Rayne

chpt.37(I)

Buckle your seat belts and grab your helmets, shít is about to hit the fan.

PSA: The song is No One's Here To Sleep- Bastille ft. Naughty Boy (play it towards the middle for pizzazz)

There is more disturbing material in this chapter but you guys are tough cookies! Part 2 will be uploaded by tomorrow, I'm experiencing brain farts atm :(

Be careful when you comment, they can be flagged and reported...what ever happened to freedom of speech?

Despite that, I hope you all enjoy the chapter and I just wanted to send out virtual hugs and kisses to each and EVERY single one of you. Due to your support and faith in my writing potential, RAYNE is about to hit ONE MILLION READS!

I love you all. <3
•••

I descended the grand staircase, constantly checking my surroundings. It was hard to get a clear picture in the dark, it used to be easier when I had my heightened senses. When I had my Mate-No no no, if I went there right now I'd fall apart. Pushing the thought to the side, I stopped at the bottom of the staircase. Feeling the coolness of the blade against my stomach, I thought about which direction I wanted to go in. Where I stood, there was a small table with a vase in front of me while the entrances to two corridors on either side of me, waiting for my next move. I didn't know what awaited in each one which made it all the more unnerving. I decided to go left since I was left-handed. Ha, it was like choose between life or death, and somehow I felt like I idiotically chose death. Let's be honest, was death inescapable in the first place?

Yolo.

I observed the Gothic theme of his home. Everything from the furniture to the walls was either a blood red or a sad, dull shade of black. Behind the decor something malicious hid in the shadows, waiting for the next victim daring enough to try and uncover what it was, who it was. Overall, his house was creepy, inside and out. It matches him perfectly.

I walked in a way that made it seem like I was sleepily wandering through the halls. I studied the portraits on the wall of men with regal profiles. I inched close enough to read the caption on a gold plate attached to it.

Mikhail Josef Archaelis
Born: 1589
Died: 1670

As I continued to read the captions, the birth dates went up as did the qualities of the paintings. My best guess was that all of these men were the past Alpha males of Silver Moon. They all shared the same distinguishable features, the platinum blonde hair, pointy nose, strong square jaw, and those arctic blue eyes. At first, I was amazed by how long these men managed to live due to their werewolf genes. On average, they lived for a century but once I got to Ivan the second who was depicted in the last painting, I scrunched my eyebrows together as I read the caption.

Ivan Josef Archaelis II
Born: 1967
Died: 2013

He was only 46 when he died? He was so young, 46 is nothing in wolf years. There was no painting after that so I concluded that was Jason's father. So many questions popped up in my head. Was he crazy too? Did he make a sport out of murdering people? Did Jason inherit the crazy? Would I even bother to ask Jason these things? Would it aid my escape plan? Mental sigh, It probably won't.

Rounding a corner, there was another two corridors on each side of me. Great, this house was like a maze. I decided to go right this time. I ended up in a large kitchen area, dark furnishings and stainless steel appliances. I quietly rummaged through the drawers and cabinets, in search of a better weapon. Nada. How does one have a kitchen but no forks, knifes, but plenty of spoons?