The Wolves ✓

7; key

Tristan signalled Billy with a nod of his head.

Billy and the rest dispersed both upstairs and into the rooms on the ground floor. Freya watched them, anxiously. She felt violated and insulted by the way they'd forced themselves in.

"Where's the witch's room?" Tristan asked.

"There," she pointed, slowly.

He walked into the room and Freya followed him. The bed hadn't been made and Greg's clothes were still on the chair near the closet.

"There's nothing in here," Freya said, annoyed.

"Well, then there's no need to worry, is there?" Tristan said, walking into the connected bathroom.

Moments later, he came out with a cheeky grin. Freya looked at him in confusion until she saw what was in his hand.

He was swinging her black sports bra by the strap on his index finger. "Didn't take you for a sports bra kind of girl," he said, looking at her with a smirk.

Freya's face flushed in embarrassment and she charged at him, snatching it away. "Get out," she muttered and lightly pushed him out of the bathroom.

"Alpha," Billy said from the top of the staircase. "Might want to see this."

"Alpha?" Greg whispered to Freya.

Freya didn't respond, still angry about his earlier comment.

Tristan smiled at Freya as he brushed past her and left the room.

"The frame was already on the floor so I think that they already know."

"The key?" Tristan asked.

"Found nothing yet."

"So," Tristan said, walking downstairs. "Sorry, I don't know your name."

"Freya," she said, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Right, Freya. I'll be needing the key for the upstairs- uh, safe," he said, leaning against the wall.

"I don't have it."

Greg looked between them, nervously.

"Well, are you going to tell me that you didn't know about the safe, either?"

"I knew about the safe, I found it last night. However," she paused. "I didn't find a key."

Tristan clenched his jaw until he finally nodded. "Is that why you were up in the tree?"

"What?"

Tristan walked down the stairs and towards Freya. "Well, I doubt you were out there paying respect to the dead. Correct me if I'm wrong but I'd say you were looking for something."

"Maybe I was but I didn't find anything."

"I call bullshit!" Billy yelled, following Tristan downstairs and stopping in front of Freya.

"Calm down," Tristan said, his eyes on Freya.

"Empty your pockets," he said. "Or I'll do it for you."

Freya glanced at Billy before turning the out the pockets of her hoodie and then the front pockets of her jeans. Tristan nodded, "Alright."

Freya sighed in relief when they walked away from her and continued their search. "Why's the basement blocked?" Billy asked from the corridor.

"Don't move that!" Freya yelled, running into the corridor.

"Whatcha hiding down there?" Billy teased, trying to move the table.

"Don't!" she yelled. "There's one those things down there."

"What?"

"The things that come in the smoke. One of them broke in through the basement window because it's not warded off."

Tristan walked to them, "It's down there?"

"Yeah."

"I see," he said.

There was a long silence after which Freya felt something slide on her backside.

Before she could react, Tristan's hand slid into her back pocket and pulled out the key.

"How dare you," Freya spun around, reaching for the key.

"Nice," he said to himself before looking at Freya, surprised. "Oh, I meant the key, not your ass. Well, I mean it's fine-"

Freya cut him off, "Do you have any manners at all?"

"I could ask you the same," he said. "Didn't anyone teach you that lying is wrong."

Freya glared at him.

Tristan tossed the key over to Billy who caught it with one hand.

Minutes later Billy returned with a journal and a few envelopes. "You were right, Tristan. The bitch left some of her ideas on this smoke shit."

Freya was fuming.

Tristan took it from him, "Great."

"Well," he said, glancing at the Freya and Greg. "We'll be leaving now, thanks for your cooperation."

"You've turned this house to hell to find a damn journal?" she said as the men started to leave.

"Sweetheart, nothing is more valuable than a witch's journal."

"Wait," Freya said in the doorway.

"That journal, it could have some information on charms," she said. "Are you seriously going to steal it?"

Tristan stopped, leaning against the wall and looked at her.

"It's not stealing if we're the ones who found it," Tristan said.

"You're an asshole, you know that? All of you are," Freya said, angrily.

Tristan clicked his tongue and glanced at the floor before looking back at her.

"And here I thought you were going to ask for my number."

Freya resisted rolling her eyes. Who did he think he was?

"One question," Freya said instead.

"Yes?"

"Are there any survivors? Any groups of humans that you've seen nearby?" she asked, swallowing her pride.

"Humans?"

"Yeah, is there somewhere they live or something?" Freya asked, hopefully.

Tristan looked into the distance, mentally estimating how long they had before the smoke got too thick, giving Freya a clear view of his jaw line.

"I'll say this," he said. "You two are the most recent humans I've met in a couple of months."

This hit Freya hard, worse than she thought it could affect her. Tristan noticed the flicker of hope vanish from her eyes within seconds.

"Well, good luck against the smoke, Mr. Tristan," Freya said and without waiting for a reply, she locked the door and called Greg from the corridor.

"Greg, grab the paint and brushes. We need to paint the charms back and fast."

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