[COMPLETED]
Jackson Hale is a mythical werewolf that rules the school as the future Alpha. But when the current Alpha decides that the supernatural and the humans need to learn to coexist, Jackson is pushed into secrecy, along with the others, at a...
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* 30
SPENCER MURDOCK
I looked around at the cemetery and watched the wolves fight the humans. The vampires attack the humans. The call of the sirens turns the humans against each other. They were no match for us. We outnumbered them all.
I spotted a wolf injured on the floor and I jogged to it. The large wolf had the golden colors of the sun and a dark mysterious outline around its muscles. It whimpered terrified making my heartache. Kneeling to the dirt next to it, I put my hand gently on his snout as it growled at me.
"It's okay," I whispered and his burnt orange eyes look at me with recognition. "I've got you."
It whimpered in my hand and I pet it softly. Looking at its wound I felt sick. This wolf isn't going to survive. With no warning, my eyes prickled with tears. I could feel the agonizing fear radiating off of it.
I lifted the injured dying wolf's heavy head and set in my lap. Petting its head with a soft sad smile and tears running down my puffy cheeks. Sniffling, trying to hold back my sadness. The wolf looked at me with a painful whimper and it started to close its eyes. It shifted into its human form. A naked boy lay before me. He couldn't be over 21 years old.
"Luna." He whispered. His voice was hoarse and full of fear.
"I'm here." I sniffled. "I'm here. What's your name?" I pet his hair.
"Noah." He whimpered.
"You did good, Noah. Thank you for your service." I cried, feeling embarrassed that his last memory is going to be of my snot-nosed self.
He smiled at me hopefully before his smile became calm and still. His eyes stayed open but never blinked and his facial muscles relaxed. He's gone, no warning, just dead. His last words were his name.
I looked up with tears falling uncontrollably down my face. I caught my reflection in the car window and looked at my face. My mascara ran down my cheeks and my ponytail was falling apart. My skin was dirtied and scarred with dry blood. I held the body of a teenage boy in my hands.
This needs to stop. All of it.
I gently set his head on the floor and stood up wiping my mascara away with my tears. The sweat on my brow sat coldly against my skin. My cheeks are heated from the warm tears and became as red as my eyes. But I didn't care if I didn't look as beautiful as the women in the pack when they fought to save their people. I believed in my ability and determination to see these godforsaken people rot in hell. My beauty was never my only weapon... it was my love for the people that I care about. And I would do anything to protect my pack.
