This Might Get Interesting

Layleen

Rogues?

I try to push myself up from the floor of the car, but a sharp pain makes me wince. Robert quickly pushes me back down with a firm hand, his grip steady as he urges me to stay still. "Don't move," he commands in a low, rumbling voice. "I'll go check what's going on."

I reluctantly comply, my head bowed to the floor. Robert shoots a glance at the driver and nods. "Stay with the girls, and fight them off if something happens."

He leaps out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and I shrink into the seat, my body trembling as every nerve on edge screams in anticipation of the unknown.

There were only five cars leaving the Dark Wood pack house, including this one. Now we're surrounded, which offers some protection, but rogues are known for attacking in waves—especially when they know they're up against an alpha.

"The Diamond Claw," a female voice cuts through my thoughts, and I glance up, my brows furrowing as I catch Sheryl squinting at something outside the window.

Her sudden willingness to speak in my presence surprises me, but I suppose the adrenaline rush has a way of breaking down barriers.

"Excuse me?" I blink a few times, slowly climbing back into my seat.

Sheryl shoots me a brief, irritated glance before turning her attention back to the outside. "The rogues," she mutters quietly, her voice tight with concern. "I caught a glimpse of one of the attackers. He was wearing a claw-shaped trinket around his neck. That's their signature. We're fucked."

I swallow hard as Sheryl's words settle in. I've heard of the Diamond Claw before. Hell, everyone has. They're like the outlaws among all the other packs—ruthless and merciless. Their only goal is to kill. They don't care about money or power like other wolves; no, they are driven solely by a thirst for blood and chaos. I can feel it in my bones. Sheryl's right. We're screwed.

My heart hammers in my chest, the fear of impending disaster beginning to strangle me from the inside. The noise outside grows louder—screeches, snarls, the clash of claws and fangs, the sickening sound of flesh tearing, bones snapping...

I glance back at Sheryl, her face unnervingly calm in the midst of it all. That only makes my concern deepen.

I guess being the alpha's mistress teaches you how to maintain composure, even when your whole world is falling apart. I envy her ability to remain so controlled.

Her nails dig into the skin of her crossed arms, leaving deep indentations, as though she's holding herself together with sheer force. This is the only sign of her real emotions—this and the growing scent of her pheromones, thick and sharp, as her body tenses with barely contained fear.

Just a little longer, and she might shift too.

Suddenly, the noise outside stops. The car plunges into an eerie silence. The driver's eyes dart around, scanning for any sign of movement, his body taut with alertness. My heart lodges in my throat, and I notice Sheryl's eyes flick to me, her frown deepening as she hears the erratic beat of my heart cutting through the stillness.

"Why... is it so quiet?" I ask quietly, but even though I control the sound of my voice, even a whisper sounds unbelievably loud. 

The driver quickly takes off his black jacket, preparing to shift just in case. "I don't see anyone," he whispers, "not even the rogues."

I want to say something but before I can even open my mouth, the door on the driver's side of the car swings open, and a huge hand grabs the man by the collar of his white shirt, instantly dragging him out of the car, his screaming cut short as a large brown wolf digs its fangs into his neck, sending his head flying in the air. 

I'm frozen solid now, I don't even know if I'm still alive. I must be––I can still hear the loud ringing in my ears and the distant growling of a beast. That terrifying stillness inside the car is crashing down on me, and I pray to the Moon Goddess that I will be sent to her fast.

But I don't think that will happen. 

A loud, scratching sound tears the air, and both Sheryl and I shiver as if pulled out of ice-cold water. Claws. Someone is dragging claws over the side of our car. My side of the car. 

My breathing is ragged, and my throat tightens again as if a strong, invisible hand is squeezing my neck. The clawing stops, and before I can even gasp in fear, someone tears the door off and throws it on the ground. A peal of loud laughter rings through the air like thunder, followed by a sudden victorious howling, and before I can get back to my senses, I see a face grinning right in front of me. 

"Well, well, well. And what do we have here?"

Sheryl recoils. I hear her banging her back against the opposite car door, but I still can't move a single muscle in my body. 

The man leans closer in, his entire upper body is now in the car, and he keeps grinning, his sharp fangs lengthening slightly at the sight of his frightened prey. "You ladies must be quite something if you're traveling in the alpha's car."

He licks his lips, his hungry dark eyes roaming all over my stiff body before they finally shift to Sheryl. She gulps, and I wince at the sound of her voice. "We belong to the Dark Wood pack. Touch us, and Alpha Dion will come after you."

Another peal of laughter seeps inside, but the man in front of us does not seem to find it funny. "Alpha Dion, huh?" His left hand moves behind his back, and I hear him flick his fingers. "I think this might get interesting now."

With that, he slams his hand right into my neck, and the last thing I remember is the brief wave of pain followed by nothingness.