Battleborn - Benny Weir

Chapter 6

Three years before Ingrid had returned to Whitechapel, she had met a group of werewolves in Michigan led by a young alpha name Carson. The pack was beautiful mix of runaways, loners, and lost souls. In all honesty, it should not have worked. In any other situation, these outcasts would have been at eat others throats out of fear. But Carson pulled them together and gave them a home.

They had no idea what Ingrid was or that she was even supernatural at all. It was refreshing and new. She did not have to worry about anyone trying to kill her or maim her or use her to her advantage. Ingrid imagined this was what it was like to be human. To be liked and loved without fear of disseat.

They lived in an old car-parts factory-turned-sanctuary called the House on the outskirts of town that Ingrid could not care to remember the name of. Room boundaries were messily divided by tarps hung by rope and the House always smelled suspiciously of wet, but it was perfect in Ingrid's eyes.

"I love it here," she had said one day, dangling her legs over the railing of the loft. Raised above the House was the old foreman's office that now stood as Carson's room.

"It's not much, but it's definitely home," said Carson, smiling down from where he stood above her. "I just-I can't not care for these people when they have nowhere else to go. Most of these kids aren't even twenty, they would die."

Ingrid laughed softly. "Who are you exactly calling kids, Carson? You're twenty-four, not ninety."

Carson smiled too, and sat next to Ingrid. "I don't know why you stick around here, Ingrid. These people, while they mean well, are dangerous."

"You know I can take care of myself."

"It's not you I worry for, it's my men. I cannot run this pack if my people are stumbling home, beaten and bruised, after making the mistake of picking a fight with you," he said sarcastically.

"I like you people. You all have a stronger sense of community than I've ever encountered in my life. It's refreshing."

Donning the disguise of a college student visiting relatives in town who had become lost on a hiking trip, she became intertwined within the pack. She helped the group of wolves grow and become stronger with her knowledge. Whenever someone questioned her apprehension of the supernatural, she would simply wave it off and make a quick joke about "the crazy shit you see in the cities".

Of course, the honeymoon faze did not last long. After four months it came to a screeching and painful stop. Any happiness that had succumbed her in her time with the pack died when she saw Howard Long.

It was a Saturday, so she had stopped by a bakery to grab a few dozen doughnuts to bring to the factory.

"Hey," she had called out when she entered the compound. "I got the doughnuts, but they were out of apple fritters, so, Craig, you're just going to have to do with a cinnamon twist." Ingrid dug through the bag, looking for the dessert to hold up as proof. "Also, it's June's birthday, so I bought her two."

Carson came up to her and clapped her on the back, leading her through the pack to the center of their meeting circle. "Fantastic, Ingrid. I just hope you have extra, because we have a new member of our group."

Ingrid did not smile at the new face like she generally would. She did not yell out a welcome and wrap the newcomer in her arms. She instead glared and repressed a snarl. By the expression on his face, it looked as if Howard was attempting to do the same.