Saving Nicole

Chapter 44:(Do the two fours mean double the bad luck????)

Nicole's POV
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I hate this.

I.

Hate.

This.

I hate being forced to leave the one place I want to be.

I hate this.

Mason and Ian came to take me a few nights ago. They threatened Dallas, saying they'll kill him right there, right then if I didn't go willingly. I could only look at him drooling on his pillow with his face buried in the sheets and agree.

So here I am.

Yet again at my father's PackHouse. He barely talks to me, being way too busy with the war and all. That's completely fine with me. He shouldn't want to talk to me when I have nothing nice to say.

Mason and Ian are really the two people who take care of me, if you can call it that. They are the only two good people I've met here in the Silver Moon Pack.

I know what you're thinking. They killed Carly.

But I learned that those two men are forced to do it and their malicious masks are just that; masks. They don't like what they have to do, but they do it anyway. They harden themselves into armor that my father wishes to see. When he's not around, they treat me well. Better than Spencer, anyway.

And I like them.

"Hey, Cole. Hungry?" Ian asks, bringing in a paper plate of a burrito. I currently am sitting on a bed with a very hard mattress and very squishy pillows. Those are literally the only things in the room besides two doors and a window. The window is locked and made of glass that doesn't break(I've tried throwing things at it like my hairbrush), showing a view of the miles of forest out back. It makes me itch in longing to run and shift.

The two doors are solid, one always locked and the other never locked. The locked door is where you enter and exit the prison, the only place. The other door is a small bathroom with an immaculate shower, a clean toilet, a streak-free mirror, and a bright white sink that makes me want to smear dirt all over the perfect surface.

No ways of escape there unless I plan on punching through a wall. I'm not that strong.

Looking back at Ian, I nod, hopping off my bed with a grateful noise that I don't have to stay there anymore.

Mason suddenly enters the room, spinning a gun in his hand. I've gotten used to it. He just likes having the gun with him because he likes shooting things.

No. No. Not living things. Goddess, no. He likes practicing his shooting out in the "backyard" by shooting old bottles that have no purpose anymore. I sometimes watch him, admiring the way the bullets never miss. And the gun is silent.

Ian places the plate on the bed and pulls a napkin out from under it. He sits on the floor next to me, folding his legs crisscross-applesauce. "So, The Crowns (That's what Mason and Ian call my pack) have kept attacking the border. We found twelve of ours dead and seven of theirs dead." A tiresome look crosses Ian's face. Of course it would be him who feels for the twelve dead; he's the sweeter of the two.

"Aye, at least we weren't one of them." Mason grunts, coming to a sitting position on my other side. He's the funnier of the two, but he currently isn't showing it. And then he grins. "Ian, Ian. Did you tell, Princess Cole, here what happened the other day?" Ian frowns at him.

"What?" And then his eyes light up. Obviously, this is something pleasing to them. "Oh! Damian was cornered by a few Moon wolves."

"This is good because..?"