Page 46 of Locke

I took a step back, my breath catching in my throat as I beheld the immense inferno before me. The scorching heat licked at my face, and the acrid smell of burning wood filled the air. My heart thundered in my chest, echoing in my ears like a pounding drum. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, trickling down my temple. Small fires were manageable, their flickering flames often captivating my attention. But this colossal blaze had a power that transported me to haunting memories, places I desperately longed to forget.

I stepped back, my arms covering my face. Hawke shouted for Sizzle to cease the fire—his parlor trick when I am not around. Sizzle’s face morphed into horror when he saw me backing away.

Gasping for air, my breath came out in ragged bursts, the sound echoing in the room. My heart pounded relentlessly, as if trying to escape the confines of my chest. Trembling, I continued to retreat, my body instinctively seeking distance. Despite the overwhelming fear, I summoned the strength to turn my gaze towards the door, desperately hoping to find my mate standing there. But, to my dismay, she was nowhere to be seen. The door stood ajar, allowing the cool summer breeze to seep in.

Fuck.

“Shit!” I let out a roar, my voice reverberating through the crowd as frustration consumed me. Gripping my hair tightly, I felt the strands slipping through my fingers. With a surge of anger, I clenched my fist and slammed it forcefully onto the sturdy oak table laden with glasses and plates. The resounding thud echoed in the corner, mixing with the sound of shattering glass and the clattering of dishes as they crashed down onto the cold, hard floor.

The music went silent as everyone turned to look at me. I could feel their disappointment and their confusion. But, in that moment, the only thing I could think about was tracking down Emm, to be close to her.

I bolted out the door, not caring about the shattered remains of the wooden table behind me. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as I made a beeline for the exit, my wolf’s senses heightening to track Emm’s scent.

Outside, the night air was heavy with the anticipation of rain, carrying with it a distinct earthy scent. It stood in stark contrast to the hazy, booze-infused atmosphere of the bar. And Emm’s scent was slowly fading.

I heard the rumble of Emm’s truck roaring to life, its engine growling like a beast awakening. In a heartbeat, I sprinted towards it, my muscles tensed for the run. With each stride, the cement beneath my feet scraped against my heel.

But, as I surged forward, a cascade of fiery images and anguished screams crashed upon me, assaulting my sight and ears. The screeching sound of her tires turned to screams as she departed. My vision blurred, and before me, materialized the haunting figures of the pack that had once betrayed me.

Overwhelmed and paused in the middle of the road, I felt the comforting presence of Grim and Hawke, which was reassuring anchor amidst the chaos.

“Let’s get him back to his room,” I heard Grim say over the screams.

The fire roared in my ear, the screams for help, the apologies that came too late, the sin that needed to be taken to hell; it all came rushing back, along with my wolf screaming at me to take what was ours.

Chapter Eighteen

Locke

Ifound myself back in a time I didn’t want to revisit. It often comes in the form of nightmares while I sleep. I’m always in the foulest of moods those days when I wake, but this time—I couldn’t control the movie playing in front of me.

Surrounding me, there were rustic cabins and humble huts, forming what appeared to be a quaint village at first glance. Some of the dwellings were engulfed in raging fires, their flames dancing wildly in the air, while others now stood as mere remnants, resembling nothing more than empty husks. The scene was filled with the crackling of burning wood, the acrid scent of smoke, and a lingering sense of devastation.

Surrounded by thick smoke, I sensed the scorching heat of the raging flames grazing my fur. The pungent odor of burned timber and flesh overwhelmed the air, suffocating me. With eachbeat, my heart throbbed in my chest. What was left of the pack stared at me in horror—their faces pale, their bodies burned, broken and no longer healing. I observed the ruins before me, a harrowing sight that instilled fear in those around me.

They all deserved it, well most of them, except for the ones I let go free. These wolves deserved to suffer. I felt it with the very core of my being.

I stumbled forward, my eyes darting around, scanning the remaining wolves concealed in the shadows. The once bustling village now lay in ruins, engulfed in an eerie silence that hung over it like a heavy shroud. As I cautiously navigated through the wreckage, my foot abruptly collided with a small metal object, causing me to teeter on the brink of falling to the ground.

Looking down, I saw a glint of metal buried in the ashes. With trembling claws, I brushed away the debris to reveal a small pendant, its surface scorched but still recognizable. It was hers - a token of our bond that had obviously meant nothing to that whore.

I held the pendant in my paw and bent the metal, letting it topple to the ground.

The Blood Rose Shadow Pack was vicious. If pups appeared weak when they were born, the pack disposed of them, throwing them into the forest where wild animals feasted upon them. Any sickly or old wolves were shunned to the edges of the pack, the first to be eaten if there was ever a breach. The elders did not rest. They still worked weaving baskets, cooking for the warriors, and the healthier ones often hunted or gathered.

Our pack had no time to take care of the weak. If any could not take care of the pack or themself, then they would be dismissed and have to find another pack.

In those days, it was hard to find a willing pack to take any member of Blood Rose. Parents had instilled viciousness in their children. They trained day in and day out and fought fortheir right in line for rations. The best fighter got the bigger portions, the best meals. Most parents encouraged brawls with the siblings to teach them to fight for themselves, to show who was the stronger sibling.

All were taught to obey the gamma, beta, and most of all, the alpha. The alpha was law, giving out duties, punishments and unjustifiable deaths, to his circle. That didn’t mean that the alpha didn’t do a lot of the work himself.

I doubt the king of the shifters understood what went on, but as long as the alpha put out the strongest warriors, maybe he didn’t care.

These wolves were the most untamed compared to the majority of the realm. But, they were the strongest, most cunning and the largest in size, second to the King of the shifter’s guards. Although they did not get along with others, the alpha and the king taught them to obey them alone.

You would think everyone would want to leave a loveless pack such as this, and you would find that to be wrong. Wolves love power. They received praise for their aggression and were constantly tested on their strength and training.

The king would often take the strongest from the Blood Rose pack to use in his armies, for rogue missions. Wolves were treated better with the king, and everyone wanted a taste of being next to the strongest of all the shifters.

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