A Howl to Come Home

13 - Home Sweet Home

A little short but if I continued I'd be dipping into another scene.

Cheers.

The ride in the van was shorter than I expected. Barely two hours had passed and we were crawling. Earlier our captor couldn't go fast enough. Agent Ryan had forced him to head onto the main road and through public areas before she stopped chasing the van. The MEA already had to clean house at the club, and Agent Ryan would only be adding fuel to the fire by exposing more humans to our world.

It wasn't often that Börds were exposed. Generally incidents like the one at the club were accidents. Seldom were they intentionally motivated by terrorist groups. The last time I heard of a Börd group deliberately exposing our world, was two years ago. Once caught they received capital punishment. Those caught in the cross fire were not charged, but would have been if the MEA couldn't catch the real culprits.

If these people were willing to expose our world to humans, they meant business. They weren't afraid, and therefore they were dangerous. By exposing Börds they kept the MEA busy which gave the terrorists more time to get away.

I wanted to know who the hell they were and what exactly they wanted with me. With every failed attempt they were upping their game. Ella left me at the bar with Kevin who seemed to have been working there for months. He couldn't have been working for a singular group who was after me. They couldn't have just conveniently had people in the right place. It had to be an organisation where multiple people could be contacted to do the bosses' work.

Shit. This was bigger than a simple mass murder.

This was organised. It still didn't answer why they wanted me. I wasn't exactly the best 'princess' to kidnap and ask for ransom. The Redwood clan may have a reputation, but royal children we were not.

Clare and I didn't talk beyond asking if the other was ok and reassuring ourselves. We couldn't talk about escape when Kevin was a few yards away. Testing out the weaknesses of the van was difficult without getting his attention. I had tried ripping the chains off the interior, shook the silver lining of the van hoping it would give way, and attempted to slip my wrists through the cuffs. More than once he'd told me to; "Be quiet, bitch."

Shifting did come to mind for a brief second before my wrists cuffed behind my back reminded me it would be a painful and useless idea.

The crawling van suddenly turned into a miniature hike for the vehicle. I felt every bump jar my ass and I struggled to keep my head from hitting the sides of the van. Clare wasn't having much luck herself as she winced with every jolt. She gave me a small smile when she saw me watching.

"This is worse than riding a bike," she said.

I grinned, my lips cracking. Alcohol and drugs didn't go well together. I may not know what they were going to do with us, but I didn't want to die of dehydration.

I fell on my side when the van stopped. I heard Kevin get out before the back of the van opened. I closed my eyes from the bright lights above. A hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer to the door. Cold metal encased my throat and the daunting click extinguished any escape plan. Then new heavier cuffs and chains circled my wrists before the old ones were removed.

Back to the middle ages we went. The collar that was put on me had silver spikes surrounding the inner circumference. Shifting was now a way to commit suicide. The spikes would shred my neck before I even finished changing. At least it kept my options open.

I was pulled out of the van, my ass scraping the edge and my legs threatened to buckle when they touched the ground. I sighed, and lifted each leg to shake out the stiffness. My muscles loosened up and I smiled.