Wolves of Haven : Lone

Introductions are in Order

Akia struggled to open her eyes, but when she did everything was blurry. The area smelled different; rust, rotted wood, fresh water, steel, blood, almonds, and the faint traces of something she could only describe as evil. She was propped up against a hard, cold steel beam, her hands secured behind her around the beam with handcuffs. Her sidearm and cell phone were both missing. It felt as if she was hit with a sledgehammer in the head, and the blood staining half of her was the result of said sledgehammer.

"Master, I have brought you a gift," Leclair beamed from across the mill, his voice carrying and echoing throughout the open area.

There was a humming in the background, which broke up, and if Akia didn't know any better she'd swear that it was coming from a phone.

"She is the one that has ended our fun here," he continued. "Yes, she is rather plain looking, and I'm not entirely sure what they see in her, but the wolves of Haven have taken her in as one of their own."

He knows about my pack, but not that I'm a werewolf; that might help in this situation.

"Yes, Master. I know that you told me specifically to have patience and that they would come," he stammered, "but the other you did not get the pleasure of killing. I thought this would make you happy, a replacement since that young bitch died-"

That doesn't make me feel special in the least. I'm a replacement for Miss Winterfeld. I'm not entirely sure if I should feel as rejected about that as I do.

"But, Master," he argued, pacing back and forth, "sacrificing one that is revered by a pack of reputation, regardless of them being tiny in the eyes of others, would make a statement!"

Politics, I fucking hate politics.

Akia struggled to focus on the ground in front of her. If she could focus on that much, she might be able to get the rest of the place to come into focus in a timely manner.

There was no denying that Leclair was agitated; he was pacing and tugging on his hair as the hum of reprimanding echoed from the phone in his hand. She couldn't clearly make out what the other line was saying, but the few words she did hear were regret, disappointment, and pretentious. It made her curious as to how she was played as she apparently had been, especially by someone that was taking orders and doing things that he wasn't ordered to do. She'll admit, Leclair knew exactly what to say, when to say it, when not to open his mouth, and played the role exceptionally well. He never lied to her, he simply didn't answer yes or no and redirected when possible. Gut instinct told her that Leclair had done this before, in the killing sense, but the crimes being werewolf apparent was new. He was skilled at killing, just not skilled at being a werewolf, that was obvious.

"Master, please," Leclair shouted, "hear me out!"

A wolf without a pack is not a wolf, but a lost soul in the sea of man, Beowulf once explained to Akia when she was younger and asked why it was so important to sacrifice so much for the pack. Without understanding the meaning of family, a werewolf will never understand what it means to be a wolf. Wolves are not lone creatures, and you are no different. Your gender doesn't make you a singularity. It makes you special, and that is why the pack, your family, will sacrifice everything for you.

Akia knew that the others would come looking for her, and most likely Damian had already figured out who was behind the murders; he was an exceptional detective. And since Leclair was one of the worst wolves she's ever had the displeasure of meeting, it shouldn't have been that difficult to slip the cuffs and snap his neck.