Pretty Little Reaper (Wicked Wolves: Carnage Hill Academy Book1)

(Rainy) Prologue

Rainy Reaper

'Our training is designed to break you, until you... become unbreakable.' Father's words bounce around my throbbing skull.

The inky blackness flickers away with the sound of a faint click, a switch, followed by a low electric hum.

Squinting, my vision blurs as the room comes into focus. It's hard to make out the details.

My eyes flutter as they burn, adjusting to the assaulting bright ass florescent lights. "Shit, a little warning would have been nice." I moan as my frontal lobe throbs.

The ground is cold as my arms search for nothing, but helps me gather my senses like I fucking dropped them by mistake.

Once I've somewhat put myself together, I take in my surroundings. Brick walls, cement floor, a metal door, and no windows.

The room is clean, too clean, it reeks of cleaning solvents that leave an underlying bitter copper taste a the back of my throat. I sift my thoughts, this well maintained place is nothing more than a modern sleek dungeon.

Instant irritation seeps in, I've been caught off guard.

"Fuuuuck!" I let out low and long.

I take a deep concentrated breath, and compose myself.

I exhale slow. The task is uncomfortable. My mouth is dry, sore, as I swallow hard.

A scream dances from memory as last night comes back to mind. I unintentionally damaged my vocal chords by the fake cries I forced from my chest. All an act for the privileged Wicked Wolves, who somehow decided I was there prey.

Big fucking mistake boys. They have a serious case of Alpha complex. I pause. Heavy steps filter from behind the single door before it flies open.

The moment I see him, my anger takes root and grows with every slow step he makes to me. lazily, he unfastens the buttons on his black school blazer, only to toss it over a metal stool. The single piece of furniture in the whole room.

He is putting on a show. I note how long it takes him to roll and straighten his white sleeves perfectly on his impressive forearms.

Something in me clicks a wave of numbness so cold, the deepest pits of hell could not warm, consumes me... Pure dread.

I have gone nine years without the sound or whisper of that damn family's name, thinking that it would erase the terrible, soul wrecking memories associated with it.

Boy, was I so fucking wrong. Especially if I thought I could come back to Carnage Hill, without crossing paths with their future Alpha King. . .Caiden-fucking-Corpus.

I emphasis my point on 'their' because a Reaper has no king.

'We kneel nor bow to no one.' Father's voice bubbles from the murky darkness of memory.

"Remember. . ." The asshole's deep gravelly voice is like a hit of morphine, it invades my mind with a heavy fog, scrambling my thoughts.

It's only one word.

Not a question, but a threat. Demanding to pull the monsters and terrifying memories hiding in the forgotten parts of my mind like a dreamy mist.

Dripping with so much blood. . . fuck.

A shudder and deep swallow, control the creeping sobs of my inner child back, as a single tear forces its way down my right cheek. The rolling mental fog, that is the power of his command, thins.