Emberborn

Hurry

Zack's POV

"Damn it, Seraphina." My father rakes a hand through his hair as he swears under his breath.

My mother tries to comfort him, but her eyes are haunted by the same look of guilt that the rest of my family shares.

"It's not her fault, Alpha Rhodes," Doctor Finnick sighs out, giving him an apologetic look.

"Her body is incredibly weak, which allows her mind to enter a state of hallucination. Once the poison is out of her system, her wolf will get stronger and she will heal."

My father pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes in the process and let out a hot breath.

"Alright, everyone fan out. I want someone to find out who Ronan and Dylan are.

"And what's the status on the vamps?"

"They'll be here at daybreak," Sebastian replied quickly.

"Good, so we still have a few hours to get her stable. No one comes back until she is found." My father commanded

"Wait," Doctor Finnick called out.

"Alpha Rhodes, I need to warn you about her state. She thinks that those dreams are real. I mean, you saw what she did to Sebastian. The poison is weakening her wolf, leaving her mind vulnerable to these dreams and she can't fight back."

"Her hallucinations are not dreams." A quiet, unfamiliar voice spoke from behind me.

We all snap our heads over to the small teenager standing in the doorway. There was a stone-cold numbness in her eyes as she toyed with the ends of her light brown hair that was tucked behind her ears.

There was this hum coming from her veins that stirred up holes in my stomach and this scent of lemon and mint was hitting me like a buzz. Who was this girl?

I studied this younger female as my beast grew anxious at the sight of an unknown wolf. Everyone seemed to feel the same about this girl, everyone except my father who was abnormally calm in her presence.

"They're memories," she states.

"What are you talking about?" Murphy asked, her voice a little harsher than it should've been.

We all watch as the unknown girl flinches at the tone of Murphy's voice and shutters at the power of our wolves.

"Control yourselves," My father barks into our family link and I look over at him questioningly.

"She's not a threat," he added.

"Then why isn't she saying anything?" Murphy pondered.

"She isn't speaking because you guys are scaring the hell out of her..."

"I hate to say this, but you father is right kids. If we want to get anything out of her, then we need to show her that she can trust us. So, tone it down," My mother admits.

We all get control over our beasts and tone down the hum in our veins. The petite girl with stunning features visibly relaxes and my father gives her an encouraging smile.

"Go on, kiddo." My father nods to her and she lets out a shaky breath.

"She's in a state of oneirataxia, better known as a night-terror, where she can't depict between her past and her present," she begins.

Her voice was quiet and hoarse, but soft and elegant never-the-less.

"The only problem is that regular night-terrors consist of made-up images that the mind congers up. These images aren't made up. They're a part of her, a part of her past...