The Hidden Princess (a werewolf story)

Chapter 9// The lost wolf

Xavier's POV

I have to say, not many people would understand how difficult it is to spy on one's father. Yesterday I went through his entire office and while I wasn't noticed, the most interesting/disgusting thing I found was a receipt to some pharmacy for a botox job they have him last week. I mean what the hell?! How does that shit even exist anymore? I seem as though father has drawn a line in the world we live in today, separating the things he likes and the things he doesn't like. Unfortunately, Emma and Luke and all the other werewolves just so happened to be on the bad side of that line. Which is why I'm here today, snooping through his private chambers in the middle of the day at the risk of being found and killed.

I have to save my friends.

I swiftly make my way over to his drawers and filing cabinets, treading as lightly as possible in the hopes that my footsteps don't catch the attention of any guards who might just happen to be outside. Fortunately, my strategy seems to work since no shrieking alarms or sirens go off by the time I have reached my destination on the other side of the room. His cabinets are modern and pristine, not a speck of dust in sight, giving the impression that they are in use very often. I think that that's probably a good thing if I'm looking for something of importance.

Slowly and carefully, I pull open the first drawer and begin to survey the files inside. They are in a similarly pristine manner to their exterior holdings, each file arranged into alphabetic order. My mind immediately scrambles for all of the possibilities of the things that the files could be used for. Torture ideas? Murder weapons? A list of their yearly executions perhaps?

However, what actually sits inside the thin pieces of paper are profiles. I choose one at random and open it to find an image of a young girl probably at a similar age as I. Her profile says that her name is Eliza Green and that she just so happens to live in the same colony as Emma and Luke. She is pretty in a makeup-caked, dyed blond cheerleader sort of way. But I can tell that beneath that she is either a bad person or someone who has had a bad life. Or both. That seems to be the case with most of the files in the cabinet. Yet, about 4 files into my little expedition I spot an image of a boy probably just older than I am, with a large red stamp covering his collarbone. The ink spells out the word 'exterminated'.

Realisation fills me in one swift, daunting moment and all my emotions come crumbling down in a fiery explosion of betrayal. As I swiftly flick through at least 10 more folders, not caring if anyone hears, I discover that majority of them are stamped with the same sickening word. It's as though they are vermin or filthy beasts that ought to be killed for the sake of it. Before the siege, you would call to have a large man in a yellow coat spray your house for nixies and bookworms every few months. They were called exterminators too. Except this time is different. this time, my father has formed the opinion that the werewolves are the vermin that ought to be killed for our own livelihoods. A fresh layer of bile settles in the bottom of my stomach. My head begins to cloud with confusion, betrayal and disgust until I begin to tip over a bit, making me cling to the cabinet for support.

A million different things are immediately sent flying through my head. How many of these children, teenagers have been killed by my father? How many more would be killed to satisfy his bloodlust? My entire life feels like a lie. Everywhere I turn I only see blood, death and evil. all of that is because of him. Because of Shade. He doesn't deserve to be the king of the four kingdoms when he has so blatantly disregarded human rights and every peace treaty ever set down. The throne on which he sits is most likely drenched in the blood of his victims. The thought sends another wave of nausea through my system.

However, this time, as the sickening sensation knocks through every joyful or content part of me, the force of my falling weight is enough to bring the entire filing cabinet down. The massive hunk of metal crashes down onto the floor in one big thunderous boom that rings out through the room, the corridor and surely the entire castle- at least that's what it feels like. I waste about 3 precious seconds reliving what had just happened until I finally shoot up from the ground and sprint as fast as I can from the room. My knees are virtually jelly but I continue my desperate escape anyway.