Super Wolf

Chapter 4

Dedication to xXADreamingRealityXx because I really enjoy their book "Forest of the Forbidden" and because they always respond to my comments!! 

Now on to the story. <3 

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I was about as laidback as they come. I ran on my own deadlines and rules; so you could say stress was a foreign concept to me. 

But it was a huge deal to have revealed to a human the world of the supernaturals. As in death-sentence-worthy huge. 

I snapped the second guy's neck in rage. Juan should have known nothing about werewolves. Much less that I was one. I was almost dissappointed that I didn't get to drag out the first two men's deaths; this group wasn't very much fun. No one had even peed their pants yet. And yes, that happens a lot more than you would expect. 

"What the hell did you just say?" I asked, taking a step closer to Juan. 

"You should have heard me with your dumb wolf hearing," he spat, as if he was in any position to be talking big like that. Normally, someone in Juan's position would be on their knees begging for mercy. Offering me money and fame, and other shit like that. Especially after they had seen me kill someone else first. I didn't use a gun or anything; guns were for pussies. I used my unlotioned and equally unforgiving bare hands, because I was hardcore. And even with the blood spilt on the floor and the awkwardly bent neck of the second guy, Juan wasn't even sweating yet.

And the fact that Juan wasn't scared into submission was scaring me. 

"No idea what you're going on about," I snorted, cracking my knucles as I took another step towards him. 

"Sure you do, you dog," he said. I rolled my eyes. 

"I guess faking doesn't really do much good when I'm talking to a practically dead man, huh? You have four seconds to explain to me how you know about werewolves before you see a not-so-civil part of me. Capisce?"

"Why are you asking me? There are hundreds of people on the street that know the same information I can give you; maybe more," he snorted. Did this guy want a painful death?

"And when I live through this," he continued, "I'll make sure everone knows that you are one of them." 

"Tell me what you know, Juan." By this time, I had him up in a corner, and I was looming over him dangerously. Oh, how badly I wanted to kill him. But I had to know what he knew about my kind.

And then this audacious little fucker thought it would be appropriate to spit in my face. 

Entering stage one of Brinley's rage. 

When some people get mad, they might get red in the face. Maybe they push things over, shriek, yell, or even curse. 

Me?

Well, let me put this in perspective. Usually, when I get mad, I don't really do anything. And thats a darn good thing, because 90% of the time, I'm angry on the inside. 

But there is a difference between anger, and rage. 

And when I am enraged, I do something a little weird. 

I sing. 

And not just any song. Nope. The Anger Song. My complete asshole of a mother put me in anger management classes when I was a young child because apparently I had an 'issue' of headbutting walls when upset. But I just ended up trading in one weird habit for another; that's right, screeching the angry song until the rage fades away into something more tolerable, like intense loathe.