Spy Wolf | ✔

Chapter Nineteen

The floorboards creaked, as his heavy boots advanced closer, his masculine smell dominant in the dark abandoned house. I couldn't see what direction he was coming from, but I scrambled back nonetheless. It was obvious that I looked hopeless. Regardless of how dark it was, I felt ashamed. Knowing I belonged to a pack of wolves, and I didn't even know how to pretend to be brave, even if I wasn't.

I cringed every time his breathing got louder, as I sat there impatiently, waiting for something to happen as my skin prickled.  I hated anxiety.

"Scared, aren't we?" His voice was suddenly close. "I can smell it off you." I glanced around frantically, hoping to see something. "You've changed." He continued. I quickly wiped my brow, as sweat had pooled at it. "I'm trying to make a decent conversation. Won't you join?" The hell?

"What do you want?" I almost sounded like I was pleading... well basically, I was.

"No, no," he taunted, suddenly sounding further away. His footsteps were no longer audible. "I get to ask the questions around here." I slumped against the boards, my shoulders aching from the stiff posture I previously held.

It was time for me to analyze the way that 'man' thought. Was he really going to hurt me? Or was this some sort of distraction... So I closed my eyes.

"Do you miss your mother?" My eyes snapped open, clenching my fists as I remembered how I stood there and watched her die. And the worst part, I couldn't have done anything to stop it. "DID YOU!" I felt a cold hand wrap around my neck, squeezing my throat as I wheezed from the lack of air. Someone was impatient for answers.

"Yes, yes!" I croaked, and the grip loosened. I panted, repaying the oxygen debt as I took in large breaths, although he'd only held me for a few seconds, it felt like forever.

"Hmm... Interesting. So you do have feelings..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, and he growled; reinforcing the fact that he was supposed to ask the questions around here.

"How did you feel when you shot that boy?"

"It was an accident," I breathed, wanting to believe it. Was it an accident? I didn't even know or remember what I felt once he was gone.

Suddenly, a flash of light blinded my eyes, and soon, the room was filled with bright, white light from two large bulbs that hung from the ceiling. Once my eyes had adjusted to the sudden change in light, they quickly focused on the figure standing directly in front of me.

"You," I gasped, immediately recognizing him from the video; the graphic death of my mother. I felt nothing but anger towards him; complete fury. He merely smiled, prepping my chin up in the palm of his hands as he stared down on me with his dangerously dark eyes.

"You remember, don't you?" he grinned, with a knowing expression. I snatched my chin from his grip, narrowing my eyes at him as I examined his stance. 

"I should have known," I mumbled to myself. "You don't seem like a grieving father." He chuckled, showing his white teeth as he sauntered away from me, stroking his hairless chin, as if in deep thought. 

"You know, for someone raised with the wolves, you really don't know a wolf's anatomy, do you?" He turned to face with me, a curious look present on his facial features. I hadn't attempted to shift from my sitting point, but it as if he looked to double check if I was still there.

"So he's not dead?" I replied unimpressed. I didn't like people who preferred to beat around the bush in a conversation.

"No... I didn't say that."

"But you were insinuating it."

"No, I wasn't."

"Um," I replayed the words in my mind. "Yes, you were."

"No, I wasn't."

"Ye-"

"Let's not proceed." He glanced warily, a few inches away from me, my eyes following him and noticing a white blanket placed on the floor with the shape of a body beneath it. I already feared whom it may be, my heart quickening in its beating pace. "Care to investigate." It was more than a command than a suggestion, so I simply complied, in fear that he would attack once again. Clearly, this man was not afraid of killing. 

I crawled over to the white covering, placing my fingers at the hem of the garment and slowly peeled it off the body, gasping as I saw who it was. It was the same boy I 'accidentally' shot at the supposed factory. Strangely, the bullet wound was no longer there.

"Back to our first question. How did you feel when you shot him?" He clenched his fists near his side, as I struggled for an answer, and instead of taking full responsibility, I did what I did best: Find someone else to blame. I blamed the Alpha for seeing potential in me, Smith for successfully training me, and Gabriel for motivating me, and... I was so lost. It didn't slip my mind how he did show more anger, and no remorse at all. This man was aggravated over the fact that he lost a working hand, and not his son.

It was then that I truly felt sorry for my actions, and as a last resort of my condolences, I grabbed the boy's hand in mine, squeezing it as the guilt finally decided to seep in. It felt much worse than I expected, the grief I bore, knowing that I took someone's life. But what was I supposed to do? Stand there and let him kill me?

"I'm sorry," I whispered, as if he could hear me, and gave his hand one last squeeze. The last thing I expected, was the for the hand to grasp mine, tightly rather, and the haunting eyes of his to snap open as a mischievous grin appeared on his pale lips.

"Are you?"

***

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Taja D'amore.