Star-Crossed Enemies ✔️

Chapter 2

I always thought about Death.

Will I have a quick death? Will I suffer? Will a werewolf kill me?

That was always the most likely case.

I have trained my whole life to fight them and hunt them. They were vile creatures that enjoyed praying on the weak, and it was our job to hunt them and kill them. To keep the human population safe. We were their only line of defence. Nobody else knew they existed. They have kept hidden in the forest, rarely being spotted, but we knew they were out there, and one by one we started learning their secrets. Their strengths and weaknesses.

Silver was the most lethal.

It hurt them bad. If touched by a werewolf, the silver would burn them, but ingested, it weakens the wolf to a point where they were unable to turn into their beasts, making them weak, vulnerable.

They had packs, we learned. A hierarchy of a sort. The Alphas were the leaders and the Betas were the equivalent of their seconds. All the wolves from the pack responded to them. There were several packs spread around the world. The organization managed to find some of them, but we knew there were more.

Either way, I always wondered about my death, and I guess I always thought I would die fighting. I would get killed in a hunt or something, not stuck in a prison for days, wondering how the beasts will kill me. Will they slash my throat with their claws? Bite me with their big teeth? Will they be in their human form when they do it? Or will I have to face the wolf? Either way, I knew I would die, and I welcome death with open arms. I knew no rescue team would be located to extract us, it was too dangerous, and I was conformed by it. I will happily give my life for the cause before spilling any of the hunter's secrets.

Lupis Morte Filii

That was our moto. Death to The Children of the Moon. We dedicated our lives to hunting them and killing them, and there will come a time where our mission will prevail and our sacrifice will not be for nothing.

Sometimes I wonder how my father is doing? Did he mourn me? Did he know that I was alive? Was he making plans to avenge me?

Would he miss me?

Would he even notice I was gone?

And perhaps the most dangerous question in my mind...

Would he even care?

All my life he has dedicated his life to the Organization, putting it above his family on numerous occasions. His son died and he just jump into work the very next day. Never once did I see him mourn him since he has been gone. Never once did he offer me a shoulder to cry on after Dean's death, he just barely acknowledges me every time we are in the same room. And when he does notice me, he always finds something to criticize.

Oliver was always father's favourite, he was always proud of him, and he made sure to show it to him when they were together. Me? That was a complete different case. Father never wanted a daughter, he wanted sons to carry on his legacy. So I did everything I could to make him proud. I trained harder than anyone of the recruits, I studied hard, always having top marks in my evaluations and went through all of that never once complaining, all so that I could become a hunter my father was proud of.

Not sure how proud of me he would be right now, I thought as I am pushed into a van and forced to take a seat. The bag placed in my head allowed very little light, so there was no way for me to decipher where I was or devise exit strategies. My hands are bound together and so are my legs. I couldn't move. I couldn't see. I could only count on my other senses to get a grip on my location. I knew I was in a van, and from what I can hear, so are two? other hunters, I don't know who. They were moving us, but to where?