door and bolting. But then common sense had hit home and he'd scrapped the idea. Human's hated him. Something about him rubbed them up the wrong way. Maybe it was his muteness. It had unsettled some folk in the past. Or maybe it was more than that, an internal sense of self-preservation that recognized that he wasn't one of them. Not completely. Living back among them, being at their mercy again the way he had been when he was a child lost in their foster system . . . yeah, the idea lost its appeal real quick.

He'd considered finding his way back to Marcus. He'd always protected him. Made it so he never had to even leave the house and deal with the humans he lived among if he didn't want to. But that idea was even worse than the first.

It had him willing to take his chances with the savages rather than head back to the man who'd so easily betrayed him, that had sold him out like their relationship had meant nothing. But just because his brain had teamed up with stubborn pride, didn't mean his heart hadn't stepped into a bear trap.

The roads eventually became thinner, transitioning to dirt paths that broke through a clearing of trees. The driver slowed enough to avoid an up-close introduction with the trunk of a tree, but still flew by with enough force that the low-hanging branches that smacked against the window struck like thunder.

/"Maybe we can just drop it in the swamp and tell your daddy that Matthew offered nothing./"

/"Don't be cruel, Toby./" Those icy blue eyes met Aiden's in the mirror again. Flashed another cold smile. /"The gators don't deserve the indigestion it'd cause them./"

Didn't take an Einstein to figure out he was the 'it', and it didn't take long to see the swamp they were talking about to reveal itself. Slowing down to a crawl, the cover of trees compacting tighter, forming a close-knit web, the reduced speed of the vehicle was enough for him to spy the large body of water that gleamed in the distance. Trees surrounded it, and a small fence hugged the dirt path, as though trying to keep those not familiar with the terrain from taking a nice little splash.

He didn't see any alligators, but his stomach knotted in terror. Marcus had said werewolves were complete barbarians. And right now, he believed it. He didn't want to meet the driver's father. Couldn't imagine how somebody could be worse than him.

But the thing about life was that it didn't give a damn what you may or may not have wanted, and as the Hummer cleared the trees, breaking out into a kingdom of high walls and mahoosive iron gates, he knew that he was about to find out first hand.