Argent's Wolf [NaNoWriMo 2020]

Chapter 8

The morning arrived slowly and gently, bringing beautiful weather. The sun stretched out over the fields, breaking through a fog that had settled in the valley. The orange light cut through the leafless trees and gave the cold day a warm glow in sharp contrast to the bitter chill that lingered in the air. The blue sky stretched out without a hint of cloud, and frost sat on the grass, waiting for the sun's rays to melt it all away. Daffodils peeked open as the warmth woke them, and the greens shone bright and lush after the storm. 

A wooden fence marked a boundary, disappearing behind an outcrop of trees. Ignoring that, there didn't appear to be any human buildings or settlements nearby. Unless the other side of the house showed differently, it looked like they were alone for miles.

Milo pulled the blanket higher around his shoulders and pressed against the headboard as he took in the view. The sun might be out, but the chill hadn't left the house yet. It was beautiful outside. He loved living in the city, but this was something else. It was a shame he couldn't go for a run, a proper run, and take it all in. It tasted like freedom. The chain on his neck reassured him that he was anything but free. 

The aching behind his eyes dimmed, and his body buzzed as the rest settled his bones and cleaned his blood. Tiredness whispered at the edges of his consciousness, but it was the lazy, 'let's have a nap' kind rather than the weight of a city full of people on his shoulders. He dozed in and out, listening to Ross' snoring rattled through their shared wall. Milo found it reassuring.

Ross' plans for him were unknown, but the man didn't seem to want to hurt and kill him in some horrific way. So far, all he'd done was patch Milo up and ensure he rested to heal. That could all change, but Ross didn't play games. He was straightforward and got creative when a situation called for it. This wasn't one of those situation. 

Milo was in Ross's complete control. 

The collar itched around his neck. Milo rubbed the silver clasp. It didn't press against his skin or irritate it, but knowing it was there made him hyperaware of it. His foot bounced, tapping on the bed as some of his usual energy returned. The aftereffects of the drug lingered on; his vision blurred if he moved his head too fast; the taste of silver rattled on his tongue and teeth. His wolf sleep contently, no longer in pain or scared, even with the collar. 

Before Micheal's death, Milo trusted Ross not to hurt him. Occasionally he'd boot Milo out of the way when they disagreed on how far a paranormal had fallen out of control but not to go out of Ross' way to harm Milo. Micheal's death turned Ross darker. His reputation spoke for itself, and he used it as much as a tool as anything else in his arsenal. He started executing paranormals for lesser reasons. He walked the line of a corrupt hunter, stalking closer to the edge with each death and each mercy ignored.

Seeing the man at the auction confirmed his worse fear - Roddy's worse fear. Ross had crossed the line. So far, his actions suggested that Ross hadn't crossed over yet, but Milo wasn't blind or stupid. The wrong move could tip Ross over into unforgivable territory.

So what did he do? What did any of them do with a hunter possibly about to kill them? The code of conduct for protectors got hazy with humans. By the code, Milo couldn't kill Ross. The accords were made long ago and forgotten by many but not by the true guardians of the line. The only reason to kill was when someone had lost all sense of self and control and was nothing more than an animal. It matched up well with most of the hunter codes too. 

The problem was: humans didn't need to get that bad to do unspeakable things. It made hunters so much more terrifying because they commented acts of utmost cruelty without a care in the world, or with sane, sentient minds. Most paranormals didn't do that. Some paranormals killed humans to survive, and some even played with their food, but most wanted to hide and go unnoticed. Committing unspeakable acts of horror didn't mess well with that desire. Humans didn't care.