Page 5 of Wolf's Fate
Savage and brutal.
In others, he was a wolf. I had never seen him when he was shifted, but as I sketched, I knew the gray wolf was him. Blood dripped from his maw, his eyes narrowed in a mix of anger and loathing.
Was it self-loathing? Had he been attacked? The casualties were high, and though I knew little of their world, I doubted it was so densely populated that they could afford such losses.
The men who witnessed my drawing were silent as Doc took scene after scene off me. The shaman had seen as much as he could, and once during my frenzied production, he hadrequested to taste my blood. He’d asked again before he left, and by then, I was too spent to protest.
Or ask what my blood told him that my sketches could not.
No one answered that question when I asked it the next day. There was a lot that Cannon and his men didn’t say.
Maybe they couldn’t? Maybe they didn’t know? But I didn’t believe that. The alpha, Cannon, knew. I saw the truth in his eyes, and I was certain he knew everything—he just chose not to tell me.
Which left me with notebooks, sketch pads, canvases—anything I could draw on—filled with scenes that offered no answers, only adding to my growing list of unanswered questions.
I’d also learned not to ask. I wasn’t scared of them. I thought of the large alpha, who had stepped in front of me and told Caleb to go. Cannon was definitely intimidating. Like I had with the shaman, once I opened my eyes and paid attention to what was in front of me, I could sense the power of the alpha.
Doc had told me it was something they called Will. Apparently, an alpha could use their Will and make a shifter do something. Like compulsion but without the brainwashing, although they did remove the element of free will. Which was kind of freaking terrifying, but I’d kept my thoughts to myself on that one.
Despite that though, I didn’t feel fear with them. I was slightly uncomfortable, I wouldn’t lie, but I wasn’t there against my will.
I’d reached home, and checking my watch, I grinned at my straight-up twenty minutes. Yeah, I could say what I wantedabout the shifters or Doc, but without him, I wouldn’t have been walking home in twenty minutesandstill feel fresh and fit enough to turn right around and walk back.
As I opened my front door, the thought of turning around and walking back was exactly what I wanted to do. Instead, I took a step into the chaos that used to be my home.
The sound of the door snicking on the latch made me jump, but it didn’t have the power to tear my eyes from the broken and torn furniture in my living room.
Walking a few steps broke my trance, and I pulled my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. Unwrapping my scarf from around my neck, I dialed 9-1-1 and immediately hung up. I didn’t know anyone who would do this. I knew that wasn’t the point, but given what I had been drawing recently, I was already picking my way carefully over the mess to my studio.
A part of me wished I hadn’t. Everything was destroyed. Sketchbooks were ripped and torn, and canvases had been sliced viciously with knives.
Or claws.
With trembling fingers, I pressed the contact button on Royce’s name.
“Willow?”
“My house has been broken into.” Saying it out loud made it real, and I felt the tears spill over. “Everything”—my breath hitched—“everything is ripped, torn or broken. I haven’t been into my bedroom,” I admitted in a whisper.
“You haven’t checked every room?” he demanded roughly, and I understood what he had just implied—they could still be here. I heard him speak to someone else, Ned probably. Theywouldn’t be home yet. I couldn’t hear what he said over the thudding in my ears. My heart was close to bursting with fear.
“My bedroom and the bathrooms,” I suddenly remembered to speak. I was pretty sure Royce asked me what rooms I hadn’t been in.
“Luna, Willow!” he scolded. “That’s half your house!”
I was nodding in agreement, pointless because he couldn’t see me, but I was completely numb. “I’m calling Caleb.”
“Will—”
I cut him off when I hung up. Still unmoving, I searched for his name and pressed the call button.
When the automated voice told me the number was no longer in service, I hung up and dialed again. I did it three more times before my brain finally sent the message to my fingers to stop wasting my time.
Part of me knew I needed to open the bedroom door and see what they had done to it. Part of me knew that I would never unsee it, and I wasn’t sure that I could handle it.
So I checked the bathroom first. Thankfully, my cabinet and my shower curtain were the only things damaged. The cabinet wasn’t even damaged, it was only my guest towels and toilet paper that were strewn about.
Closing the mirrored cabinet door, I caught sight of my reflection. What a difference a home invasion made. I’d been smiling, confident,happywith myself when I walked home. Now I looked haggard. My eyes were wide with fear, my skin whiter than pale.