The Huntress
- Reads 37
- Votes 2
- Parts 3
MatureOngoing6m
Last published Tue, May 23, 2017
"Run Stevie!" I yelled. I saw her freeze before shooting off down the cold, wet pavement. Me on the other hand, well I didn't run as fast as her but I ran. I had to make sure she was safe, even if that meant I had to die.
I looked behind me to see nothing but the long wet road. But I knew he was out there. He was waiting for his chance to make his move and kill. I stopped and listened. The woods around the road was silent.
Head quarters was just little bit up the road. By now I'm sure Stevie is there, yelling and screaming for someone to help. I could she her now, throwing her hands around like a maniac, yelling for James to come save me.
There was a loud growl and I knew he was watching me. Loud thuds could be heard as he walked. Then he emerged from the woods. His fur was so dark I almost didn't see him. He snarled at me. The look in his cold blue eyes said it all. He was angered by what I done. Then quick as lightning he ran at me.
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Re-posting. The common story is that finding a mate is supposed to make the wolf stronger. For an alpha, finding his mate, blessed by the moon goddess, strengthens the pack. But there can be such darkness hidden in that dynamic. Even those of cruel hearts can seek the power of a mate. And the damage they cause might not ever be healed. ***** Prologue: Drip. Drip. Drip. The rhythm or the water would have been soothing if it hadn't been so cruel. Drip. As it was, it was nothing more than a taunting form of torture. Drip. Ears could hear the soft thudding of raindrops at the end of the hall as a door was pulled open in squeaking protests and then shut with a harsh metallic clang. How the rain made its way into the depths of the cement room, it didn't matter. It was there. Drip. Step. Drip. Step. The footsteps were strong and full of purpose. Though just as unwanted as the drops of water that fell too far out of reach. Unable to quench the dehydrated desperation chained to the wall. Drip. Step. Drip. Step. Only one set of footsteps. There was no question of the destination or purpose that carried them down the hall. Not that it was a surprise. It was always the same. First the pain, then the visit. The cell door opened to darkness. There was no energy to move, not even enough to will eyelids to open. Not that it mattered. The visit never changed. What more could be said? What more could be done? All that mattered was that stale, barely edible food was only given after he was done. Only then, could there be any comfort from hell. ***** WARNING- This story does delve into topics of kidnapping, imprisonment, rape, murder, and violence. Though the scenes are not explicitly detailed, underage readers are discouraged. Also note that I do not own the rights to any photos I have or might post for this story. Just photos I found online, cropped and edited. The story however, is all mine. No copy of content is permitted.
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