The Alpha Werewolf's Rejected Mate is an Eldritch Abomination

Chapter 8: Gastrodia

This chapter is brought to you by The Deaf Sky by Kim Yeji. 

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Everything was resolved within a single night.

The warriors of the Meute de Loupe have rounded up all the rogue werewolves and dragged them out of the cabin with their wrists and ankles tied up via silver shackles.

They all stood outside in awkward silence.

A cold breeze blew past them.

Some of the werewolves who only had on a pair of shorts to protect their modesty, sneezed.

"... What are we waiting for?" One of the rogue werewolves, presumably the one in charge, asked.

"Pick up," Xander answered gruffly. He repressed a shiver.

While werewolf bodies tended to run hot, their human form couldn't resist temperatures below thirty degrees Fahrenheit.

The surrounding territory that made up the school grounds and pack houses was chosen specifically for their climates, which catered to their wolf forms.

And without the assistance of adrenaline running through their veins from their own pack Alpha being kidnapped, the pack felt quite miserable out in the cold.

Twenty (very long) minutes later, eight flashy sports cars cut through the woods and drove up to the cabin with loud roaring engines.

Every werewolf winced.

"Okay, who let the puppies drive?!" Xavier demanded, covering his sensitive ears as he glared at the very colorful display of wealth.

All werewolves have limited color receptors, so they can distinguish yellow and blue, and a variety shades of gray.

While the colors before him appeared fairly neutral, Xavier knew that the puppies had purposely chosen the ugliest ranges of colors known to mankind.

Why they even have these sports cars was beyond him.

He made a note to speak with the accountant once they got back.

One of the rogues whistled in appreciation at the sight of the sports cars, and Xavier questioned his aesthetics.

Xander grunted and roughly shoved the leader toward one of the cars.

"Get the prisoners inside!"

The rogue werewolves were separated into pairs and frogmarched into the sports cars one by one.

Two warriors accompanied each of them.

Korvin supported Fenris to a Cadillac and helped him inside.

He buckled them in and nodded to the driver.

The driver, a curly-haired boy who looked no older than fifteen, beamed at him and then immediately stepped on the peddle.

Neither Fenris nor Korvin were prepared when the car started driving at ninety miles per hour through the darkness and trees.

"The lights! Turn on the headlights!" Korvin screamed.

The kid—the puppy that shouldn't be driving because he likely didn't even have a permit and oh Moon Goddess, who let him drive?!—just turned to him and smiled.

"It's alright. I can see perfectly fine."

"Look at the road!" Fenris shouted.

The boy turned the car sharply and dodged a tree.

Holy shit.

Korvin covered his eyes and started to pray.

Goddess of the moon, I am a mere mortal trying to live his best life...