Trouble is coming.
Chapter Six (Invasion)
Amber tossed her car keys on the dresser as she walked into her room. Taking off her long coat and hanging it on the hanger, she stretched before she settled at her desk to finally get some paperwork done. All day, her thoughts and musings had revolved around the body they found in the forest. And the danger it presented.
Was he intended to be a threat? But the Raven Wolves had no enemies that she knew of. They were too new a pack to even have any significant ones, or for there to be rivalries between them and other werewolf packs. After all, it had only been four years since she and Gaspard had obtained land and founded the pack.
He'd looked so young, in his late twenties, Amber couldn't help but muse.
Why had he been killed? Had he possibly done something to bring it on himself? Maybe he crossed the wrong person and paid the ultimate price for it? Perhaps it really was just slaughter and he had nothing to do with it. Perhaps him being killed on the Raven Wolves' territory was purely coincidental.
Amber was resolved to notify the Council of the murder. He could be a member of a nearby pack –although Amber knew almost everyone from the two packs her pack shared borders with. Maybe he was new.
She picked up her phone and dialed for her connection in the Council. Jane picked up on the second ring.
Her friend's melodious voice drifted to her ears through the speakers, "Look who has decided to grace us with a call."
"Hello, Jane," Amber greeted, then added, "How have you been?"
She didn't get a chance to hear Jane's reply.
Amber! Amber!
Amber lowered the phone just as Jane said something, a frown drawing her eyebrows together. It was Derek. The fine hairs at her nape suddenly stood on end. A dark gut feeling told her she was not going to like what Derek had to say to her.
What is it? she demanded through their telepathic connection. Derek sounded... alarmed, and it alarmed her.
Oh, God! Amber, you have to come quickly!
What's happening? Where are you? Amber had somehow made it out of her room without really realizing it until she had to grip the banister as she flew down the stairs, lest she missed a step.
A pack! A pack is here!
Amber felt ice cold blood course through her veins. Her heart pounded madly against her ribcage with alarming force.
What pack?
A hostile pack! They're coming from the north. I think... I think they're called the Shadow Hunters!
Amber halted in her steps at the bottom of the stairs. She only heard the sound of something breaking before the rushing of her own blood in her ears drowned out anything and everything else like the sound of water breaking onto rocks at the bottom of a waterfall. Her world began to darken from the edges as she breathed a name she had convinced herself long ago that she'd never utter out loud. She felt as if she'd been backhanded across the face.
Hearing the name of her former pack was a throwback to a darker, sadder time in her life, and it had immediately fazed her. Once the initial shock wore off, pure, unadulterated anger started swirling in the pit of her stomach, bubbling over like an erupting volcano. Amber saw red. She began to seethe.
The female Alpha found herself in front of the alarm under the staircase –an alarm specifically designed for the most extreme of emergencies: An attack.
She smashed her fist into the small red box, shattering the glass and sounding the alarm.
Amber stepped outside the pack house. She was immediately hit by a scent so familiar, it called to her inner wolf. The instinctive beast stirred and arose with a fierce growl that rumbled deep in her throat. Goosebumps paraded across the skin of her arms and marched down her legs.
Her resolve wavered as wave after wave of desire assaulted her –the yearning she was never able to bury, returning at full force to further torment her. After being suppressed for years due to the absence of 'incentives', the tiny whiff she just caught of him had unleashed an array of bizarre sensations upon her that momentarily distracted her.
Once she regained her composure –with extreme difficulty—she pushed all thoughts of him to the back of her mind and subdued her wolf, although barely.
He was the enemy now. He had always been the enemy. She would make him pay for trespassing on her turf like she would have done to anyone else –and maybe avenge past offenses while she was at it.
****
The first time Amber carried her guns on a hunt for game in the area, she was laughed at by Gaspard until he'd turned an impossible shade of red. She hadn't taken it to heart though; after all, wolves did not usually use human-made weapons, if ever. But from the moment she'd seen a pair of M1911 displayed on the window of a gun shop, she'd immediately been consumed by the desire to own them.
The hands were engraved with a stunning rose and thorn design and inlaid with pure gold, which had made them a hefty investment. Four years later, Amber did not regret her decision. She slipped her two pistols into the holsters strapped to her thighs, then slid extra magazines into the belt carrier wrapped around her waist. She reached into a black crate by her bed for her special, werewolf-killing ammunition, since no ordinary bullets would do.
Dressed in an all-black, one-piece leather jumpsuit specially tailored for her, she was the embodiment of Vengeance on Heels.
Gone was the quiet pushover that had once inhibited her body, forever forgotten, and thank heavens for that.
A glance in the roof-to-floor mirror hanging on one of her room's walls showed Amber that she was locked, loaded and ready for action.
But was she really?
Her heart gave a sharp pang. She hesitated.
Outwardly, she gave no sign of the turmoil that waged a tempest within her. She was afraid that her judgment would somehow be clouded when she saw him. She couldn't afford to be distracted for even a moment; her pack depended on her.
A desperate cry for reinforcements rang out in her head.
Amber raced out of the mansion, leaving the front door wide open behind her.
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
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