Wolf (UNDER SOME SERIOUS REVISION)

Chapter Thirty-Six: Panic

P E R C Y U S

I know I should just take the folder. I was well aware how much of a dick I looked like, watching this woman bleed in front of me, the fight leaving her eyes as she stared at her king that was letting her down. She was dirty, bloody, and thin. Her face was sunken in a bit, like she hadn't had enough water, her feet blistering horribly from the lack of shoes. I could immediately tell by her aura and the honest look in her eyes that she meant no harm, nor by the looks of her, could cause harm. I could've easily reached out and taken the folder, but something stopped me.

     My hand twitched at my side to reach out for it, but my memories shoved me back to when I was training to be an alpha with my father. I suddenly found myself back to when I was seventeen, still under the control of my father.

     I was bruised, exhausted, and utterly defeated. Father had sent four fully grown fighters after me, to teach me how to deal with multiple attackers. I didn't believe it was ever truly for training purposes, rather as a neat way to beat me up. I was limping my way to his office, after being called down. It was probably paper work that he was going to shove onto me, letting me do the work while he kicks back and nurses his bruised knuckles from punching me unconscious for breakfast.

     I knocked before entering, knowing if I didn't I'd get the door slammed on my fingers as punishment. I peeked in, "Father, I'm here."

     The office was empty.

     I was stumped, having been called down here and expecting Father to be here. I walked into his office, gulping nervously. I was starting to sweat, the anticipation of being jumped making me jittery. I could feel my hand shaking, my teeth rattling a bit as if I were cold. I tried to bite back a whimper, as that would surely be weak and foolish. If he was listening I'd probably get punished worse. I saw a note sitting propped up on the desk, walking briskly to it.

     'Look through these files, then report back to me your verdict.'

     This is one of the exercises he did, training me like a detective to follow clues and solve riddles and shit. It was one of his training games, one I often lost. I closed my eyes tightly and took in a heavy breath. Last time I opened the file to see a bloodied mess of a dead body, one that had happened years back when one of the pack members was murdered. It was a case I was unfamiliar with, therefore I hadn't figured out who did it in the 24 hours he gave me, and ended up trapped in the training room, a weight lifting bar pinning me down by my neck with weights too heavy for me to lift. I was left there for three days.

     I tentatively reached out for it, picking it up with my shaking hand. I felt my breath quiver as I prepared to open it. It's just a folder, you don't need to freak out. So I did it.

     I felt it before I heard it. I felt the heat on my hands and face before the ringing in my eared deafened me. A scream tore from my throat as I was thrown backwards into the floor, gasping for breath as smoke filled my lungs and fire burned my chest and clothes. The folder had just blown up in my hands. My body was hyperventilating despite my efforts to calm down before father showed up to scold me. My chest jumped with the rapid breaths and my hands shook. They were bloody and scorched, not the worse but certainly enough to hurt.

     Then I heard his voice. "You failed. Again. I made it clear to you that it was a bomb. You just didn't see it."

     "I-I'm sorry, Alpha." I choked out, trying to roll to my stomach.

     He wrenched me back, pinning my shoulders to the floor, hovering above me. My view of him was upside down, but no less terrifying. "You failed, now you get punished."