Page 7 of Claimed By the Alpha Pack

Not long after Hunter left for his shift, I travel down to the neighbor’s house and drop our go bags into the car’s trunk. Fear rules part of me, fear of him forcing himself on me. I’m terrified of these unidentified creatures killing me or my baby. Heading back up the hill, I use the dirt road and the mud that’s there to cover my scent. Our cabin is in view and I can’t help but feel nothing but pure fear. My escape plan to leave this hellhole is mostly solidified.

Quickly, I run across the open expanse of the front yard and race up the stairs, slamming the door shut and locking it behind me. I lean my back against the door, trying to catch my breath. Thankfully canines don’t have thumbs to turn doorknobs. Pacing the house, I go over my mental packing list, bow, fishing pole, clothing, rations, diapers, formula, just in case. My plan to go off the grid for a while means I will have to hunt or fish for my food. Archery and fishing had always been my solace, my zen, the one thing in my life I still had control of. Those are the two things there was no way Hunter could ever take from me.

The hours drone on and I keep my daughter strapped to my chest for most of the day. I figure if I have to make a run for it, Ashina is secure and my hands are free. Childishly, I have a slingshot in my back pocket and silver-coated orbs. There’s multiple books on skin walkers, each recounting different ways to kill them. Whatever this creature is, getting a face full of metal balls won’t make anything happy.

The sun sets and the sound of a car’s tires crunching on the gravel in the driveway alerts me to Hunter’s arrival. My heart speeds up as the adrenaline hits my blood. Fear fused with anxiety gives me an influx of energy. My fight-or-flight instincts primed and ready to fire in either direction. Holding a couple of metal orbs in my hand, I approach the kitchen where the back door is unlocked and my path downhill clear.

Huffing, Hunter enters the house. The heavy slaps of bare feet hitting the wood floor catches my attention. That’s not normal. He never takes his shoes and socks off. Turning to look back towards the living-room is when I see it. Hunter’s shirt is torn and covered in blood. As my eyes trail up to his face, there’s a strange glow in his eyes.

A golden glow … staring openly his irises and pupils are twice their normal size. There’s no white left in his eyes. They don’t look human. An inhuman growl escapes his lips as he flexes his fingers at his side. The right side of his lip curls up and his teeth are different. His canine seems longer and thicker than normal. My heart shudders in my chest as realization hits me.

Backing up quickly, my sudden movement makes Hunter’s head jerk to the side as he growls. He’s the monster … He’s the killer… FUCK… Jumping backward into the kitchen, I slam the door shut. His fists hit the wood, shattering it. My daughter, who’s still strapped to my chest, cries. Against better judgement, I stick the pacifier in her mouth to soothe her. Reaching into my back pocket, I grab the slingshot out and load the metal ball, waiting.A cold sweat rolls down my temples as my adrenaline surges, making my hands shake.

Two more hits and his fist breaks through the thin wood. I pull back the ball holding the sling shot aimed at the opening. The minute his face comes into view, I let the metal ball fly. The wet thunk and then the louder sound of his body hitting the floor makes me freeze in my tracks, listening for movement. The pounding of my heart in my chest drowns out all of the sound around me. I stare at the hole in the door for a beat too long before leaping into action.

Grabbing my purse, I pull my phone out and dump it on the table, then bolt out the back door. Running for my life was never high on my list of shit to do. Bolting across the road and down the hill towards the neighbors’ yard, I hold my daughter tightly to keep from jostling her too much. I see my escape vehicle in sight. I get excited and make the mistake of running faster, then trying to stop. Sliding, I spin my body, shielding my daughter from hitting the car. Luckily, only my hip impacts the driver’s side door of the car.

“Are you okay, Gracie?” The next sentence dies on my neighbor’s lips when he sees the state I am in. Terror is written all over my face. “I’ll get my keys.” His snapped statement knocks some sense into me and I slide into the car and buckle my daughter into her seat. Carl comes running out, keys in hand as he rips open the door to the beast of an eighties Bronco he drives. Waving me on head of him, I start down his driveway. He lined the tires of his truck with the tracks my escape vehicle was making. As a bounty hunter, Carl knows how to avoid being tracked and he was using every trick in his arsenal to make sure the two of us were safe.

The white knuckle grip I have on my steering wheel is making my hands ache. We drive in tandem for almost seven miles until we hit the pavement of the highway. Once on the interstate, we pull over and say our goodbyes. I told him what I saw, and he called his wife immediately. Hunter’s squad car was still in the driveway, but that means nothing. Carl hands me an envelope of getaway money he and his wife had put aside for me in secret. I want to cry and hug him. But knowing that Hunter was a monster, a werewolf like the ones in my novel, I knew better than to hug him.The fear of leaving my unique scent on him and making him a target is the only thing that stopped me.

Carl made sure that I was safely back on the road before pulling an illegal u-turn to head home. I watch him for several heartbeats in the rearview before pulling out onto the highway to make the five-hour drive to Grams’ house.

About two hours into the trip, I needed to stop and feed Ashina. While she fed, I sip at my milkshake as I powered up my burner phone. Without hesitation, I call Grams and wait for her to answer. I knew it was after midnight and she was probably asleep, but she needed to know I was en route to her house. “Gracie! Gracie, are you okay?” Panic and fear laced my grandmother’s normally steady voice.

Fighting back the tears that threatened to bubble over, I breathe in deeply. “Yeah, barely. Hunter is the monster that’s on the rampage. He’s the killer…” Swallowing hard, I gather up my courage and blurt out my next statement. “I think I killed him.”

My words hang there in the silence before Grams speaks again. “Good … The bastard deserved it.”

“Good? Are you out of your mind, Grams? He’s a monster and I think I killed him.” I whisper-yell the words into the phone as my eyes dart around the parking lot, making sure no one is close enough to hear me.

Laughing, my grandmother is almost in hysterics. “If he’s a skin walker unless you cut his head off, he’ll wake up eventually.”

“What the fuck is so funny? How is that funny?” Killing off my milkshake, I move to the side of the car and slide my daughter back into her seat and buckle her in.

The more Grams chuckles, the more irritated I become. Then again, her laughter kinda settles my nerves. “What did you use, your bow?” Grams’ tone got serious, and I hesitated, almost ashamed of my answer.

“You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“Try me, little one.”

“I shot him with the slingshot you got me two Christmases ago.”

Gram’s laughter was infectious, and I started cackling right along with her. “You know, the story of David and Goliath was just a story, right?” Grams can’t keep the jovial tone out of her voice.

Turning the key, I start the car and put the phone on speaker. “I know, Grams. It’s what I had at hand at the moment. I already packed everything else in the car.” Shrugging my shoulders, I check my mirrors before pulling out of the parking spot to resume my journey.

“Makes sense. Depending on where you hit him, it can be a few days before he’s up and about,” Gram’s says matter-of-factly.

“How do you know so much?” Yawning out my answer and I shake my head, trying to clear it to drive.

“That’s a story for when you get here. For now, just remember, not all the legends are just stories.” Her tone didn’t give any room for argument or questioning.

Taking Grandma’s words into consideration I came up with more questions then answers. I always wondered why Grams told me these stories of wolves and cats and bears taking human form. Most of them were stories told by indigenous legends. “It’s hard to believe and even harder to swallow. If the legends are true, the world is more dangerous than it appears.” My voice strains as I try to verbalize what I’m feeling.How many monsters walk among us?

“How many more miles, sweetheart?” Gram’s tone softens as she tries to distract me.

Glancing at the gps briefly then back to the dark road ahead of me. “Less than a hundred. A little over an hour and a half, in theory.” Sighing as a different fear envelopes my heart. A new start on the horizon and falling back into a past that I can’t remember.

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