A/N: This chapter gets extremely dark in places, and features some themes that might be hard to read for some viewers. Check out the Royal Road version for a full list of content warnings as well as summaries of the difficult scenes in the end notes. Other than that, have fun! it's gonna be miserable :)

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Pedro yawned as he exited the bathroom, walking down the hall back to his office. It was times like this that he really wished he could have caffeine without getting sick. He was on shift for the rest of the night and he was already exhausted. Oh well, that was just part of the job, he supposed. It certainly wasn’t the first 10pm-6am shift he’d pulled, but given how much of his time had been taken up by the training course lately, it had certainly been a while since his last one.

His thoughts turned to Clarissa as he sat back down. He hoped she was doing alright. He considered calling her, but when he picked up his phone, he noticed he had a missed call from Roxy. Why would she be calling so late? And why didn’t she just leave a text when he didn’t answer? Slightly worried, he attempted to call her back, only for it to go straight to voicemail. That was odd.

He tried Leif instead. Maybe she knew something? It took a few rings, but she eventually picked up.

“Heeeeyy, Pedro! How’zit goin’?” There was a giggle from the other end of the phone. He sighed. She clearly wasn't sober.

“Hey, kid. I was just wondering if you’ve heard from Roxy at all?”

“Roxy? Naww, that square’s at work! Instead of hangin’ out with me! Can you believe that?!”

“Right. Well, thanks, Leif. Remember to drink some water.” With that, he hung up. Well, that was a relief. If she was at work, she probably just butt-dialed him and turned her phone off so it didn’t happen again. Still, it was a little strange that a teenager was still at work at 12:30 in the morning. Oh well, probably wasn’t important. He already knew she was a hard worker, so he didn’t doubt that carried over to her job as well.

He buried himself in paperwork for a bit to get his mind off of it. After a little while, there was a knock on his door. It opened before he could respond and his boss walked in.

“Hey, Pedro,” the man greeted.

“Chief,” Pedro responded in kind. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Got a new case. This one’s high priority, so drop everything else.”

“Oh?” Pedro’s stomach clenched a little bit. Anything that was ‘high priority’ in such a low-crime town couldn’t be good.

“Dispatcher answered a 911 call a little while ago. This girl claimed she was being chased by men who wanted to kidnap her. They heard the sound of fighting before the call suddenly cut off. When the patrol guys arrived at the scene, they only found a smashed phone, so I think we can assume those men were successful. We’re ruling this as a kidnapping. There were a few drops of blood at the scene that we’re getting analysed, and we’re checking the call to see if we can’t find a match for the attackers’ voices. There were a couple CCTV cameras in the area that we haven’t checked yet, so I’ll leave that up to you. Any questions?”

Pedro swallowed thickly. This couldn’t be what he thought it was, right? “U-uh, did you get the girl’s name?”

“Dispatcher said her name was ‘Roxanne Kindley.’ We’ve tracked down her records and found her address, but no one’s notified her parents yet. Poor kid’s only sixteen. Do you think you can- woah, Pedro, you alright?”

Pedro was frozen. His eyes stung. It was hard to breathe. It happened. It actually happened. Roxy called him for help and he’d been sitting on the fucking toilet. Why didn’t he just bring his phone with him?! It was stupid to blame himself for it, but he couldn’t help it. This was his fault, his responsibility to make right. He had to get started right away. He had to-

“Pedro! Jesus, man! What’s gotten into you?”

Pedro startled back into the present. He didn’t remember standing up, but he was looking at his desk from the back of the room, his chair knocked over and lying on the ground.

“I…” he faltered. “S-sorry, sir. I… I know that girl. It just… took me by surprise.”

“Right, sorry to hear that,” the chief replied. “As I was saying, do you think you could notify her parents?”

“Y-yes, sir. I can do that.”

His boss patted him on the shoulder. “Good man. Tell you what, I’ll get some of the guys to grab the camera footage for you, instead. Save you a trip.”

He nodded shakily. The camera footage didn’t matter. None of it mattered. “R-right.”

“Now, get to it. This kid’s life is on the line, so the quicker we can find who took her, the better.”

Pedro just watched as his boss left his office. Oh, you have no idea.

—

Pedro pulled up outside of the Kindley household at a little past 1:30 in the morning. He’d checked the camera footage that had been sent to him and it only confirmed what he’d been afraid of. The camera had been at the perfect angle to record Roxy’s limp form being carried into a van by four men. They had her. The hunters had Roxy, and Pedro had no fucking clue where to even start looking. He knew they had an outpost somewhere in Dewsbury, but no way to find it. His best bet was to try and find a hunter patrolling the town and follow them back, but would there even be any? By the time the news breaks in the morning, the entire town is going to be up in arms looking for Roxy. The hunters will no doubt retreat into their hideout until the heat dies down like the criminals they are. Pedro sighed. He couldn’t focus on that right now. He just needed to focus on the here and the now.

He stepped out of the car and walked up to the door with leaden feet. He wasn’t looking forward to this. He’d never met Roxy’s parents before, but it was never an easy thing to tell a parent that their kid was missing. After taking a deep breath, he rapped his knuckles against the wood, preparing for the worst. An Asian man about his age opened the door with a look of relief on his face, only for it to drop once he realised that the person at the door wasn’t his daughter. He must have been waiting for her to come home. Pedro’s heart clenched.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” the man asked.

Welp, this was it. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. I’m detective Pedro Luna with the Dewsbury Police.” He flashed his badge. The man paled. “Is your wife present? I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

“O-oh…” Pedro watched as the man swallowed and started to sweat. His heart was racing. “I… I’ll go get her. Please, come in.”

Pedro nodded solemnly as the man turned and walked up the stairs to, presumably, fetch his wife. Pedro stepped through the front door and into the kitchen. He stood and considered how he was going to break the news while he waited, though he wasn’t waiting long. The man came back down the stairs with his wife in tow. She was white, a fact that surprised him a little. He hadn't realised that Roxy was biracial. Not that it was important. It was just funny, the little things his mind distracted him with to stop him from thinking about the real issue.

“What is this? What’s going on?” she asked, her irritation at being woken up very clear.

“Good evening, ma’am. I’m sorry to bother you. Would you mind taking a seat? I’m afraid I have some news.”

The woman frowned in confusion before following his instruction and sitting at the table, her husband following shortly after. Pedro took a seat opposite them.

“First things first, I didn’t catch your names.”

“I-I’m Damien, and this is Martha,” the man, Damien, said. “Now, please, what is this about? Th-this… this isn’t about Roxy, is it?”

Pedro shut his eyes and sighed. “I’m afraid it is, sir.” He opened his eyes again and looked at the terrified face across from him. “I’m going to be blunt. Your daughter’s been kidnapped.”

The tense silence that followed his words was stifling. “Wh-what?”

“We received a 911 call earlier tonight, in which Roxy claimed that she was being chased by men who wanted to kidnap her. There was the sound of fighting, and then the call cut off. We found her phone at the scene, smashed up. After reviewing the footage from nearby CCTV cameras, we saw Roxy being carried into a van by four men, unconscious. Based on what little we heard from the call, we believe she was injected with some sort of anaesthetic.”

Martha was silent, a stricken expression on her face. Damien seemed close to hyperventilating. “B-but… but why?! Why our Roxy?!”

Pedro sighed sadly. “I don’t know, sir.” He did know, he just couldn’t tell them. “All I can say is that this wasn’t a crime of passion. It was too planned, too organised. Whoever this was knew Roxy well enough to know where she’d be and when. They also knew to take four guys for the job. If it was just one or two, Roxy likely would’ve been able to fight them off. Whoever it is, they’ve had their eyes on her for a while.”

“You… you say that like you know her?”

Pedro swallowed and nodded sadly. “I do know her. I… I’m friends with Samantha Reed’s guardians. I’ve met Roxy quite a few times while I’ve been over there. She’s a good kid.”

Damien nodded in acknowledgement. There were tears in his eyes. “S-so… what… what do we do?”

“Just spread the word as much as you can. We’re sending out a news report with the details of the kidnapping across the state, possibly nation-wide if we can get the clearance. The call caught the voices of the men who attacked her, so we’ll release that to see if anyone recognises them, as well as the licence plate of the van they used. We’ve already set up police blockades on every road out of town just in case. We’ll also be sending out an Amber Alert. Someone will know something, I’m sure.”

Damien’s fragile hold finally broke as the situation set in. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he covered his mouth to stifle his sobs. Pedro’s own eyes prickled with tears, but he didn’t let them fall. He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t mourn, because he still had work to do. Every second he wasted crying was a second that Roxy was in danger. “We’ll find her, Damien. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Please… p-please…” he muttered in between sobs. Martha wasn’t even responding. She didn’t seem entirely present.

“I’ll bring her home,” Pedro promised. Not to Damien, but to himself.

—

Pedro pulled up in the Walkers’ driveway. He’d put this off all morning, just searching far and wide for any kind of lead he could follow, but nothing came up. He already knew Sam would be inconsolable when she heard, so he at least wanted her to have one last good sleep. He wanted to be the one to break the news to her, so he could at least tell her gently, but he’d put it off for too long. The news report was already playing on the TV, he could see it through the window. A glass smashed somewhere in the house. It was time.

He stepped out of his car right as the front door flew open. Sam stumbled out, tightly gripping her shirt as though she couldn’t breathe. She was sobbing in between gasping, heaving breaths. Pedro ran up to her right as her legs gave out and she collapsed, catching her before she could hit the ground. She held onto him tightly, claws digging into his back. It was honestly agonising, but he ignored it.

“P-P-Pe-P-Ped-d-drooo!” she cried. “Th-th-they h-have her! THEY HAVE HER!” Her cries quickly turned into screams of anguish against his shoulder.

“We’ll find her, kid. We’ll find her,” he reassured, gently rocking her back and forth.

“No no no no no no no no no no no NOOO!” Sam didn’t seem to hear him. He could feel blood running down his back from her claws piercing the skin. It didn’t matter, it would heal. If only he’d been there when she needed him, none of this would have happened. It was his fault, once again.

“Sam. Sam, I need you to listen to me,” he said firmly, gently grabbing her head and pulling it away so he could look her in the eyes. She startled a little, still sobbing and twitching but now a little more present. Her eyes were glowing red and her face was covered in tears and snot. He ignored the fact that she’d probably just made a mess of his jacket. “We’re going to find her, Sam. There’s no question about that, understand?”

It took a few seconds, but she eventually nodded. “B-b-but… th-they’re gonna h-hurt her!”

“You can’t focus on that, okay? The best we can do is try and stay positive. You’ve got that emotional transfer thing, right? You need to try your best to send her comfort, because as scared as you’re feeling right now, she’s probably feeling worse. How is she right now?”

Sam focused for a second, sniffling. “Sh-she’s… I d-don’t think she’s w-woken up yet.”

“Alright.” He put a hand on her cheek and stroked it with his thumb, wiping away a few tears. “Let’s go inside, yeah? Everything will be okay, I promise.”

She nodded shakily, letting him lift her back to her feet. If only he could believe his own words.

—

Roxy groaned. Her head really hurt. Her shoulders too, for that matter, and her wrists. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were still too heavy. Where was she? It didn’t feel like she was on her bed; it was far too cold for that. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t even sure if she was lying down. Her chin was tucked against her chest, as though she’d fallen asleep standing up. But, her arms were above her? Huh?

Sam was… wow, that was a lot of emotions. She was terrified. Roxy sent back something comforting, hoping that she’d just had a really bad nightmare or something. Now, back onto the matter at hand. Why was she in such a weird position? It took a surprising amount of effort, but she managed to lift her head and open her eyes.

She was in… an office? There was a desk in front of her, so she could only assume. It was dark, the only light coming in from the edges of a door to her right. Was she dreaming? She surveyed the room. There were a few things hanging on the walls. A big metal crucifix, a rack with multiple swords, and some sort of… whip? She certainly wasn’t an expert on whips, but she could tell it wasn’t the kinky sex kind. What the hell kind of office was this? And how did she get here?

She remembered… leaving work, walking, and… being… followed?

She looked up to where her hands were. They were suspended above her, hanging from a hook by a pair of handcuffs, which, now that she was aware of them, cut against her wrists painfully. She could only barely touch the floor with the tips of her toes. Where had her shoes gone? Her heart jolted as the last bit of her night came back to her and she realised where she was and what had happened.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck

Roxy thrashed against her bindings, grunting against the duct tape gag that she somehow hadn’t even noticed up until that point. Her heart pounded against her ribcage so hard that she swore she could hear it. What was going to happen to her? Her mind flashed with an image of Duncan, covered in scars and missing parts from his time with the hunters, and she started to cry.

What was she going to do? What could she do? She couldn’t even move. It was hopeless.

Stay strong, Roxy. We’ll find you.

A feeling of forced calm washed over her from Sam’s reassurance. It hadn’t been in so many words, but that was how her mind had interpreted the burst of warm emotion that had flooded her. They would find her. They definitely already knew she was missing. She would be okay. She would be. No matter what they did to her, she would stay strong.

The door opened and a man walked in. He was on the older side, with a full head of grey hair and more than a few wrinkles adorning his pale face. He was dressed in a white button-up shirt and grey slacks, simple business casual. He completely ignored her as she grunted and thrashed in his general direction, instead just sitting down at the desk with a mug of coffee and a newspaper, turning on a lamp.

He didn’t do anything for what felt like the longest time. Eventually, Roxy gave up on trying to get his attention. He just sat there reading his newspaper and drinking his coffee as though it was just a normal day at the office. Well, for him it probably was, Roxy considered. She wondered just how many people had been in her position before. And what an uncomfortable position it was. She was starting to lose feeling in her hands as the cuffs dug into her wrists.

Finally, the man looked up from his newspaper and directly into her eyes. She couldn’t help but shiver. He had a look that felt like it was picking her apart, piece by piece. She started grunting at him again, muffled obscenities at a scale and frequency that would definitely get her banned from a church had she not been gagged.

“Good morning, Roxanne. Are you well?” God, what a slimy voice. She grunted back.

“Hmm,” he acknowledged. “I must say, I’m quite excited to have you here. I’ve had my eye on you for some time now. You somehow managed to knock out one of our scouts with no training of your own, and from there you’ve only grown. Just taking one look at the state of the men I sent to retrieve you makes that quite clear. I had to send poor Kain on medical leave for his arm! Yes, I think you'll do quite well here, after a bit of discipline, of course.”

She tried to tell him to go fuck himself, but the gag made that a little difficult. The man stood up and walked uncomfortably close. He grabbed the edge of the duct tape and pulled it off, agonisingly slow. Roxy waited, primed and ready, until it was all the way off. And then she spat in his face.

He flinched backwards in surprise before slowly wiping it off of his face and inspecting his hand. Roxy almost thought that was it, until his fist was suddenly sinking into her abdomen, right at her solar plexus. For an old guy, he hit hard. The wind rushed out of her and it felt like she couldn’t breathe, trying to suck in wheezing lungfuls of air as the man paced back and forth.

“I expected something like that, but you will learn soon enough not to disrespect me.” He grabbed her face and wrenched it back so that she was looking at him. “You are nothing, girl. Not even worthy of being a shit stain on my boot. You will only refer to me as ‘sir,’ and you will do everything I say, when I say it, without question, or you will be punished. Do you understand?”

“Suh… S-suck my dick, asshole.”

He released his grip on her face and instead struck her with the back of his hand. Her head rang like a bell. “Teenagers…” he muttered. “Oh well. I expected that you would require some breaking in. Besides, you have to be purified first, anyways. The Sons will not harbour a sinner in their ranks.” He walked over to the wall, grabbing the whip she’d wondered about earlier and beginning to inspect it. Her heart lodged in her throat.

“Wh-what’s… what’s that for?” she asked, afraid that she already knew the answer.

“There is no absolvement without punishment, Roxanne. No reconciliation without pain. And you have a lot to reconcile for. Not only are you a depraved pervert who lies with others of the same sex, you are also a brainwashed degenerate who willingly gave herself up to a werewolf. Doesn’t it disgust you, Roxanne? That you chose to become the property of a violent beast?”

“Shut the fuck up, you geriatric. You don’t know shit!”

He looked at her sadly. It was oddly familiar. “Oh… you’re further gone than I thought. Don’t worry, child. I’ll break the bonds that were placed on your mind. You’ll be free to think for yourself again, and you’ll realise that werewolves are nothing more than depraved beasts and violent, evil monsters. There will come a time where you will learn to appreciate the pivotal role you’re already playing in events to come.”

“Wh-what?! My role in what?!”

He smiled. “Why, the extinction of werewolves across the globe, of course!”

Roxy felt the blood drain from her face. “What..? H-how?! What the hell are you assholes planning?!”

“Oh, Roxanne, I’m just a humble recruit trainer. How am I to know the machinations of those above me? Just be a good little girl, work hard, and maybe you’ll get to have a front row seat when the fireworks start.”

She couldn’t even begin to guess what that meant. The man placed the whip down and grabbed a pair of fabric scissors on his desk, walking over to her and taking hold of the hem of her shirt. He began to cut through the material, all the way up the side and through her sleeve. Roxy tried to jerk away from him, but, given her restraints, there wasn’t much she could do.

“Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!” she yelled, an awful feeling bubbling up in her throat.

“You’re not going to be needing this anymore. It’ll just get in the way.” He spoke calmly as he worked, doing the same thing to the other side and effectively turning her 7-11 uniform into a poncho. Once that was done, he reached between her arms and over her head, grabbing the back of her collar and pulling it off, leaving the top half of her body mostly exposed. Humiliation burned in her cheeks and she tried to cover herself, to no avail.

“Y-you old f-fucking perv! Give that back!” To her horror, he ignored her and instead began cutting away the straps of her bra. “H-hey! No, no, no, no! Stop!”

She tried to kick him away, but the second her feet stopped supporting what little of her weight they could, the pain of her whole body hanging from just her wrists and shoulders threatened to suffocate her. She began to cry again as the garment fell to the floor and she could do nothing to stop him from unbuckling and removing her pants and underwear.

He sighed as he dumped the clothes in the corner. “I assure you, Roxanne. I have absolutely no interest in your body beyond its capacity to withstand pain.” He smiled at her. She wasn’t comforted. “Your skin is a blank canvas, but when I’m finished, you’ll be a masterpiece, broken down and reborn under the light of the black sun, ready to serve. Clothes are a luxury for the purified and the initiated. You, Roxanne, are neither. But we can fix that.”

“F-fuck you! Stay away from me!” she whimpered.

He picked the whip back up and walked around behind her, out of her line of sight. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might burst, her cheeks red from embarrassment and tears. She’d never been so scared in her entire life. Not through all the shit with Blaine, not when the stalker was choking her out in the alley, not even when she thought Sam had been beaten to death.

“Now then. Let’s begin, shall we? Scream for me, Roxanne. I want to hear your repentance.”

She bit her lip and waited, every muscle and tendon taut with expectation and palpable fear. She refused to do as he said. She wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t make a sound. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

SNAP

Every single molecule of air in her lungs rushed out from the force of the blow and the subsequent jolt of her body caused her teeth to go straight through her bottom lip. A line of agonising fire lit up across her back and she almost, almost whimpered. The man was chanting something under his breath; a prayer of some sort. Roxy had never hated someone as much as she hated him.

SNAP

Something slipped. Warm liquid leaked from the wound, running all the way down her back and dripping onto her legs. Darkness briefly overtook her vision. She could taste and smell and feel blood. It hurt so, so much. A small sound escaped her throat against her will.

SNAP

Roxy couldn’t help it. She screamed.

—

It didn’t feel real. Roxy was gone. Well, not gone gone, but still. She wasn’t here. The hunters had her. Leif almost refused to believe it, despite the fact that she’d seen the news report, just like everybody else. Roxanne Kindley, age sixteen, kidnapped late last night. The alert on her phone said the same thing. It was ridiculous. Her birthday was in ten days, how could she just be gone like that? It couldn’t be real. But it was. Leif felt numb.

She was walking around town aimlessly at Sam’s side, looking around for something, anything that might be a clue as to Roxy’s location. Sam… wasn’t doing well. She was hugging herself tightly, eyes locked to the floor, her whole body twitching and jerking every few seconds. Leif didn’t want to think about what that could mean for Roxy, considering their emotional link. She saw Roxy hiss in pain when Sam stubbed her toe once, and, although she hadn’t told anyone, she’d been awake when Pedro was telling Roxy about what happened to Duncan. The thought of what she’d learnt then combined with Sam’s periodic twitching wasn’t painting a good picture. It didn’t feel real.

“It’s not education, it’s torture. They hurt you until you’re too terrified or broken to say no to them.”

Leif swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the thought. Sam yelped quietly and screwed her eyes shut. Leif had to distract her from whatever was going on. For both their sakes.

“H-hey, Sam?” Her voice came out deep. She hadn’t even bothered trying to raise it like she usually did. She just didn’t care right now.

Sam made a noise of acknowledgement and looked at her, eyes pained but questioning. Well, great. Now Leif actually had to think of something to say. She looked around the street for inspiration. It was surprisingly busy, the whole town buzzing with unrest at the news that had come out of nowhere. She wondered if that was why Pedro called her last night, because he’d realised something was wrong. She only saw him briefly when she arrived at Sam’s house, pulled there by some invisible force, and she hadn’t thought to ask. It didn’t matter anyway. The silence had just about stretched to an awkward length when she spotted the perfect conversation topic.

“Isn’t that…?” she asked, pointing to a figure in front of them.

Sure enough, it was. Roxy’s dad was taping a piece of paper to a lightpost. It was the same piece of paper they’d already seen multiple times throughout town, featuring the same face that was on every TV screen in Dewsbury, cropped from a picture they’d all taken together a few weeks earlier. Roxy was smiling in it. Leif faintly wondered if she’d ever get to see it in person again, then mentally slapped herself for thinking like that.

The two walked up to him. “Hey, Damien…” Leif greeted.

Damien turned around, his eyebrows raising when he realised who was talking to him. It looked like he hadn’t slept. Leif wondered how long he’d known for. “Oh. Hi, girls.”

“How are you… how are you holding up?” she asked hesitantly.

Damien sighed. “I’m… trying to stay positive. I just… I just wish I knew why it had to be her, you know? Why my girl?”

Leif didn’t have the heart to tell him the answer, that they wanted to hurt and break her until she would follow their orders, that they wanted to use her to lure Sam in for whatever they were planning. Everything Pedro predicted when Sam was first attacked had come to pass. “Y-yeah,” she just said instead.

“Wh-what about you two? How are you feeling? Sam?”

Leif looked up at her friend and put a comforting hand on her arm. She was still tensing up every few seconds, but she’d stopped twitching with her entire body, so at least the conversation was keeping her from fully focusing on whatever signals she was getting.

“I… I-I…”

Leif wasn’t surprised at Sam’s lack of a response. She’d been pretty much completely non-verbal all morning.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” Damien responded gently. “Would you like a hug?”

Sam nodded emphatically and melted into the man’s embrace. Leif watched on distantly until Damien opened an arm in her direction. “I was talking to you, too, Leif.”

Leif snapped out of her funk and smiled sadly, letting herself get pulled into the hug. It was warm and smelled faintly of pine and assorted spices.

“Gosh, you’re tall,” Damien remarked. Sam hummed.

—

Roxy panted, her whole body quivering from shock. Sweat and tears and spit dripped from her face and into the puddle of assorted bodily fluids that had collected on the ground below her. It seemed like it was finally, finally over. She’d tried her best to focus on the comfort that Sam had been sending throughout, but it was almost impossible. She couldn’t ignore the excruciating pain in her back any more than she could ignore the deafening crack of his whip every time it tore her skin. Her ears rang. Her throat was raw. She’d lost control of her bladder at some point, though she couldn’t remember if it was before or after she’d started to beg for him to stop in between bouts of screaming.

She heard the man walk back around her to his desk. Everything sounded distant and her vision was blurry, so she didn’t bother lifting her head. She wasn’t sure she had the strength. He stepped back over to her and she tensed up.

“All done, Roxanne. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Don’t you feel better already?” He gently cradled her face and lifted it so that he could look her in the eye. He was standing very close to her. Weirdly close. It gave Roxy an idea. Anyone who took one look at her state and her situation could tell her that it was a bad, no, a terrible idea, but, in Roxy’s delirious, pain-addled brain, it seemed like a great one.

Roxy let her head loll back out of his grip limply and, summoning the last reserves of her strength, brought it careening forwards. The resulting sound from her forehead colliding with his nose was quite possibly the most satisfying thing she’d ever heard.

She giggled drunkenly and gleefully as he stumbled backwards with a cry, trying to stem the flow of blood with his fingers. “You stupid little SHIT!” he yelled. His nasally voice just made her laugh harder. She didn’t even see him grab the knife, but she was forcibly made aware of it when it sliced through her face, straight down from her hairline to halfway down her left cheek.

“FUUUCK!!” she screamed, thrashing around in agony even as the movement caused more pain across the torn up battlefield that was her back. She couldn’t tell if her eye was damaged or not, as it was already blinded from all of the blood flowing into it, but she wasn’t optimistic. It hurt too much not to be damaged in some way.

A hand roughly gripped her cheeks and forced her to look into her assaulter’s eyes. “Your actions have consequences, Roxanne! Do you understand?!” He shook her head. “Do you?!”

She tried to nod, but he wasn’t having it. “Say it!”

“I-I u-unders-s-stand,” she whimpered. Every wound on her body throbbed violently with the beating of her heart.

“Apologise for what you did or I’ll cut you again!”

“I-I-I’m s-sorry.”

His grip tightened on her cheeks. She whimpered again and tried to get away, but she couldn’t. “I’m sorry, who?”

She swallowed, even though her mouth was dry. She couldn’t say it. She wouldn’t. She wasn’t going to give in and give that sadistic, creepy fuck what he wanted. Saying it would mean losing, and-

The knife carved a line across her stomach and Roxy screamed.

“I’m sorry, who?”

“I-I’m s-s-sorry, s-sir.”

He let go and her head fell back down against her chest. It felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He reached up. There was a noise and some jostling around her wrists before she suddenly came free and collapsed to the ground in a heap. Her hands tingled as the circulation returned, but it barely even registered on top of all of the pain she was in.

“I’m giving you one chance, Roxanne. Don’t mess it up.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about, but she didn’t really care, either. She could barely move, any attempt at picking herself up only resulting in her arms buckling out and sending her straight back down into the puddle of her own blood and urine that she was lying in. She was definitely gonna need a shower when she got home.

…oh. She wasn’t going home. Right. She should be sad about that, but truth be told she just didn’t have the energy.

The man knocked on the door and two other men entered. She couldn’t see their faces from her position, but she didn’t honestly care to. “Yes, Emmerich?”

Emmerich. She finally had a name to the face of the man who had been tormenting her. Emmerich. She replayed the name in her mind a few times. Emmerich. Emmerich. Emmerich. It sounded sort of familiar. Wasn’t that the name of a character in that game Leif had been fixated on for a while? Roxy remembered the girl going on multiple long-winded tangents about conspiracies and nano-machines that had only barely made any sense, with that name coming up every now and then. Roxy wondered how Leif was doing. She hoped everyone was okay. She was just grateful that she still had some form of contact with Sam at least, even if it was just sending vague feelings to each other. Sam was angry at the moment. Roxy hoped it wasn’t at herself.

Suddenly, there were hands gripping her arms and Roxy was being pulled to her feet. She cried out as the action pulled on the shredded skin of her back. The men must have finished their conversation while she was lost in thought. They dragged her out of the room as she did her best to try and walk along instead of letting her feet trail along the ground. The hallway outside was brightly lit, too bright for her unadjusted eyes. Well, eye. She still hadn’t tried to open her left one since Emmerich had cut her face. She was too scared of what she might find.

People ogled her as she was led through the winding corridors of wherever the hell she was. If she hadn’t been so delirious from pain, she might have been embarrassed about it, but as it was, she just kept her head down and ignored it as best she could. What could she possibly do about it, anyway? Her clothes were still sitting in the corner of Emmerich’s office, no doubt ready to be disposed of, and any attempt to cover herself just resulted in the guards (she assumed) tightening their grips on her upper arms.

They brought her to what looked like some sort of infirmary, not dissimilar to the nurse’s office at her school. A man with tired eyes turned to them as they entered, his blue irises looking over Roxy appraisingly, but sadly.

“Got one for you, Doc,” one of the guards said. The doctor sighed.

“I expected as much. I could hear the screams from here. Well, get her up on the table, then.”

The men did as they were told and hoisted Roxy up onto the table before leaving the office. The metal was cold under her bare thighs.

“Alright, Roxy. This is going to sting a bit, but it’ll feel better soon.”

Roxy.

He called her Roxy. Not Roxanne. Not the name she’d always sort of disliked, but the one she’d chosen for herself. It was a small mercy in a sea of horrible torment, but hearing her name, her real name, after nothing but Roxanne this and Roxanne that all day, broke something within her.

Roxy started to cry. The doctor gently shushed her as he rubbed her back with a cool cream. Just as he’d said, it stung a bit at first, but the pain quickly died down. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to not be in constant burning agony. The relief was so sudden and so strong that her vision went black and Roxy passed out.

—

Sam laid in bed, curled into a ball. She clutched the shirt in her hands desperately, breathing in every molecule of Roxy’s lingering scent that she could. Leif was at her back, facing the other direction. There was music playing through her headphones, but she seemed to be asleep. Sam couldn’t possibly be further from it, not after all the horrible second-hand pain she’d felt earlier. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about the awful things Roxy must be going through. At the very least, things seem to have calmed down on her end. There was a slight burst of relief before everything cut off, so Sam assumed she must have passed out.

There was a deep pit of rage boiling in her gut. Her mate was being hurt, and she couldn’t do anything about it. She wanted to tear something apart, wanted to break something, someone. The longer she laid there the worse it got. Her claws itched to come free, but she didn’t let them, lest she ripped Roxy’s shirt. She needed to do something, anything.

Sam shuffled around the sleeping girl on her bed and got up. She was just in jeans and a tank top, but it would do. She was just about out the door when Leif stirred.

“Where’re you going?” she mumbled tiredly.

“Walk,” Sam grunted.

“Mm’kay… Be safe.”

“Yeah.”

She walked downstairs, not bothering to put on shoes. Carol and Tom were watching the TV; another news report about Roxy.

“There are still no updates in the search for Roxanne Kindley. So far, no ransoms have been sent, and there are no leads as to where she is. Police are still scrambling for clues, and the lack of any ransom demands is leaving everyone wondering as to what the kidnapper’s motives might be. The girl’s mother had this to say:”

The screen cut to a video of Martha.

“My first thought when we were informed of what happened was that someone was after our money. It makes sense, my face is all over town, people know who I am, and they’ve heard of my success in real-estate, so it wouldn’t have been hard for them to trace it back to my daughter. The lack of any ransom is making me wonder if that’s really the reason, or if they’re just holding back until we get desperate.”

Sam was surprised at how composed she was. When they’d run into Damien earlier, he seemed seconds from breaking down. Still, the cracks were visible if she looked hard enough. The screen cut back to the main reporter, with that same picture of Roxy’s smiling face. Sam’s heart hurt.

“Regardless of the reason, our thoughts and prayers are all going out to Roxanne, wherever she may be. Everyone in Dewsbury is wishing for her safe return.”

Sam had heard enough. She walked out the door and down the street before breaking into a run, and then a sprint. She had to do something to burn off this feeling inside her. She ran all the way into town, running from street to street, testing the air for any hint of the girl she loved. Roxy began to stir, feelings of pain and irritation swimming through from her mark.

Sam kept running, focusing on the feelings inside her. There was sadness, resigned acceptance. A flash of surprise. Determination. Hope. Sam winced and stumbled as a sharp pain hit, followed by more and more. Eventually, it ceased, followed by more resigned acceptance and a healthy dose of fear.

They were hurting her again. Hadn’t she been through enough today? Sam’s gut boiled with rage. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

A noise caught her attention. A cruel laugh. A whimper of fear. The sound of a switchblade opening. An excuse.

Sam ran over to the source of the noises. It was an alley, tucked between two closed-down businesses. Three men were cornering someone. She recognised Brooke’s scent.

“Look, sweetheart, just hand over the bag and this doesn’t have to get ugly.”

“HEY!” Sam barked. The three men turned their heads to her.

“Move along, blondie. This doesn’t concern you,” the one with the knife said. They turned back to Brooke. “Now, where was I-”

“You bet your ass it concerns me. That’s my friend!”

Knife-guy walked up to her slowly. It was clear he was trying to seem intimidating, but she was a lot taller and a lot stronger, a fact which he seemed to realise as he approached. Still, he hid his fear quite well. “I’m only gonna say this once. Walk. Away.”

Sam’s fists were clenched. She was trying her best not to growl. The only thing stopping her from smashing his face in was the tiny part of her mind that wondered if she should really do this. A burst of incredible, mind-numbing pain came through her mark and that seal broke. She saw red.

Her fist smashed across his face and he crumpled to the ground. It only took one hit. Disappointing, even if she did fracture his jawbone. The two other guys turned to her in shock. She dubbed them Fatty and Stringbean in her head after their statures. Fatty reached under his jacket for something and Sam moved.

In less than a second, she was up in his face and had already taken hold of the wrist that had gone for the gun. She twisted and tugged and there was a snap and he screamed. The gun fell to the floor. It wasn’t enough.

Stringbean was going for his gun now. Sam threw Fatty against the wall and punched Stringbean in the gut before he could get it out. She grabbed his collar and smashed her forehead into his nose, before taking hold of his gun and throwing him to the ground. She dismantled the weapon with practised efficiency and threw the parts away into a bin before doing the same with the one Fatty dropped.

She noticed Fatty was getting up. She stalked over to him and knelt down, glaring at him threateningly. “Had enough yet?” She hoped the answer was no.

She was pretty sure he started pissing himself. He whimpered and crawled backwards before getting to his feet and running away, Stringbean following closely behind and, thankfully, taking Knife-guy with him.

Sam sighed and watched them go. It didn’t help. She still felt like shit, mirroring Roxy’s worrying feelings of devastation and loss. There was a whimper from behind her and she turned, remembering the reason she’d beat those guys up in the first place. Brooke was cowering in the corner, looking up at her fearfully. She was carrying a messenger bag that looked like it had a laptop in it. Probably what those losers were after.

Sam knelt down and held out a hand. “Are you alright? Can you stand?”

Brooke didn’t respond. Her whole body was shaking and she was staring at Sam like she was the threat. Why was…?

Oh, her wolf was out. Her eyes were red. Shit.

Brooke screamed and ran away the second Sam backed up a little. She didn’t… she just wanted to help, and that was the response she got? What the hell was her problem?!

Sam’s rage grew into an uncontrollable flame and she lashed out, punching the wall next to her over and over again. The concrete cracked more and more with each hit, sharp pains shooting up her arm along with them. What would break first, the wall or her hand? Only one way to find out.

Crack

Crack

Crack

Crack

Crunch

—

Roxy stirred. Someone was jostling her. She was about to tell them to piss off, but then the pain kicked in and she remembered where she was. She was lying on her side on the cold metal table in the infirmary, a pillow under her head. Her back felt leagues better than before, but that wasn’t saying much. The cuts on her face and stomach stung. She groaned and tried to open her eyes, but only the right one obeyed. Typical.

She sat up with a grunt and the doctor turned to her. It seemed like he might once have been a redhead, if the few coloured strands remaining on his buzzed head and beard were anything to go by. She looked down and inspected herself. The cut on her stomach had been stitched shut, but there was no dressing on it, unlike her back. She could feel the adhesive bandages when she moved. She dreaded having them pulled off when they needed to be changed, but would they even bother with that? Well, this doctor guy didn’t seem half bad, so maybe they would. They didn’t want her to die from an infection. Probably.

She reached up and gingerly touched her face. The cut there seemed to get a similar treatment to her stomach, but there was a patch over her eye. That worried her.

“So? How are you feeling?”

Roxy looked up at him incredulously. “You’re really gonna ask me that?”

He looked down and hummed sadly. His attitude was so different from the rest of the people she’d met here so far.

“Is… is my eye gonna be okay?” she asked nervously.

He sighed. “I really don’t have the qualifications to answer that. I did the best I could, but I didn’t want to make it worse, so I avoided the eye itself. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Oh…”

He took a deep breath. “I will say that the cut on the eye itself seemed relatively shallow, so you may be okay. Just… try to avoid putting any pressure on it.”

Roxy considered his words. “I… Somehow, I don’t think I have a say in that anymore,” she admitted sadly, the reality of her situation starting to truly settle in.

“...no, it doesn’t seem that way, does it? I’ll talk to Emmerich about it, at the very least. Tell him to go easy on you.”

She looked over to him. He seemed genuinely remorseful.

“Why are… Why are you being so nice to me?”

The doctor sighed. “I don’t like to see one so young treated in such a way. You shouldn’t be forced into being a soldier, you should be doing schoolwork and spending time with your friends.”

A small spark of hope came alight within her. “Th-then, let me out! Help me escape!”

He shook his head sadly. “If only it was that simple. Your role as direwolf bait is too important to just let you slip away. Werewolves are a plague on this planet that must be eliminated, and the only way to do that is with a direwolf. Or so I’m told. I’m sorry, Roxy, but I can’t let you go.”

The hope flickered and died. Great. The one person who had been even remotely kind to her was just as brainwashed as the rest of them.

“I suppose I should send you back to your cell now. Or, well, for the first time.”

Roxy didn’t reply as he walked around her to the door, she just looked down and resigned herself to her fate. She had faith that her friends would find her or that she’d find some way to escape on her own, but it was impossible to know how long that would take.

The guards came back in and Roxy stood up before they could grab her. She was tired of being dragged around, the least they could let her do was walk to her cell with her dignity intact. To her mild surprise, they didn’t try to grab her. One just nodded his head in the direction of the door. Roxy didn’t linger.

They walked just behind her, telling her which turns to take at the frequent crossroads they came across. Jeez, this place was like a maze. Why did they need an outpost so big for a town like Dewsbury? Were they even still in Dewsbury? Regardless, the identical tile floors and windowless white walls were mind-numbing and Roxy already found herself forgetting the map she was trying to form in her head.

She was glad she had the freedom to at least cover herself up with her hands now. She was feeling much better than the last time she’d been dragged through the halls, so she was far more aware of every lingering stare and hungry grin shot her way, making her shiver in disgust. She had yet to see even a single woman wearing that black guard’s uniform. It made sense, given how far stuck in the past the rest of the hunter’s ideals were, but that wasn’t a comforting fact. It made her wonder why she was chosen to become a soldier instead of just being locked away as a lure for Sam. Honestly, part of her was hoping that Sam didn’t come to rescue her, because that was what the hunters wanted. The other part of her desperately yearned to see her love again.

She saw something that almost made her stop in her tracks. It shocked her with its mundanity, but enticed her with its promises. A glowing green exit sign, hanging above a door. She supposed even hunter outposts had to abide by fire safety laws. The guard on her side closest to the door conveniently yawned. Go time.

Roxy broke into a sudden sprint towards the door. She heard a scramble and shouting behind her, but she ignored it. She couldn’t stop until she was out, as much as every pounding step juddered through her body and irritated her injuries. That pain didn’t matter if she could get free. If she gave up or got caught, it would only get so much worse. She reached the door and slammed it open, finding herself in a stairwell. On a whim, she chose to go up. The footsteps were getting louder behind her.

Roxy called on every muscle she’d built in her legs to launch her up the stairs three at a time. She’d almost made it to the next floor when disaster struck. Someone grabbed her hair and yanked it back, causing her feet to go flying out from under her as her head made the sudden stop. If only she’d just kept it short.

Roxy tumbled back down the stairs, coming to a stop in a bruised heap on the mid-floor landing. Someone kicked her onto her back and a shadow fell over her. Her hair was grabbed again and her head was tugged up off the floor. God, her scalp stung. Couldn’t they just leave her hair alone?

She opened her eye and saw a very familiar face. The stalker. She hadn’t even realised that he was one of the ones guarding her. She hadn’t bothered to look at their faces.

“You,” she spat.

“Let’s make a deal, Roxanne. I’ll consider not writing up that little joke as an escape attempt, but only if you beg for it. How’s that sound?” His tone almost made it sound like a bad joke, but she knew better. His drawl was even tinnier and creepier than she remembered.

“Fuck yourself on a cactus, how’s that sound?” Roxy maybe shouldn’t have said that, but god she was sick of people telling her to do things. She wasn’t going to beg just so this creep could get his rocks off.

He glared. “Wrong answer.”

.

.

.

Roxy was thrown into her cell without warning. She tripped and cracked her head on the concrete ground, throwing stars into her vision. The heavy metal door shut and locked behind her without fanfare. She sighed and groaned in pain as she tried to pick herself up, at least into a sitting position. She didn’t want to try standing with how much her head was spinning. Her broken nose was throbbing tenderly. Yeah, maybe telling Stalker-guy to do that was a bad idea after all.

She looked around and inspected her humble new abode. About ten by ten feet across, it didn’t seem much bigger than Martha’s walk-in wardrobe. It was pretty much featureless grey concrete, the only things of note being the bucket and roll of toilet paper in the corner, the drain in the floor, and the tap on the back wall, similar to the ones you would attach a hose to. She just hoped that whatever water it spouted was drinkable, because god, she was thirsty. There wasn’t even something for her to sleep on, and the only light was coming in through the thin cracks between the door and its frame.

With nothing else to do, she tested the tap. It seemed to function well enough, cool water pouring out into her cupped hands. She took a sip. Cold, with a hint of a metallic taste, but still the best (and only) water she’d had all day, so she wasn’t about to complain.

After drinking her fill, she sat in the darkness for a few minutes, considering her situation. With no other stimulation to distract her, the pain from her numerous injuries seemed to amplify. She tried resting against a wall, but putting any sort of pressure on her back was not a good idea, as she quickly found out.

The door suddenly opened and four men filed in. Emmerich, the two guards, and one new guy. He was Asian, and sort of familiar, though Roxy couldn’t place it. The new guy snapped his fingers. “Grab her.”

The guards obeyed and picked her up by her upper arms once again, slamming her against the wall in a way that made her cry out in pain. Her left arm was wrenched out. “H-hey! What the hell?!”

The new guy walked up to her as she struggled and drew a scarily big knife from somewhere. “We have rules about escape attempts, Roxanne. You try to get out, and we take something from you.”

Roxy froze. She remembered how Pedro said Duncan lost his eye. “W-wait! B-but I didn’t know!” It was a weak excuse and she knew it.

The man smiled. “I’m aware. Which is why I’ll go easy. Ordinarily, we would roll a dice to decide. Maybe an eye, maybe your tongue, maybe even an entire limb.” He chuckled. “In that case, you’d get your wish and go free. We have no use for crippled soldiers. But in your case, since it’s your first attempt, I will take something of minimal value. Let this be a lesson, Roxanne. Do not try to escape again.”

She whimpered and struggled harder as the man walked over to where her left hand was. He wrenched her little finger out from her closed fist until it was flush against the wall, exposed and vulnerable. She realised what he was going to do.

“No! No, no, no, no, please don’t!”

He readied the knife and cut down in a simple motion. She hadn’t even realised it was done until the pain hit. Unbearable, excruciating agony rocked her whole body. She couldn’t even scream at first, it was that bad. Eventually, she remembered how to make noises, and she cried out breathlessly, struggling to suck in oxygen as it was constantly being forced out from her tremors.

She panted desperately, tears falling down her face in an endless stream. He just cut off her fucking finger.

Roxy shakily looked over to the man. He was doing something to the knife. He had a lighter, and was holding the flame under the metal, heating it up. Why…?

He pressed the hot blade against the place where her left pinky used to be. There was a sizzle. She screamed as searing hot pain shot up her arm and she desperately tried to pull it back from where it was being held out. The pain just didn’t stop. She just wanted it to stop. All she wanted was to rest.

The man finally pulled the knife away, wiping it off on a handkerchief and slotting it back into a holster on his hip. The guards let her go and Roxy collapsed to the ground, whimpering and sniffling, cradling her damaged hand.

She watched through tears as he bent down and picked up her severed finger, inspecting it. Something flashed across his face. “Hmm, I think I know what to do with this.” He grinned evilly.

“Oh?” Emmerich prompted.

“I was going to hold off for at least a month before giving the direwolf our location, just to let her sweat, and while I still intend on doing that, I think I have an idea as to how to make her even more desperate.”

Emmerich seemed to catch his meaning. He matched his grin with one of his own. “Oh, Harrison, you’re a genius!”

Harrison. Where had she heard that name before?

“I like to think so,” Harrison jibed. “See to the prisoner, would you?”

Emmerich nodded. “Of course, sir.”

Harrison and the guards left. Emmerich walked up to her and crouched down. Roxy whimpered and tried to back away, but he grabbed her wrist, still bruised from the handcuffs earlier. Much to her dismay, he immediately flipped a pair back on her wrists, locking them tight.

“I told you, Roxanne. You had one chance. You blew it.”

Oh, so that’s what he was talking about.

“I hope you like the cuffs, because you’re going to be in them for a long time.” He ruffled her hair condescendingly before getting up and leaving, locking the door behind him.

Once again alone in her cold, dark cell, Roxy lamented the loss of her finger and cried.

—

Both. It turned out the answer was both. The wall had given way under her onslaught, but not before her hand made a very worrying sound and started hurting like a bitch. She couldn’t even form a fist anymore, her fingers were stuck in a clawed position. Whatever, it would heal. Probably wouldn’t even take a day. She just hoped that Roxy hadn’t been affected too much by the pain. She’d already been through enough today, and Sam felt horrible that she might have contributed to that just because she couldn’t control her anger. She tried to send through her remorse, but Roxy just replied back with mild confusion and worry. She’d probably been too preoccupied to notice it, in that case. That was good, at least. She sent a heaping of love through the mark instead. Roxy responded in kind, although there was a sadness to it, which wasn’t unexpected.

Sam didn't know how long she sat there for, on the edge of the curb, cradling and inspecting her broken hand as she listened to Roxy's feelings slowly calming down from whatever ordeal she’d just been through. The sun was starting to set when she finally looked up. The street was mostly empty except for one person, walking towards her. He sat down next to her, a sad expression on his face. Ross.

"Hey, Sam," he greeted. "How're you feeling?"

"Y'know, I'm getting real sick of people asking me that." He deflated and she immediately regretted her harsh tone. "I-I… Sorry. It's just hard."

"Yeah… don't worry, we'll find her. She'll be back, safe and sound, before you know it."

Did he not… did he not know where she was? Did he not realise who had her?

"Safe and sound?" she snarled. "Ross. They've been hurting her all day. She didn't just get lost somewhere. She's s-scared and alone and in pain. When we do find her, it's not gonna be 'safe and sound.' She's gonna need to go straight to the hospital.” She scoffed. “Safe and sound. Safe and fucking sound? How stupid do you have to be?! She’s being fucking tortured, you fucking moron!”

Ross looked hurt, but Sam didn't have it in her to care anymore. "S-Sam, I was just…" He sighed and stood up. "Whatever. I know you didn't mean it." He turned and began to walk away. "I hope you feel better soon."

Sam watched him go, guilt slowly filling her. Why did she do that? What was wrong with her? She buried her face in her hands and groaned to herself, remaining in that position for some time. Stupid. She was so stupid. She gripped her broken hand and squeezed it, relishing the pain it brought. She deserved it. She was just so angry. At herself, at the world, and at everybody in it.

She was brought back down to earth by a feeling of worry from her mark. Of course Roxy could tell what she was doing. Why couldn't she stop hurting the people she cared about? Idiot. Dumbass.

Stop.

Oh, right. Roxy could feel her self-deprecation too. Sam sighed and some of the tension dropped from her shoulders. She felt like she was falling apart. It hadn’t even been a day yet and she was barely keeping it together, if you could even call this keeping it together. She sent a meek apology back.

A car pulled up in front of her and Sam looked up in confusion. It was Pedro’s car. Valerie was sitting in the passenger seat. Funny, she hadn’t realised that she was still in town. The window rolled down.

“You need a ride, kid?” Pedro asked. Sam appreciated Pedro. He wasn’t going to ask her if she was okay, or how she was feeling, like everybody else did. He already knew the answer. He was straight and to-the-point. Nothing else was important.

Sam sighed and stood up, walking over to the back door. “I guess.”

She briefly forgot about her busted hand and a spike of pain shot up her arm as she tried to open the door with it. She hissed and tried again with the other one, slipping into the back seat and buckling in. A Billy Joel song was playing.

“Don't ask for help, you're all alone.”

“Pressure!”

“You'll have to answer to your own”

“Pressure!”

“I'm sure you'll have some cosmic rationale.”

“But here you are in the ninth,”

“Two men out and three men on.”

“Nowhere to look but inside,”

“Where we all respond to”

“Pressure!”

“Pressure!”

Hmm. Pretty fitting.

“What happened to your hand, kid?” Pedro asked, eyeing her through the rear-view mirror as he pulled back onto the road.

“Broke it,” she answered simply. Pedro gave a concerned grunt in reply, but didn’t say anything. “Any updates on your end?”

Pedro sighed. “Nothing. Not a peep. I might see if I can’t get in contact with a raiding group nearby. I’m a little rusty at sniffing out their hideouts, but someone more involved in it might have more luck. We’ll see.” He was silent for a time, clearly considering if he should ask his next question. “How’s she doing?”

Sam hummed lowly. “Trying to get some sleep, I think. She’s had… She’s had a rough day.”

Pedro grunted. “I don’t doubt it.”

Valerie remained silent. She was clearly a little out of her depth. Sam wondered why she was even there. She knew there was something going on between her and Pedro. Maybe she was just there as moral support? Honestly, she had no clue.

Pedro’s phone began ringing. “Val, would you mind getting that?” he asked.

“Sure,” she responded, answering the phone and putting it on speaker. It was Clarissa. Oh, god. Did she know yet?

“Hey, Pedro. Just thought I’d check in. How are you? How are the girls?”

So that was a no.

“Clarissa, before you say anything else, please do me a favour and check the news for Dewsbury.” Pedro’s voice was hard.

“Huh? Why?”

“Just do it, please.”

There was a silence as Clarissa presumably did as she was told. When she next spoke, her voice was hollow.

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Yep.”

“A-are there any leads yet?”

Pedro took a long, deep breath as his hands momentarily tightened around the wheel. “No. Look, Clar, I’ll talk to you later, okay? Now isn’t the best time to go over this.” He paused for a moment, before, “I… hope you’re doing okay, too.”

“R-right. I’ll… I’ll talk to you later, then. And, thank you. I’m doing my best.”

There was a click as she hung up. The rest of the drive was made in silence.

They pulled up in the driveway at Sam’s house and stepped out of the car. Immediately, her nose picked up on something off. There was a faint scent in the air, that of blood, and… wait.

Wait.

Roxy?!

Sam looked at Pedro. He was staring back, wide-eyed. He could smell her, too.

They both sprinted into the house, almost knocking the door off of its hinges. Carol startled at their sudden entrance. It looked like she was sorting through the mail for the day. Roxy… wasn’t there. Why would she be? Why did she even think she would be?

Still, her scent was there, however faint. Sam walked up to the table, eyeing the envelopes that were scattered upon it. They seemed to be where the scent was coming from. There was one addressed to her. It looked like it had something in it, something thicker than just a letter.

Sam picked it up. It was the source of the scent. Roxy, and blood. Her hands started to shake. She didn’t want to open it. She didn’t want to know what was inside. It felt like she was watching herself through a thick glass screen as her claws slowly cut the envelope open against her will. She emptied the contents onto her hand.

A bundle of cloth, bloody on one end. There was something inside the cloth. She didn’t want to, she didn’t. But she did anyway. She peeled it open.

A severed finger.

Roxy’s finger.

Sam blacked out.