The Selected

(Hot) Mess

Present Day

I pulled my hot mess of a self together enough to get dressed and make it to my patrol post on time, the warm summer heat finally giving way to a mild fall as the middle of September hit. I quickly stripped and stashed my clothes, shifting into my wolf and feeling better already. 

The air was still warm enough, but the breeze that rolled through was chiller than those of the summer. I tilted my head back a bit, snout to the air, enjoying that breeze and sun on my face, breathing in deep- deep enough to scent something off. 

Immediately, my eyes were peeled open and scanning the area around me, ears straining to hear any sound that was out of place. 

Just as I was beginning to wonder if I was now going crazy as well, I heard it, a light rustling of clothes and of leaves underfoot. I inched forward silently, crouching down low and obscuring myself within the bushes. I waited as those footsteps neared, as a human scent tainted with something else inched closer. 

I willed my breathing to quiet, for my racing heart to settle down. This was no time to give in to stress and panic. It got harder to fight the human instinct to run in fear, to allow those emotions to control me, especially as the unmistakable sound of a bow being drawn reached my ears. 

I stayed still, crouched in the bushes, my brown fur blending into the surroundings like camouflage. I kept myself hidden and silent as a human man stepped into my line of sight on near-silent feet. He had a bow drawn, a silver-tipped arrow in place as he scanned the area as if he were the predator in this case. 

Silently, I bared my teeth at him, my animal instincts urging me to take this would-be-predator out of the equation, to leap and rip him into tiny bits. But I knew better than that, knew that I'd have to time it perfectly. If I messed this up, other got hurt, and that was nowhere near okay. 

So I sat and waited, watching as he crept through my forest, until finally he turned his body away from me, his back to me. I sat back deeper into all four legs, muscles coiled with tension and anger, and when I was certain he wouldn't turn and shoot me, I launched myself forward and clamped my jaws around his left shoulder. 

He screamed in agony, collapsing underneath my weight as his bow fell to the ground with his body. Uselessly, he lifted a silver dagger he'd plucked from his belt and blindly slashed it out with one arm. It was easy to dodge and then clamp my sharp teeth around that arm, forcing him to drop the blade and yell out in pain once again. The sound was distorted by blood gurgling in the back of his throat. 

I had struck true the first time, and now he was choking on his own blood. 

Shifting, I looked down on him as he took his last breath, my eyes hard. It was only when his head lolled to the side after his last breath that I noticed it. 

A black tattoo on the side of his neck, not obvious to the untrained eye, of two arrows crossing one another. 

Horror roiled through me as my knees shook with the effort to keep me standing, to keep me from collapsing to the ground in a heap of tears and nothingness. Ice cold dread shot through me as memories replayed and possible futures edged at my consciousness. 

No. I told myself. This is no time to panic. 

Calmly, though every minute movement felt jerky and wrong, like someone was controlling my body from the outside, I walked to the tree I had stashed my clothes and put them on before returning to the hunter's body. Grabbing him by the back of his collar, I began my trek to Conrad's house, dragging him behind me. 

Keep going. Don't think about it. I continued urging myself, to forget about everything that that stupid mark on his neck entailed. I ignored the fact that my body was trembling. I ignored the fact that pack members openly stared as I dragged a corpse behind me. I ignored the looks of terror of the newly Selected members of the pack. Briefly, the memory of my own terror and anger as I faced Michael day after day flashed behind me eyes, one painful memory in a giant pit of them. I wondered if I had looked as they now do. 

I ignored the scathing glare Con was giving me from his front porch steps as I marched up to him and unceremoniously dumped the body as his feet. 

He crossed his arms as he ground out, "What the hell is this, Addie?" 

"This," I stated, "is a huge fuckin' problem." 

And then I nudged the hunter's head, revealing to Conrad the tattoo on side of his neck, the tattoo that signified so much of my own personal history, that served as a horrible reminder to both myself and Conrad. 

He swore low and viciously. 

Pointing at the nearest pack member, "Clean this up. Now. You, with me." 

That last part was directed toward me, and I followed him inside and up into his office. I could feel the rage and power pouring off of him by the gallon, but apart from his stiff muscles, no one would be able to tell by looking at him. He strode to his desk and I collapsed in one of the two armchairs in front of his desk. 

To be honest, I didn't know if I could have kept myself upright for any longer. 

Looking into Conrad's eyes, I watched as he pushed aside his anger and his eyes filled with concern, "Are you okay?" 

Not because the hunter I'd killed had physically hurt me, but because of what that symbol would make me remember. 

Curtly, I nodded. 

Internally, I layered more bricks in the shape of a wall before my mind, refusing to let the tidal wave of nightmares and memories come crashing in. I reinforced the steel cage around my heart, refusing to relive all of that pain and emotion. 

Conrad frowned as he sat, but didn't say anything else. He knew better. 

Sighing, he spoke again after a few moments of silence, "I haven't told you this yet because I was hoping it wouldn't be important, but there has been an increase in hunter activity nationwide over the past few months. Not those hunters specifically, but now I'm not so sure." 

He gave me a scrutinizing look, as if to gather whether or not I could handle whatever it is he had to say next. 

Keeping that iron grip on my emotions and thoughts, I nodded at him to indicate that he could keep going. 

He ran a hand down his face, "One pack in particular has had problems lately, and has reached out asking for my help. The Phoenix Pack." 

Years of training kept the shock and emotion from my face. 

The Phoenix Pack. Home. It had been home, where Alan and Mary Anne had acted as my foster parents. Where Jordan, my brother for all intents and purposes, was probably chomping at the bit to take over as alpha. Where Samaria, my only true friend then, probably still wondered how I had known what I had the day of my Selection. 

"I intend to meet with them and help in any way I can," Conrad continued, though I only half payed attention. It snapped back to him fully, though, as he spoke again, "And you will come with me."