City Dogs

Chapter 46

If there's one thing I learned from this mission, it's that when Naja wants something done, she wants it done now— and that she is wants to do it herself.

Her hulking wolf form stood a few paces away from the door to the pack house, and my mind only had a few seconds to register what she was doing as she sprinted at full speed. She rammed her shoulder into the door, jarring the wood open, where it swung back and forth on its hinges. The Alpha huffed proudly, turning back to the rest of the wolves who were watching her with respect. I could've sworn she was smiling.

<With a door that flimsy, they might as well be inviting us in,> Naja said. <Alright. Let's go.>

I peered through the open doorway. <Just like that? Are you sure?>

<Just like that,> Naja said, striding into the house as if it were her own, beckoning the rest of us to follow.

<Are you sure?> I asked again, lingering in the doorway. <This feels like a death trap.>

<No one's dying with me here,> she said sternly. <Now, move it. We'll have to go fast— no backing down now that we've broke the door.>

<You,> I emphasized. <You broke the door.>

<Same difference.>

<I don't think that's how it works.> But I followed her anyway.

The floor of the pack house was cool beneath my paws, the dark wooden planks lined and scuffed with scratches. Scents of different wolves mingled together, floating through the air and making my head spin; I didn't know the scent of another pack could effect me this much. The whole situation was overwhelming enough, having to return to my old pack, one ridden with bad memories, but the new, yet somehow familiar smells added even more to it.

I hadn't realized I was pressing myself against Naja until she gave me a reassuring lap behind my ear. <If you want to turn around, just say so. You've been through hell here— no one will blame you.>

<No.> I braced myself against invisible enemies that invaded my mind. <I want to do this. I need to.>

<Of course you do, pup. Of course.> Her voice was saddened by experiences she has never witnessed.

With some wolves outside keeping watch, the rest filed in after us. They were cautious but confident, moving around with stealth that shouldn't have been possible for the size of them. My practiced footsteps were clumsy in comparison.

The little girl I had talked to previously said that some of the pack were being kept in the basement— if we can just find those and help them escape, offer them refuge, then that's one less person Damon can use against us. Naja was already on it, commanding her wolves to find the basement entrance. Each door was inspected carefully, each one deemed inconspicuous.

I was growing more frustrated and anxious by the minute, trying to keep my breathing under control before I had another attack.

<Alpha.> A deep tone was sent down the link. It was Jonah, the large silver wolf who had encountered the Red Brook patrol with me. <I think I've found something.>

Naja and I gathered around a door. It looked like any other, plain dark, polished wood, a bright brass knob embedded into the surface. But the scent coming from it was cooler; air from underground was distinctive with its earthly smell. That, and the mixed scent of frightened people coming from it confirmed out suspicions.

This door led to the basement— to the people Damon had locked away as if they were nothing more than insignificant insects.

But to him, they are, I reminded myself. And so was I.

Naja eyed the door, and I winced. <Are you gonna break this one down, too?>

She shook her head. <No. It'd be too loud indoors and will probably scare them, anyways. We'll have to open it via doorknob. Any volunteers?> she asked, glancing around.

But Jonah had already shifted back into a human, his naked frame out for everyone to see. I only managed to close my eyes after I noticed the deep scars that lined his back.

<How 'bout a warning next time?> I grumbled.

<What? Don't like what you see?> Jonah grinned.

<No, it's just that some people are way too comfortable.>

He shrugged, reaching for the doorknob and giving it a turn. It didn't budge.

<Think it's locked,> Jonah said after a moment of silence.

<No shit, Sherlock,> Naja sighed. <Just give it a good jiggle. Locks aren't designed to keep werewolves out— not even the locks used by werewolves themselves.>

Jonah, being the person he is, gave the handle a jiggle. When he pulled his hand away, the knob came with it— as one does when they try to open a locked door— and the door creaked open. A staircase descended, the bottom encased in darkness.

<Lovely,> Naja said. <Four if you, come with me. The rest, keep watch.> She turned to me. <August, you stay up here.>

<What? Why?>

<Those people in the basement. . . they're unpredictable. They're scared, starved, hurt, and having strangers from a whole different pack break into their territory, well. . .>

Ah.

<I understand. I'll be waiting. Be careful, okay? Don't be too reckless.>

<Now, when have I ever been reckless, my pup?> she laughed as she descended the stairs, four other wolves close behind her.

I watched until the darkness swallowed her black pelt, then sat down. I worried for Malcolm, who was off in the other group doing god knows what, but I shook it off— he's strong and smart. He can fight his way through, and if that's not an option, he will think his way through.

That's just the type of person he is. Determined and preserving, but kind and caring. I let myself be proud of him for a moment, wanting to show him off to the world as non other than my equal, my love. We stood on the same ground, whether as dominant or submissive, alpha or omega. Because really, there's no difference— we're all people at the end of the day; people who should not be defined by what they're born as.

But then the winds shifted, and my nose caught a scent I would never forget. It crept around me in a suffocating hold, dousing my mind with ice-cold water.

Damon.

He was here. Perhaps not in this very house, but outside. The front doors of the house had been left open— more than enough space for his smell to come creeping in.

Then something took over me— a drive of pure instinct and revenge, the need for bloody vengeance— and I was running. Running faster than I ever had before.

For I was the predator, and he was my prey.