Her Majesty // Mikaelson

32 Road Kill

Song: Monsters by Ruelle

I decide to drive to the Bayou. Kaitlyn wasn't part of the rouge wolves here that were left of the Crescents. But my best guess, and Lance's, was this was her next stop. Zetrov was slowly taking over New Orleans. That witch Valerie was not the first and most certainly not the last.

A group of alpha-less wolves would be looking for a better life. One that Zetrov is no doubt ready to offer. These particular wolves best the others. They can control their forms, true werewolves.

So I need to get to them first.

I shut the door to my car, which was off onto the shoulder of the road. The car was actually Bastian's, but he needed to loose a few pounds so I stole his keys. I've more ground to cover anyway.

My feet hit the soft ground of dirt. The moon was high, and the crisp air whipped through my hair to the point I was annoyed. Except the darkness around me did hide my unruly curls. I embrace the mad mess of fire on my head, running my fingers through my long locks and making them even fluffier.

I lick my dry lips, my tongue tasting the fresh air, though only a few miles away, it already seemed freer from pollution. Perhaps it was the trees surrounding me, or the swampy smell that clung to my clothes as I walked deeper into the Bayou, towards the river.

It was a loud night. The sound of owls and critters scurrying about and calling for prey seemed to fill the air with life itself. Giving it a heartbeat, a life source and there was something beautiful in the night that I took a fleeting moment to admire. Because this was the Calm before the Storm.

I'm deep in the Bayou when other larger movements in the trees catch my attention. I could feel several curious pairs of eyes on me. I tilt my head back, knowing if I pissed off what was rest of the pack there was a slim chance Klaus would jump to heal me.

Despite the fact we shared one not-to-be-spoken-of night together.

Not that I cared. I don't waste emotions on things like regret. Really, it happened, and now it was done. Sure, I never expected that 24 hours later I'd be trudging through the mud that which paw prints were pressed into.

I was in enemy territory. Yet, I couldn't die from a wolf bite now. And the only weapon that can kill me I already tucked away into the safest place I know. That gave me the courage to face the trees, and make my voice heard. "The Crescents were once considered royalty." I begin, sweeping my gaze around the dark trees that seemed vacant of any living thing. I knew better.

"Now, I know what happened to your Alpha, Jackson." I purse my lips, daring myself to go on as a low growl is heard and then silenced again. "Trust me when I say I'm not a stranger to the violence Tristen De Martel brings. And then, when you needed her most, Hayley abandoned you." I shake my head, chuckling slightly at myself. "The once high and mighty Crescent Pack fell to being victims by Marcellus​. The boy who made himself into his father's image." My voice rises, the Scottish Melody floating through the air like a lullaby. "Then, their own Queen stepped down. No one is on your side. And even now, as I speak out, a group of Supernatural, calling themselves Zetrov, plan on buying your loyalty like they buy everyone's." I snarl with the thought.

"I'm not here to make a deal, or offer you money. Power." I can hear the rustling from several lean bodies move closer, just out of sight. "I want to restore your pack. Your chair in New Orleans." There's a short howl.

Then someone steps from the trees, a tall, burly man. Shirtless with dirt on his hands. A pair of shorts the only clothing he had. "We've heard of you. The ruler of The League. You came here before, killed the vampires who hunted us." His voice was scratchy, like he hadn't used it in a very long time. "You're a friend of Hayley's."