The Alpha's Daughter: Whispers in the Wind [on hold]

Whispers in the Wind - Chapter 12

Okay, I know none of you actually read the author's note at the bottom - I'm onto you all, by the way. But you can read this. Because it's quite important. This chapter is co-written by Psycho_Scribbler96 - The character of Ronnie belongs to her, and she basically wrote what the character did and said. If you haven't read any of Psycho_Scribbler96's work, then shame on you really. Go read! It might be beneficial for future chapters!

Enjoy!

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Chapter 12 –

Angelo:

Everything was on fire. I felt like I was burning. My organs raged with the sort of pain that I could only imagine, and I was vaguely aware of the murmurings of everyone around me. People. When the hell had they gotten here? Last thing I could remember was being outside The Hots…and the big dog had come out of the shadows…and he had looked at me with huge brown eyes.

Before jumping me.

The gashes in my sides throbbed. The slash marks on my stomach ached. The bruises on my face were agony. This was by far, the worst I had been through.

My eyes fluttered slightly, an array of different colours dancing in front of me – taunting and teasing with every pain-ridden blink.

I groaned as someone jostled my sore body, vision too hazy to actually focus on anything around me. Maybe this was dying. Maybe I was dying. What about Ronnie? And wee Fergal? I never got to say goodbye…

Zane:

The lad they had brought it was okay looking – he had nothing on Ade, and could certainly never live up to the expectations of Radleigh – but all in all, he was rather nice to look at. Despite all the blood and hanging skin. But everyone was allowed an off day! I supposed I hadn’t looked very nice when I’d been smashed up by Dante the last time, and Ade still wanted me. Maybe the runty kid, who was spread out on the sofa, had someone to go home to.

Maybe he was gay…

He twitched under Sierra’s gentle stitching, trying to push away her hand. Her expression said it all; the lad was going to change whether he wanted to or not. A new pack member.

Perhaps Dante had meant to kill him, but underestimated just how well the Knight’s did first aid. I doubted it, though; something told me that this was all some part of Dante’s master plan. He wanted us to think that he was getting soft. I knew him. I knew him like the back of my hand. You didn’t spend months getting battered by someone and not pick up on their habits.

“Zane, could you pass me the bandages?” Sierra murmured, breaking my train of thought. Still gazing at the boy, I complied, tilting my head to the side as I tried to work out what he’d look like when he wasn’t completely mangled.

The once sandy-coloured hair that he sported was streaked red with blood, causing it to matt and stick to his sickly pale forehead. From the brief glimpse of his eyes, I could make out that they were dark – a chocolate brown not too dissimilar to Annie’s hair colour. He was a little bit smaller than the rest of us, definitely not reaching six foot – maybe the change would make a difference.

“Is he goin’ to be okay?” Annie murmured, jiggling Rosie on her hip. I looked over at her, smiling faintly; at least the wee kid had her mum back. It was just a shame that the moment had to be tainted by this. Gordon, Ade and Cal had ventured out into the trees to see if they could catch Dante’s scent.