A/N: Think I might give up the every paragraph excessive italic/bold emphasizing I’ve been doing. It adds extra editing ti to consider which words and phrase to do it to that I could be using on other things in life/writing.
If any reader gets to this point and particularly *likes* seeing them in your chosen reading thod so far... and thinks that lacking this style has now detracted from your experience with this Citra POV Chapter, please drop a comnt and I’ll reconsider!
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Sothing that slled like a male werewolf was definitely not what an unmarked woman wanted to encounter alone on a dark street. Especially from soone whom you associate with the worst monts of your new existence in a transmigrated body.
> And so of the most uncomfortable for the original owner of said body. Vrika, help out. <
Based on the direction and thickness of the scent, he’d been lingering. Like so sort of stalking predator, hiding near the won’s clinic for what must have been hours and hours this morning. The thought made a feeling and a look of disgust form.
A taste that felt a lot like that juice making its way back up filled my mouth. Even if I’d begun to feel that I had been too quick to jump to worst case possibilities, I couldn’t entirely shake the idea of him having done things to Helene the woman never knew.
But more importantly... he was here hunting . Whether it was for himself, for Jace, or for the Alpha of that backwoods pack... all of it furthered the cold fury settling overhead. Tracking the scent tomorrow with any success would be questionable - and if it rained, I could almost forget about trying.
> This bastard thought he could co here to intimidate ? Maybe even potentially harm my unborn child? <
The acrid, bitter tang of his particular form of primal pheromone was mixed with the wild musk that all Duskpaw seed to carry. Just as all Ricoast I’d encountered seed to have hints that reminded of snow. Winding through side streets, Vrika’s control of the senses helped to give a clear picture of his route.
But there was sothing else mixed in when I made it to one area. Other werewolf scents that didn’t belong to any pack I recognized. Rogues. He’d either been mugged, hopefully... or more likely he brought hired muscle.
> Of course he did. Chad never was brave enough to handle his own dirty work. <
I still can’t be certain that the last rogues who ca after were not just random opportunists, but the one did claim to have soone in charge of their behavior. It’s possible that they were referring to the son of the Beta of the Duskpaw.
Past dumpsters that man belonged in and loading docks where it slled like the city’s less savory business was conducted, I found myself in the Warehouse District. Like the night I first arrived in the city.
This wasn’t tourist territory - this was where people ca to when they didn’t want to be seen by all the pedestrians in the city proper. A sort of wilderness within the urban setting. Which makes it ideal for beings that preferred to not be watched.
I moved carefully, keeping to shadows and using my enhanced hearing to carefully scan for any signs of movent ahead. The scent had gotten more recent as I approached what looked like an abandoned loading dock behind a shuttered restaurant.
Which was when I heard the unfamiliar voices. Rough and crude sounding.
"...that’s why he told us she’d co sniffing around eventually if we wait. Then we can do whatever we want with the bitch."
My bones creak softly as the partial shift strains the human form to the utmost. Leaving instants away from slinging ahead into our hybrid form. That’s when another, slightly higher pitched voice speaks.
"You sure she’s worth all this waiting? Seems like a lot of effort and pay for one rogue."
"Small packs can’t just let a fertile woman carrying their blood go. It makes her valuable. Plus, word is the Alpha here has been protecting her.
"Ah, yeah that explains it. Pisses off their leadership enough for the Duskpaw pack to make this worth our while. But I’m still crashing bad..."
I crept closer while using a stack of pallets as cover. Three figures were visible in the dim space - all of them rogues I’ve never seen from their scent... and the way they carried themselves. No pack loyalty between them, just rcenaries working for whoever paid.
"So what’s the plan? We just grab her and drag her back?"
"Pretty much. We try and gather evidence, we risk pulling trouble. Besides... if she’s pregnant like he said, then that’ll be clear when the kid pops out of her. Who cares what they put her through until then?"
One of the rogues, the one who hadn’t talked yet, fidgeted uncomfortably. I imdiately thought of Kyle. He’s their Kyle.
> Do all groups of three need one doormat? <
"...Kidnapping a female under Ricoat protection? Even before the last Alpha died... that would have been asking for a war."
The apparent leader, I’m going to think of him as Jace2, laughed out loud rather harshly.
"I got assurances the Ricoat Alpha won’t start a war. Not over so lying tramp once she knows the truth. Especially if we take our ti making so... extra evidence."
The words shocked like ice water splashing my face. That’s when I decided I’d heard enough - I’d gotten upset and ca after soone who wasn’t even here. Unfortunately, that’s also when one of the rogues’ heads snapped in my direction.
"Soone’s there."
And I bolted after hearing this Behind , I heard shouting and the sound of feet pounding slower than mine against concrete. But they were still werewolves and they locked onto my trail as I ran through the maze of alleys.
> Stupid, stupid, stupid. Should have just left when I saw I was outnumbered. <
But it was too late for regrets. I had a head start and an advantage with my mid-way toward shifting... and no clear idea where I was going to shake them. I could hear them persistently coordinating behind like teenagers playing a ga.
"Cut her off before Third Street!"
"Got it!"
They were trying to herd - or attempting to. Like I was prey to be cornered. And whether it was their luck or mine at fault, the alley I chose next opened only into a courtyard surrounded by fire escapes and loading docks.
A dead end.
...But for which of us?
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