Permission to love - The Rogue Pack

Chapter 12 - Aiden

There was something that I couldn't get out of my head. Something that was still bothering me, no matter what I tried to distract my mind with. Something that kept pushing its way to the front, bringing up feelings of uncertainty and impotence that I was desperately trying to quell. 

I couldn't forget how Sam had looked at the purple-eyed wolf. The way she'd fixated on them, her eyes filled with care and warmth. I kept glancing back to watch the wolf as they stumbled along the corridor behind me. I hadn't understood why she looked at this other wolf, rather than me, her mate. She had never looked at me with that sort of tenderness. And I couldn't help the jealousy that reared it's ugly head in my chest as in my head, I pictured her honeyed eyes turning from me, turning away from her soulmate. 

Was it possible that Sam knew this wolf? That they brought up some past memories? I focused on these questions because the alternative was killing me inside. The silent, unanswered question in my mind would bring me to my knees if I dared think it aloud. So I left it buried in the depths of my consciousness, not prepared to face the possibility that the question even needed to be answered.

Instead I focused on the path ahead. We were still in the damp, musty tunnels. Guided by the faint yellow lights along the walls. The group had slowed to a shuffled limp, their progress stunted by their obvious weakness. Weakness caused by the months, or maybe years, of not having been able to use their muscles. Of having been forced to stay crouched and cramped in the corner of a cell, constantly alert, aware of every danger, unable to sleep, unable to relax. And thus, when escape was so close, almost within their reach, they couldn't help but falter. 

Finally, I spotted the door at the end of the corridor, indicating the end of  the corridor. We had only been walking for about 300 metres, just long enough to put us next to the garage, so if I wasn't mistaken, the solid metal door ahead should open up into the garage, meaning that we might be able to hijak a vehicle and escape. Striding ahead, I quickly put some distance between me and the group. I want to be sure that the room is safe before I send them in.

Pressing my ear against the cold metal of the door, I try to listen to the other side. Although the sounds are muffled, I can hear the commotion that can only be caused by the actions of many bodies. And if I'm not mistaken, it sounds like they are packing things into crates, and I can hear the shouts of people trying to manage the carfuffle, giving instructions that sound terse and rushed.

Inwardly I groan. Of course if Sam is terrorising the rest of the compound, then they would be preparing to leave. I can't help but feel a glint of pride at her efficiency, but it is quickly quelled by the realisation of our situation.

We can't go back the way we came, but we can't move forward. We're trapped, and in a much worse position than earlier, because we can't stand and fight in a cramped tunnel. And even if we could, the rest of the group are in no state to be fighting.

I'm so lost in my contemplation that for a split second, I no longer register what is going on beyond the door. I don't hear the shout.

"You there, go fetch the prisoners!"

Suddenly the door swings open, catching me in the face and pushing me off balance. I'm only out for a second, but luckily the sight of all nine prisoners huddled in the tunnel, their blanched faces peering up fearfully is enough distraction for the guards, who freeze. In an instant, I pounce, claws extended, canines ripping into flesh. I drag the first guard to the floor, whirling around to attack the second as the third sprints off. In the corner of my eye, I notice that one of the prisoners, the young boy who pointed out the switches, tears after him, obviously realising that if the guard gets chance to report our presence, our plans are doomed. 

But although the boy is faster, the guard sees him coming. Almost in slow motion, I watch the guard draw his gun, a grim expression flitting across his face. The boy hits the ground before the sound of the shot rings in my ears. Almost blindly, I snap the neck of the guard between my hands and rush to the body of the boy, lying crumpled on the ground.

His eyes stare blankly up at me. I didn't even know his name. Yet I realise that it is up to me to ensure that his death is not for nothing. Luckily, the guard was forced to slow down when he decided to turn back and shoot, so I quickly catch him, finishing him off with a swift slash to the throat. He collapses to the floor, hands gripping his neck and eyes wide with fear. 

The adrenaline of the fight dies down, and suddenly I am aware of my surroundings. I'm stood in a side room to the garage, a room obviously used for storage. Luckily the room seems empty, but the noise from next door is clear, and I know that the rest of the guards are in the room next door. And it's highly unlikely that no one heard the sound of that shot. I dash back to the group of prisoners huddled in the corners, their eyes widened, fixated on the body of their dead comrade.

"Quickly, get behind there," I frantically point at a tall stack of boxes. A couple of the wolves look up at me, understanding in their eyes despite the fear and rush to the boxes, dragging their comrades behind them. A noise behind me makes me whirl around, a group of guards has entered the room, and I prepare myself for another fight. Luckily most of the prisoners have made it to the hiding spot. Only the purple-eyed wolf is still there, making their way across the gap between the door and the boxes. I'm not sure if they've noticed their slight figure yet, so I move in front of them, hoping to hide them with my body. The wolf is obviously struggling to walk because I sense them stumbling, tripping over their own feet. I take a step towards the guards, hoping that if I intimidate them, they might not notice the final wolf. 

At the obvious threat, one of the guards raises their gun. But the commander lifts a hand.

"We don't want to lose any more of them. This one we take alive." His voice is deep and threatening, sending a shiver down my spine. 'Over my dead body' I think.

I throw myself at the group, knowing that my only chance of escape is through a fight. I take two guards down, tearing at them with my claws. But the guards are everwhere now, surrounding me on all sides. I lash out, but suddenly feel a sharp stab in my upper abdomen, and almost instantaneously fire spreads through my body. The burning pain sears through my veins, forcing me to curl over, a low whine escaping from my chest. 

The sensation of metal wrapping around my wrist brings me back to reality, ripping me away from the pain as I realise that they are putting shackles on me. I give over power to Brae, my eyes turning black as the animal takes over. He slashes and tears at everything in front of me, desperation fuelling our limbs. Having seen first hand the effect of capture, the broken wolves that emerged from the torture, we are determined to avoid that fate.

My humanity curls itself into a ball inside my head, drawing with it the pain that still radiates through me. Something deep in my subconscious knows that they had stabbed me with a needle, administering some sort of toxin. I know that I don't have much time before the fight in me wears out. Already I can feel myself tiring, my limbs growing heavier, dragging, my mind not quite as clear as before. 

The fog continues to envelop me, and I find myself going limp. A strong hand catches my wrist, putting another shackle on me.

With the last of my energy, I let out the loudest howl I can manage. An ear splitting cry filled with fear and desperation.