Of ARES

Three | Doomed to the Delta

I had resorted to counting my own footsteps in order to pass the time. There were only so many ways of distracting myself from my phone. If the Alpha found out I had been passing my time by texting Sabina, he'd have my head mounted. I hit five-thousand well over an hour ago, but somewhere in between there and six-thousand, I lost count. So, I started over.

Darkness surrounded me from all sides, the glistening of stars being the only indication of light in my peripheral. At first, every tree looked like a person, every rustle in the brush sounded like I was being stalked, and every hour felt like three. Though, after three weeks of the new patrol schedule, monitoring the two-mile stretch around Venway Park two nights a week, I was getting used to it. I only stiffened a little bit when I heard an odd sound emit from the chaparral. Trees looked like trees, and I found frivolous ways of passing the time.

A crunch echoed in the quiet dusk of the forest. My breathing hitched, my eyes immediately being able to locate the direction of the sound. Another crunch erupted from the thicket, and I took a step closer to it. The impressions were coming closer, every footfall sounding louder than the last. I stayed alert but not defensive.

"Nolan?" My posture dropped, hearing the familiar, resonant tone of Junior Warrior Miranda Hall.

"Present," I called back, watching her athletic build appear through the dense forest. Easily intimidating, she was built to be a Warrior. A fraction taller than the average female wolf, reaching around six feet, and having enough muscle to crush my head in the crook of her elbow like a nutcracker. Internally, I was browbeaten, but I kept my composure. She was just another pack member.

"You're good." She nodded her head, telling me in the simplest way to beat it.

"Awesome," I sighed, walking off to the direction of my car. "See ya, Thursday." Miranda didn't respond, not that I thought she would. Our interactions were generally brief and formal, despite my attempts at making them more congenial. It was basic Warrior behavior. When they were on duty, they were more wolf than human. Their words more like barks than actual conversation.

The lack of traffic was much appreciated. It was always a much simpler drive back at night. No other cars to dodge, and no one to judge my red-light running. I could just bob my head to the bass trembling through the speakers as it reverberated through my body, like blood pumping through my veins.

I could hear the shower practically calling my name as the elevator doors opened to release me to my floor. My feet were sore from how tight I'd had my boots tied, and they dragged like dead-weight across the dark carpet all they way until I made it to my apartment. I'd never been one to lock the door, so when the handle refused to make a complete turn, I knew I had a visitor. Peachy. Just fucking peachy. I ran my fingertips lightly across the top of the doorframe until they found the spare key I had poorly hidden three years ago and used it to unlock the door.

Pushing the door open slowly, I cracked it open just wide enough to peek my head in. After inspection of the area, I quickly came to the conclusion that someone had made theirself right at home. An empty bottle of beer and a dirty plate sat on the island, mere inches away from the sink where it belonged. The television was on, but it's volume was lowered to a point that it was nearly impossible to hear, serving as more of a nightlight than entertainment. I could just barely see the light-brown head of hair peeking out over the pillow squished against the arm of the couch.

Should have known, I thought, pushing open the door and entering with a sigh. Light snores met my ears telling me that it would be in my best interest to shut the door quietly. Creeping into my own house, as if I was the one who had broken in, I rounded the couch to peer down at the sleeping form of my little Delta. Contrary to the nickname, Alden's large form smothered my small couch. His legs hung over the one side, his left arm had flopped down to touch the floor, and his other rested on his chest. If I didn't want to break the empty beer bottle over his head so damn much, I might have awed.