The clock struck midnight and DPD detective Pedro Luna was pulling up into the carpark of the Dewsbury General Hospital in his 1965 Chevy Caprice. The car rumbled to a halt in the mostly empty lot and he ejected a cassette from the player; ‘Frank Sinatra’s Greatest Hits,’ before placing it back in its case. Opening the glovebox, he methodically sorted the tape back among the rest in alphabetical order, right between ‘E.S.P.’ by Miles Davis and ‘Goats Head Soup’ by The Rolling Stones.

Pedro was a man who enjoyed order, everything fitting into its rightful place. Pedro was also a man who enjoyed fixing things. He’d fixed up his beloved car after acquiring it from a scrapyard back in Palm Springs for a criminally low $900, turning it from a non-functioning hunk of rust and metal into the gleaming beast it was today. 325 horsepower, zero to sixty in eight seconds. It was, without a doubt, the second love of his life.

It was because of this desire to fix things that Pedro had taken up police work. To him, each case was another thing to fix, another problem to solve. He stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath of the calm night air. A litany of different scents hit his nose; exhaust, petrichor, spray paint, and the ever-present cloud of pine that covered this small town like a morning fog. This particular case raised a few eyebrows back at the PD. Two dead, two injured, one critically so. Evidence of gunfire, but no weapons found at the scene, aside from a smashed handheld taser. Most of the injuries seemed to be lacerations or blunt force trauma aside from one of the dead, killed via bullet to the brain. They were still waiting on analysis as to what sort of firearm was used, but Pedro could hedge his bets. He knew what this was, even if his coworkers didn’t.

The body that had been shot was, for lack of a better word, wrong. At least eight feet tall, a slab of pure muscle and hair with disproportionately long limbs. What was left of his face was also lengthened, almost into a snout. The only conscious witness, a sixteen year old girl named Roxanne, claimed that his name was ‘Blaine,’ although that remains to be verified. This didn’t sit right with Pedro. In his time on the force, he’d seen all manner of horrifying things, but that body instilled in him a sense of dread that he hadn’t felt since he was a boy, when those men came to his house and told him that his father would not be coming home.

One thing that raised his eyebrows and no one else’s was a name on the report, supplied by the witness. Samantha Reed, the other injured girl. That was a name Pedro hadn’t heard in a long time, not since he was first ordered to transfer to Dewsbury, thirteen years ago. Reed was a very well-known name, in certain circles. The name of a husband and wife, murdered in cold blood for reasons they couldn’t help, and the name of their at-the-time pre-school aged daughter.

The name of the last of the Direwolves.

Pedro spent a time watching over Samantha from afar, ensuring that those who had taken her parents from her didn’t come back to finish the job. He watched as she was taken in by a family of humans, as she struggled to shift back from her wolf because she couldn’t handle the complexity of her trauma as a human. It was a feeling he could sympathise with. He kept an eye on her for two years before pulling back, deciding that if the hunters were going to come back, they already would have. He still remained in Dewsbury, if only to ensure that his hunch was right and that the death of an entire subspecies wouldn’t be partially on his hands.

Pedro wasn’t a very paternal person, which is why, despite being ordered to take the young direwolf under his wing, he decided to keep his distance. Samantha needed as normal of a childhood as she could get. That meant a loving family, not a single workaholic cop. It meant that Samantha wouldn’t learn about her culture and history, wouldn’t learn how to spot a hunter on a crowded street, wouldn’t learn how to fight, to take revenge, but it meant that she could have a life outside of the dark underworld that stole her innocence from her, and Pedro decided that was more important for the daughter of his highschool sweetheart.

And yet, despite his intentional distance, it seemed that Samantha had found her way into the dark anyway, found her way back to him.

Pedro sighed and forced himself to walk towards the hospital. He had a job to do, a problem to solve, and a teenager to interview. It was time to find out what really happened tonight.

—

Cold water ran over Roxy’s hands as she washed them, bringing her back to the present. She had a bit of difficulty washing both at the same time, her right arm being restricted by a sling. A pang of phantom pain shot through her shoulder at the memory of getting it set back in; a uniquely painful experience, even with all the painkillers the doctors had given her.

She turned the water off and willed her hands to stop shaking with limited success. Looking up into the mirror, she saw a girl staring back at her; a girl that looked far older than she had any right to be. Heavy bags under her puffy bloodshot eyes, a scratch on her cheek, little flecks of dried blood that the doctors had missed crusted along her jaw and in her dark, matted hair. It wasn’t her blood.

She reached up with her good arm, scratching the blood from her tan olive skin. It was getting darker as she got older, though she didn’t think it would ever be as dark as her dad’s. She ran her hand through her hair, trying to fix it up a little, but it wasn’t very effective. She probably wouldn’t be able to do much without a proper shower.

There was something in her hair.

It was soft and squishy. The texture reminded her of gelatin. She pulled it out and held it in front of her face. It was about the size of her thumbnail, pinkish grey in colour, coated with crimson. It left distinct streaks of red on her palm. Her hand started shaking again.

…

There was brain in her hair. She was holding a fucking chunk of brain. From someone else’s head. Oh my god.

Roxy ran back into the toilet stall and threw up again.

When she was done heaving up the remains of her dinner, Roxy exited the stall, once again washing her hands and rinsing the taste of bile from her mouth. She dried herself with some paper towels and left the bathroom, stepping into the brightly lit hallway and sitting on a chair to continue what she’d spent the last hour doing: waiting for Sam to get out of surgery.

There were officers in the hall, making sure she didn’t leave. Apparently there was some detective that was supposed to come and interview her, but it was past midnight and she hadn’t seen them yet, so she supposed they were running late. She ran through her werewolves-aren’t-real cover story in her head for the fiftieth time, if only to keep her mind away from worrying if Sam would make it through the night.

Sam and I were walking home from a gathering with friends when Blaine came out of the alley and attacked us.

No, I don’t know why he was that big. Drugs, maybe?

I was thrown against a wall and I was knocked out.

When I came to, Blaine was already dead. No, I don’t know who shot him.

The sound of an elevator announcing its arrival caught her attention. A man stepped out. He looked to be somewhere in his late thirties to early forties with tanned skin and short, curly black hair, streaks of grey peppering the edges. Salt and pepper stubble covered the bottom half of his face, coalescing in a moustache on his upper lip. He was wearing a white button-up shirt underneath a brown leather coat, untucked from his denim jeans. His boots made little noise on the linoleum floor as he approached one of the guarding officers.

They started speaking about something, but Roxy wasn’t listening. She was too focused on the new arrival. There was something about the way he moved that simultaneously set her on edge with its smoothness and put her at ease with its familiarity. He looked away from the officer he was speaking to and his eyes found her, a piercing dark brown gaze that sent a shiver through her nervous system.

The man approached her and Roxy found her heart rate rising for reasons she couldn’t place. He eyed her appraisingly before kneeling down to her eye level and speaking.

“Evening, young lady. My name’s Pedro. I’m a detective with the Dewsbury Police. You’re Roxanne, correct?”

His voice was deep and smooth, with a hint of an accent Roxy couldn’t place. She nodded.

“I need to ask you a few questions about tonight.” He rose back to his full height. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.” He held out a hand. Roxy eyed it warily, still not saying anything.

Pedro sighed. “You’re not in trouble. You’re not even a suspect, I just need to get a few details straight and I’m sure you’re tired. We’ll go get some coffee.”

Coffee did sound pretty good at that moment, but there was still some hesitance within her. “I-I need to wait for Sam to get out of surgery. I need to be here to make sure she’s okay.”

It was the first time Roxy had spoken since the doctors had asked her where she was hurting. Her voice came out weak and shaky. Something flickered across Pedro’s face and he smiled softly.

“I’m sure your friend will be alright. She’s made it this far and the doctors are taking care of her. She’ll still be here when you get back. This won’t take long.”

Nodding, Roxy stood shakily. She followed the man as they walked through the winding corridors of the hospital, eventually coming to the exit and walking across the street to a twenty-four hour diner. They sat in a booth and a bored looking waitress came over to serve them, clearly excited at the prospect of some business on this slow night.

“Hey there, what can I get for you tonight?” She asked, all too cheerily for the night Roxy had had.

“Water for me,” Pedro replied, turning to Roxy. “What do you want?”

The waitress looked at her, subtly giving her a worried once-over. Roxy didn’t blame her. She knew she looked like shit.

“Coffee with cream and two sugars, please,” she answered quietly.

“Gotcha. They’ll be ready shortly.”

The waitress walked off and the two sat in silence while they waited for their orders. Pedro pulled out a notepad and read through it while Roxy busied herself with inspecting the menu. Nothing looked particularly appetising, not with the nausea still swimming around her empty stomach.

The waitress returned with their drinks. Pedro took a sip of his water before pulling a pen out of his coat and flipping to a fresh page of his notepad.

“Now, Roxanne. I have a few questions. Do you prefer Roxy?”

Roxy nodded and took a sip of her drink. The bitter taste was grounding.

He nodded. “Alright, Roxy. First off, could you tell me a little bit about what happened tonight?”

Roxy took a deep breath to calm herself and began her explanation. “Sam and I were walking home from a gathering with friends. We heard some weird sounds coming from an alleyway and when we… When we went to check it out, Blaine jumped out a-and attacked us. We tried to fight him off, but…”

Roxy faltered as images of the fight flashed in front of her eyes. The sound of snapping bones and Sam’s shriek of pain filled her head. Her hands started to shake again.

Pedro nodded, writing in his notepad. “And how did you know this ‘Blaine?’” he asked.

Roxy swallowed “I… We used to go to school with him. He was expelled a few weeks ago for starting a fight.”

Pedro nodded again. “Did he say anything before he attacked you? Anything that might indicate a motive?”

Roxy shook her head. “No… I… I don’t even think he recognised us, at least consciously.”

Pedro put his notepad down and stared at Roxy, an oddly calm yet intense expression on his face. “What can you tell me about the state Blaine was in?”

She couldn’t help it, she averted her eyes. “I… I’d never seen anything like it before. It was like he was completely mindless. He threw me against a wall and I was knocked out. When I came to, he was already d-dead. Th-that’s all I know.”

Pedro hummed, putting his notepad away entirely. His eyes were sparkling. “See, I don’t think that’s true. Not entirely, anyway. I talked to your doctors before I came to get you. A dislocated shoulder and a couple of bumps and scrapes were the extent of your injuries. If you’d been knocked out, you’d most likely have at least a minor concussion.”

Roxy’s heart skipped a beat. Pedro was still looking at her with that strange expression. “I… I-I don’t-”

“I think you know what Blaine was, don't you, Roxy? You know, and you’re trying to hide it, to make sure that the secret doesn’t get out. That’s why you didn’t try to run away when he attacked, because you knew that it would be futile against a werewolf. The shocker there wasn’t his shifted form, because you’d seen that before, hadn’t you? Hell, Sam no doubt shifted during the fight herself. The surprise came from how abnormally huge he was, because you and I both know that’s not normal. Not even Direwolves get that big when they half-shift, and you would know, considering who your friend is.” Pedro leaned against the table. His voice was calm and even. “So, the question remains, Roxy. What happened to Blaine? Why was he that big? And why didn’t he revert once he died?”

Roxy’s heart was pounding, her hands shaking. Who was this guy? If he was a hunter then she was already fucked, and it sounded like he knew about Sam too. She started hyperventilating.

Pedro leaned back, wincing. “Shit, maybe that was too intense. Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” He slid his water over to her. “Here, take a drink. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m just trying to figure this out.”

She accepted the offer, shakily taking a sip of the icy water, focusing on the cold sensation running down her throat to ground herself. She tried to pull herself together a little, throwing up the feeble remains of her defence. “I don’t… I… W-werewolves? Wh-what are you t-t-talking about?”

“You don’t need to waste our time trying to hide it, Roxy. I know you know about us. I wasn’t sure at first, but in such close proximity, it’s obvious. I clearly just handled it poorly.” He smiled placatingly. “I can smell it on you. You’ve been marked. Sam’s more than just a friend, isn’t she?”

Roxy breathed a hesitant sigh of relief. “S-so, you’re a werewolf too, then?” She asked nervously.

His eyes flashed amber. “Hombre-lobo, in the flesh.”

Roxy looked down, rubbing the back of her neck. “S-sorry for freaking out. I thought you might be a hunter. I-I didn’t want to put Sam in danger.”

“Ah, don’t be. I didn’t exactly explain myself very well. I noticed a discrepancy in your story and got excited. Apologies, that’s on me.”

Roxy swallowed. “That’s the second time someone’s said that I’m marked. I-I don’t know what that means.”

Pedro leaned back and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s basically just something that tells any other werewolves that you’re already taken. A long time ago, it used to mean something; it represented a true physical and emotional connection, where partners could actually, for lack of a better word, feel each other, no matter how far apart they were. Nowadays it’s just an instinctual thing we do to mark what’s ours. Sam probably didn’t even realise the connotations when she marked you, probably just felt a pull and decided to follow it. We’re a possessive bunch, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Roxy hummed thoughtfully and took a sip from her coffee. “What do you mean by ‘a long time ago?’”

“It’s a whole other can of worms, kid, and if I was gonna tell it I’d rather have the young Reed around. Saves me from having to explain it all twice. It’s about time she learnt a little about her own history, anyway.” Pedro sighed and looked out the window. “Consequences of letting her be raised by humans, I guess.”

Roxy was about to ask about that, but he started speaking again before she could say anything. “Anyway, back to the task at hand. I suspect now that you know I’m a werewolf, you won’t have any reason to keep trying to hide things, is that correct?”

Roxy nodded. Pedro smiled and brought his notepad back out. “Now, from the beginning, if you would.”

Roxy told him everything, including her and Sam’s history with Blaine. She glossed over the fight in the alley, moreso because she just didn’t want to think about it any more than she already was than any intent to hide anything. When she got to the part where the hunters arrived and saved her from Blaine, Pedro froze, looking up from his notepad with dark eyes.

“Shit…” He pinched the bridge of his nose worriedly. “Are you sure it was them?”

“Positive. I’ve had a run-in with them in the past. I would recognise the man that attacked me anywhere.”

Pedro looked flabbergasted. “You’ve had a… Jesus fucking christ, kid! Do you realise how lucky you are to be here right now? One slip-up and you’d either be dissolving in a tub of acid or locked up in some basement for their fucked up ‘re-education’ course! A fuckin run-in… mierda…” He started rubbing his eyes exasperatedly.

While that information was not news to Roxy, hearing it laid out in such clear terms definitely set a lump in her throat. She took a long swig of her coffee in an attempt to swallow it down. “B-but, they let me go again t-tonight. I didn’t even need to fight them off, they just left once they heard the sirens.”

Pedro looked up seriously. “And they didn’t do or say anything about Sam?”

“N-no, she reverted back to normal when she got knocked out, so I think they thought she was just a normal human.”

He started rubbing his eyes again. “None of this makes any fuckin sense. Between Blaine going berserk like that and the Sons just showing up out of nowhere only to leave again without even trying to take you or Sam, those pendejos have to be up to something.” Pedro looked up at her again, eyes flashing amber. “You keep her safe, okay? That poor girl is the last of her breed and she doesn’t even know it. She needs someone looking out for her.”

“Wh-what? What do you mean?”

He reached into his coat and handed her a business card. “I’ve gotta go make some calls, but if you two ever get into trouble, call me. I’ll explain everything then. On the back you’ll find the number of another werewolf. She’s a doctor here in Dewsbury. Get Sam transferred to her clinic as soon as possible. Human doctors won’t be able to treat her properly and she’ll probably be stuck on a ventilator for a month because they won’t understand how her body heals. Trust me, I’ve been there, it’s not a fun existence.”

With that, Pedro stood up and left, leaving some money on the table to pay for their drinks. Roxy sat there for another few minutes, nursing her drink and staring out the window at the hospital, thinking about everything she’d heard tonight. She reached up and touched her neck, right on the spot that Sam had bitten Thursday afternoon. She might have been imagining it, but she thought she felt a slight tingle there when her eyes passed over a certain spot of the hospital. It seemed Sam and her were due for a conversation.

—

Leif woke to the sound of a TV churning out some random as-seen-on-TV ad somewhere to her right. She cracked her eyes open for a split second only to shut them again with a hiss as the early morning sun shining in from Ross’s apartment window exacerbated the headache she hadn’t even realised she had.

“Ugh, what f’ckin time is it?” she slurred out with a groan.

“About six thirty.” A familiar voice replied from somewhere in front of her. Cracking open her eyes again - this time with the protection of her hand blocking out the sunlight - she noticed Natalie sitting on the end of the couch she was lying on, Leif’s legs in her lap and a bowl of cereal in her hands.

“What th’ fuck are you doing up at six f’ckin thirty?” Leif asked grumpily. Nat laughed melodically.

“Sorry, I was trying not to wake you. I had to get ready for work, but I wanted to check the news. Ross and I heard some weird noises last night after you passed out, so I just wanted to see if there was anything about it.”

“Huh. Well, ‘m awake now.” Leif pulled herself up into a sitting position on the couch before being briefly overcome with a wave of dizziness and nausea as her headache threatened to knock her back out again. “Urgh, fuck. I don’t think I’m making it to school today. Roxy’s gonna be pissed.”

“Please don’t throw up on my couch. You’ll be cleaning it if you do.”

Leif held back a gag as a hot flush overcame her. “I’m not gonna throw up on your couch, for fuck’s sake.”

Nat snorted. “Lightweight.”

The two bickered amicably as they waited for the news to come on. Eventually the way-too-long ad featuring a ladder with ‘27 different unique features’ ended and the familiar jingle of the local news station filled the room.

“Good morning Dewsbury! I’m Dave Whitman,”

“And I’m Joanna Newstead,”

“And this is your morning news! A very troubling story today, I’m afraid.”

“That’s right, Dave. For the first time in thirteen years, it seems that murder has struck our small town!”

“More on that very soon. But first, your morning weather. To you, Tom!”

Both girls paled. Leif spoke first.

“D-do you think it has to do with those sounds you heard?”

Nat put her cereal down on the coffee table. “I really hope not. They sounded pretty close and it wasn’t long after Sam and Roxy left.”

Leif suddenly felt very cold. “Fuck.”

Nat put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Hey, let’s not jump to conclusions, okay? Let’s wait till we hear the full story.”

It only partially got rid of the horrible feeling in her gut, but Leif nodded. “Y-yeah… okay.”

Nat called for Ross, much to the chagrin of Leif’s headache. Eventually, he and Lukas came stumbling out of Ross’s room from down the hall, both in various states of undress. “What, what?! Jesus, what time is it even?”

“Ross, there was a murder last night. The story’s about to come on.” Nat explained.

That woke both boys up very quickly. “Oh, crap.”

“Shit, where?” Lukas asked, his dark complexion paling significantly.

“We don’t know yet. I’m guessing they’re about to tell us.”

They nodded and sat down together in an armchair, Ross taking up roost on the armrest while Lukas took the main seat. Leif noticed a little bruise sticking out on Ross’s pale skin. “Yo, Ross, you got a little…” She pointed at the spot on her own neck.

He blushed considerably, slapping his hand over the mark as he pointedly avoided her eyes. Leif giggled.

Eventually, the weather ended and the two main newscasters came back onto the screen.

“Last night, at approximately ten thirty pm, police were called to investigate a disturbance on Shepperton street.”

“Shit, that’s the street Roxy and Sam would’ve taken.” Leif worried out loud. Nat shushed her as Ross looked at her with worried eyes.

“When they arrived at the scene, police found two dead bodies, as well as two injured teenagers. Both were rushed to the Dewsbury General Hospital, where one remains in a stable yet critical condition. According to testimony gathered from the other witness, who thankfully only sustained minor injuries, this was the result of a disgruntled ex-student going on a drug-induced rampage. He killed one man, who has yet to be identified, before attacking the two witnesses, who were reportedly walking home from a night out. The suspect was shot dead by an unknown third party before police arrived. The names of those involved have not yet been released by police, and the identity of the person or persons that killed the suspect is still unknown. If you have any information that may be helpful to police in this investigation, please call the number on screen now.”

The atmosphere in the room grew progressively more tense as the news report continued until Nat turned off the TV. No one said anything for at least two full minutes.

Finally, Ross spoke up. “Th-there’s no way that Roxy and Sam got caught up in that, right?”

“I dunno, it matches their description, right?”

“Lukas, I adore you, but shut the fuck up. They’re fine. There’s no way they’re hurt.” Ross was visibly sweating.

Leif pulled out her phone. “Everyone shut up, I’m calling Roxy.”

She put the phone on speaker as it rang. Everyone crowded around. The tightness in her chest grew greater the longer the phone rang on until there was a click and Roxy’s voice filled the room.

“Hey, It’s Roxy. I can’t come to the phone right now, so if it’s important, leave a message. Or don’t, cuz I probably won’t check it anyway. Seriously, just text me instead.”

Another click. The room was dead silent. “Sh-she’s probably just asleep. It’s barely even seven.” Leif consoled. She rang again.

This time, after around three rings, the phone clicked and a very tired sounding Roxy answered.

“Leif? What’s…” the sound of a stifled yawn could be heard. “What’s up?”

Everyone breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Roxy! Thank god you’re okay. We were worried about you, dude!”

Roxy was silent for a worrying amount of time. A twinge of dread found its way into Leif’s heart. “Why? What did you hear?”

“Th-there was a murder last night, on Shepperton street, right around the time you and Sam left. We just wanted to make sure you were alright.” There was a silence on the other end of the phone. “You guys are okay, right?”

A sigh. “...I can’t lie to you, Leif. We’re really not.”

“...Roxy? You don’t mean…”

“Yeah, I do… It… I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you this, but it was Blaine. He went crazy after he was expelled. He attacked me in the woods on Thursday night, I barely got away with my life. Last night, when we were walking home, he jumped out of an alley and attacked us. I don’t even think he knew it was us, he was on drugs or something, just lashing out at anything that moved. I… I’m okay, but Sam… She got out of surgery a few hours ago, but she still hasn’t woken up. …Am I on speaker?”

Leif swallowed, looking around the room at everyone’s harrowed faces. “Y-yeah. Everyone wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, shit. Hi, guys.”

Ross spoke up. “Roxy, wh-what’s wrong with Sam? Is she…?”

Roxy sighed “It would honestly probably be quicker to list what isn’t wrong with her. Broken arm, broken ribs, fractured skull, a grade three concussion. She had to go into surgery because shards of her ribs ended up puncturing her lungs. She… she stopped breathing for a while there. It was really scary. I-I thought she was dead…” There was a slight sniffle audible through the phone.

“Shit, Rox. I’m really sorry.”

“I-it’s fine. They have her on a ventilator now. The doctors say there’s a chance she won’t wake up, but I know she’ll make it through this. She will.”

Leif detected a hint of something unsaid there, but she didn’t comment. “Is it alright if we come see you guys? I… I probably wasn’t going to go to school today anyway.”

Roxy hesitated. “Probably not right now. Sam’s being transferred to a different clinic later today, one that’ll better suit her… her needs. I’m going to be heading home as soon as my parents arrive to pick me up. I’ll send you guys the details of her new clinic once she gets there and we can visit together.”

“Sounds good, Rox. …I-” The words caught in her throat briefly as she found herself overcome by the sudden urge to cry. “I’m really glad you’re okay. We were all really worried about you guys.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a minute, only broken when Roxy let out a quiet sob. “Y-yeah…”

—

Sam woke up. The first thing she noticed was the pain.

Everything hurt.

Her head hurt, her neck hurt, her arms hurt, her chest really fucking hurt. Her legs… actually, her legs were pretty okay.

She opened her eyes, but she couldn’t see anything beyond an all encompassing blur. Her eyes stung, so she closed them again. She tested the air with her nose instead. The smell of disinfectant hit her pretty hard, among a litany of other scents. She could also smell someone nearby. It was a very familiar scent, one that was intermingled with hints of her own. It promised safety and relief from the all encompassing pain that was echoing through her with every breath.

With much difficulty, she managed to turn her head to the left, where the scent was coming from, and tried to open her eyes again. She could see a vaguely person shaped blob, seemingly sitting on a chair. She tried calling out to them, to ask them for help, but her throat was dry and all that came out was a weak cough.

This caught the person’s attention. They turned their head to her and got up from their chair, walking over. A soft hand cradled Sam’s cheek as she felt a weight on the bed she was lying on.

“Hey, Sam. How’re you feeling?”

The voice was feminine, familiar, with a hint of sadness to it. It hurt Sam’s heart to hear this person sound sad.

“H-hurts.” Sam whispered raspily.

“Let your wolf out, honey. It’ll make you feel better.” The person replied.

Sam mentally bashed herself for not thinking of that sooner. She scrunched her face up in concentration as she tried to bring her wolf to the surface so that her body could heal from whatever had happened to it. She noticed a tightness in her right cheek as she did so, but the presence of that soft, grounding hand kept her focused on her task.

With a gasp, she felt her dormant wolf come to the surface. Everything sharpened and became clear. The pain relief was almost instant and her body went limp. She heard the person’s (Roxy’s!!) heart rate pick up.

“Sam? You- you still with me?” Roxy asked, on the edge of panic.

“Y-yeah. I-I’m here…”

Sam opened her eyes again and this time, everything was clear. Roxy was looking down at her, expression filled with worry. Her hair was tied back into a tiny ponytail, her bangs swept to the side hanging just above her eyebrows. She looked really pretty like that.

Roxy blushed. “Th-thanks,” she said bashfully, a little smile appearing on her face.

Sam frowned in confusion. “Did I… say that out loud?”

“Yeah.” Roxy giggled. It was a sound that pierced her brain and made her heart flutter with hundreds of happy little emotions. It was almost enough to make her forget where she was, but when Roxy shifted and revealed that her right arm was in a sling, the illusion came crashing down.

“Roxy! Your- your arm! What happened?!” Sam tried to sit up, but was quickly reminded that having her wolf out didn’t block all pain when the nerves in her chest lit up in agony at the movement. She let out a yelp as she fell back against the bed.

Roxy’s hand was on her shoulder, gently holding her down. “Hey, hey, don’t try to move. I’m fine, alright? You should be worrying about yourself, Sam. You’re really hurt, you need to be careful, okay?”

Sam took the opportunity to look down at herself. Her right arm was in a cast and her left was covered in bandages. She lifted her hospital gown with her left hand, revealing the ugly mess of purple bruising that was her chest, accompanied by yet more bandages. She touched the right side of her face and found gauze.

“Roxy…” she started, looking to the girl as her eyes filled with tears and her hands started to shake. “What… What happened? What happened to me? Why am I here? I- I don’t- I don’t remember. Where- Where am I, Roxy? Wh-wh-what hap-happened? Why a-a-am I h-hurt? Wh-wh-why-”

Roxy gently placed her hand back on Sam’s cheek before she could stutter any further. “Shhh. Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital, alright? Nothing’s gonna hurt you here. Take deep breaths, baby. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Sam did what she was told and managed to calm herself down enough to speak. “I- I remember Ross’s p-party. We were s-sitting on the couch together. After that, I don’t know.”

Roxy smiled gently. “That’s okay. The doctor said you might have a tough time remembering. You were hit in the head pretty hard and your mind might have just blocked it out regardless. It was…” She looked down. “Pretty traumatic. I… I’ve been struggling to sleep these past few nights just from nightmares.”

Sam frowned. “Past few nights? What do you mean?”

Roxy bit her lip. “Try not to freak out, but… You’ve been asleep for about three days. It’s Wednesday now.”

Sam let her head flop back against the pillow while she absorbed that. “Roxy. Tell it to me straight. What happened?”

Roxy sighed, looking away. “It… it was Blaine. There was something… wrong with him. He was like eight feet tall and completely mindless, to the point where I don’t think he even knew it was us that he was attacking. I managed to avoid most of his attacks but that’s mostly because you took the brunt of it. I managed to get away with just a dislocated shoulder and some mild bruising but you…” She met Sam’s gaze once again. “You stopped breathing. I- I don’t even understand how you managed to survive, you were hurt so badly. I was so scared, Sammie. I thought I lost you.” Her voice shook as a few stray tears made their way down her face.

Sam reached up and placed her left hand on Roxy’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m still here, Rox. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” She smirked.

Roxy giggled wetly, wiping her eyes. “Yeah, I should’ve known. Nothing can kill the great Samantha Reed.”

The two girls shared a laugh for a moment before Sam spoke up.

“So, what happened to Blaine? Did you use some of that MMA mastery to take him down or something?”

Roxy laughed. “No, no. I would’ve been torn to shreds. He was shrugging off all of our attacks anyway. Like, I tried to tase him but he barely even reacted!” She paused for a moment. “It was… it was actually a group of hunters. They came out of nowhere and shot him straight in the head right before he was about to finish me off. …I don’t think it was a coincidence that they showed up. They looked all dressed up for battle, like they were expecting it, with guns and swords and shit. I’m just glad you were already out. If they’d seen you half-shifted they probably would have shot you too.”

Sam growled. “Did they hurt you at all?”

“No.” Roxy shook her head. “I think they might have tried to kidnap me again though, if the police hadn’t been as fast as they were. They left pretty quickly after they heard the sirens approaching.”

“That makes no sense. The hunters are always thorough. If they thought we even had a hint about anything to do with werewolves they should have taken us out. Not that I’m complaining. It just doesn’t feel right.”

Roxy hummed darkly. “No, it doesn’t.”

—

Under directions from her doctor, Sam was released from the hospital that night, as her injuries had healed to the point of her at the very least being able to move around. Ordinarily she would have been worried to learn of another werewolf living in her territory, but given the circumstances, she could only offer her thanks. Dr. Parker had easily proven that she was not a threat to Sam or her pack, and as such Sam was simply relieved to know that she had such easy access to werewolf-friendly medical care.

Once she got home that night, Sam removed the bandages from her face and arm. Looking in the mirror, she could see the damage across her cheek. Three distinct scars across the right side of her face, the longest stretching from the hinge of her jaw to just past her cheekbone, accompanied by two smaller slashes on either side. It took everything she had not to cry at the sight. It helped to have Roxy assure her that it didn’t change anything about how she felt about her. She also said that “battle scars are hot,” which did manage to put a smile on Sam’s face.

She spent the rest of the week recovering at home and preparing herself for her upcoming exams the next week, which wasn’t easy given the fact that her incredibly distractible wolf had to be at the surface practically 24/7 in order to avoid her being bedridden with pain. Roxy came over every day after school to help her out, usually accompanied by either Leif or Ross, although the latter was much more of a hassle as she couldn’t keep her wolf out with him around.

In the end, exam week came and went with relative smoothness, constant horrific nightmares showing her forgotten memories of that night and sudden inexplicable fear of the dark notwithstanding. She had the cast removed from her right arm the following weekend and was grateful to see there was minimal scarring, especially when compared with the carved up mess that was her left arm.

Things mostly returned to normal after that, although that constant fear that there might be something waiting to jump out at her around every corner never truly left. It was something she’d battled with for years after her parents died and getting so soundly beaten like that was a fresh reminder that she wasn’t invincible. That, just like back then, she wouldn’t always be strong enough to protect her loved ones.

Seeing Roxy jump back into her training with newfound vigor was a welcome comfort from those fears, and getting to watch her body slowly grow stronger as her muscles became more defined was certainly a welcome distraction, too. It was good to know that Roxy would be able to defend herself, even if Sam wasn’t there.

Relations with Roxy’s mom were going surprisingly well, all things considered. She had begrudgingly accepted her daughter’s ‘lifestyle’ (as much as both girls had cringed when she used the word) and was allowing Sam to spend time at her house. Her dad was a thoroughly pleasant man and would often take the time to cook traditional Burmese food whenever she came over for dinner, although they had to be careful with anything spicy due to Sam’s natural intolerance for it, which Roxy made fun of to no end.

Even after one such night, lying in Roxy’s bed after a passionate moment together, with the other girl curled up against her chest, Sam still couldn’t stop her mind from wandering in the direction of the hunters. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. By all accounts, the hunters should have killed both of them along with Blaine, or at the very least kidnapped them. She had this awful feeling that something big was brewing, and Sam wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stop it.

She looked down at the naked girl snoring softly in her arms and resolved herself. No matter what the future held, she would keep Roxy safe. No matter what.

—

The phone rang. A man with a scarred face picked up the receiver and held it to his ear.

“Yes?”

“Apologies for the interruption, Father Superior, but I have good news from the Dewsbury outpost. Our test of DX-47 was a resounding success. Subject resisted all forms of damage and showed incredible strength, displaying very low levels of intelligence, equivalent to that of a rabid dog. He was, for all intents and purposes, a mindless beast.”

“Good. Now all that’s left is to find a suitable candidate for the Bloodmoon. A direwolf would’ve been best, but they are exceedingly rare, if not already extinct, so we may have to begin looking into an alternative option.”

“That’s the thing, Father. While in captivity, the test subject let slip that there’s a direwolf right here in Dewsbury! An adolescent, by the sound of it. We’ve already managed to find her full name and current address. She’s a descendant of the Reed pack. How should we proceed?”

The man touched a hand to his scarred face. It seemed that fate would allow him his revenge after all. “Do not approach. Direwolves aren’t to be underestimated, no matter their age. I’ll put together a team of our best soldiers and send them your way. They’ll be under your command, Harrison. Capture her alive and ensure that there aren’t any witnesses. Given how much those animals enjoy traipsing around the woods, you shouldn’t have much trouble catching her alone, I expect. Remember: do not underestimate her, or you will fail. I don’t think I need to remind you what will happen if you fail, do I, Harrison?”

The voice on the other end of the phone shook. “N-no, Father Superior.”

“Good. Is that all, then?”

“Yes, Father Superior. Laudate lucem solis.”

“Laudate lucem solis, my child.”