Fighter

Prologue

The bad men came in the night. Vincent was sleeping in his crib when the screams began. He didn't understand what was going on. Why were his packmates screaming? He wailed, frightened. They didn't sound like happy screams. He continued to wail. He wanted his mommy and daddy.

His cries must have been heard because only seconds later, his father barreled through the door, a thick gray cloud of smoke billowing in behind him. He rushed over to his son's crib, terrified that he'd been hurt. Vincent's cries muted as the smoke entered his sensitive lungs.

"Hold on, Vince. It's going to be okay, buddy," his father cooed, lifting the baby into his arms.

Vincent continued to wail and cry. He was so scared and the smoke was hurting his little lungs. His father knew he was going to choke on the smoke if he didn't stop crying so he did his best to quiet him down.

"Shh, Vincent, shh. It's okay, son. Daddy's got you," he cooed. The baby quieted, only giving a little hiccup as his father rushed down to the front door and out. Vincent's mother ran to them as soon as she saw her husband step out of the house. She took her baby from his arms, clutching him to her chest while tears streamed down her face.

"Oh my baby. My baby, you're okay," she cried, pressing a million little kisses to her son's head.

"Hannah, we need to get out of here. Now," his father said urgently.

Hannah nodded, took her husband's hand, and ran off towards the woods behind him. They zigzagged through the shadowy forest, hoping the hunters couldn't track them like that. They had been running for only seven minutes before they skidded to a halt. Before them stood two hunters. Both held guns packed full of silver bullets. One had a sword coated in wolfsbane hanging in a sheath at his waist.

"You should have known you wouldn't escape, Brandon," one of them snarled, eyes throwing daggers into Vincent's father. Brandon tightened his grip on his wife.

"Please, Simon, you don't have to do this. You're my brother. We're family," Brandon said.

"Bullshit. I was dead to you the moment you were born a wolf and I was born human. You let dad beat me until I could barely move. You let our mother die. And you did everything the wretched man that you call your father asked you to do. Now you're going to get what you deserve," Simon snapped, his eyes gleaming with malice, hatred, and bloodlust.

Brandon watched him, calculating the odds of shifting and tearing him apart before he or his friend got off a shot. They weren't looking good.

"First, you're going to watch your bitch die. Then you're going to watch me kill your infant son. And then, when you're so broken and lost that your wolf turns feral and wild, I'll kill you," his brother said. Brandon believed every word.

Hannah clutched tighter to her son. She knew this was probably the end for her and for her husband, but she would not let it be the end for Vincent. Not when he had barely even lived. When Simon raised the gun and Brandon attacked, Hannah turned around and set her son on the ground. Pressing a hand to his head, she chanted the words that were his only hope. To her thankfulness, they worked. Her baby shifted into a little russet wolf, who stumbled on his new paws. Unused to his wolf body. Truth was, he was too young to shift on his own so she had forced a shift to save his life.

Grabbing her pup's face, she looked into his eyes. She saw her sad, tear-filled gaze reflected in his big golden orbs. "I love you, my son. Your father and I will always love you very much. Now, I need you to run. Run, Vincent!" she cried.

Confused, Vincent turned and ran in a stumbling lope through the forest. Behind him, he heard the snarls of fighting before a gunshot rang out. A whine and a howl of mourning followed before that sound was cut off by a gunshot as well.

"Should we go after the kid?" a voice asked.

"No. We'll find my nephew another day. For now, let's go home," Simon replied.

Vincent kept running, stumbling every few minutes. He didn't know where he was, what had happened, or why he felt so sad and alone. He wanted his mommy and daddy, but they hadn't come with him. He wanted his pack, but he couldn't feel it anymore.

After hours of running, Vincent finally grew tired. The sun was slowly setting by now, casting an orange glow over the forest. He used the light to locate a cave and stumbled inside. Luckily, it was empty. Settling himself against the side of the cave with his tail wrapped around him for warmth, he fell asleep.