Aila spat in Connor's face earning her a smack to her own. Stars danced around her vision with her head now turned to the side. She looked across the floor to see Finn lying in a pool of his own blood, spreading out slowly.
Her chest tightened with her hands fisting at her side, tears began to fall uncontrollably like a small river as she almost choked on her rising fury, her resentnt growing inside like a tumour. Simultaneously, she was manhandled, pushed up the stairs and out of sight from the basent.
Aila ignored her surroundings. Her thoughts were clouded with Finn; images crossed her mind of the condition he was left in. Her emotions kept jumping from her boiling temper, seething beneath the surface, to wanting to hole up and cry. She could not do anything for Finn right now, and she felt hopeless.
Was Finn okay? Would he heal? She had no idea. Her world was turned upside down in less than a week; her werewolf knowledge was nought. She needed a book on 'werewolves for dummies' or 'werewolf basics, class 101'. Silver was an obvious irritant, but he was fricken shot!
That silver bullet would stay in his belly unless soone took it out. Which was definitely not going to be Finn, the last she saw of him, he looked to be going unconscious as Gabriel and Ajax called after him. A low growl vibrated from her chest as she narrowed her eyes. If she even glanced at Connor, she knew she would not be able to hold back from decking him in the face.
And right now, she needed to see how a eting with the boss panned out. She still got a slap across the back of her head after her growl died down. Complints of fuckface Connor. NOT HELPING. Her veins boiled with anger once again as she began to see red.
Don't react. Play it cool.
Don't react. Play it cool.
She repeated the mantra in her head. Calming her tense, ready to attack muscles, until she felt a little zen and arrived outside a door. Connor tapped the door politely, receiving a stunned look from Aila.
They waited then entered after hearing a low voice say, 'Co in', Aila's chains were pulled on roughly, making her almost stumble forward into the room. Aila assessed the bright room she was now in. The dark blue office was decorated stylishly, unlike the bare halls and the rest of the building she had seen so far.
A set of dark-red Nordic style bookcases rowed one wall with the occasional weapon placed on different shelves ranging from a crossbow to a dagger and a gun. There was an enormous mahogany desk in the middle of the room, and to the side stood a red-brown leather settee set with a coffee table. Aila's eyes widened after seeing Chase sitting there casually, one leg over the other, his arm draped across the back of it, looking like a brooding model. He turned his head away from her after a flash of pain crossed his hazel eyes.
Aila's attention then moved to the overbearing presence in the room; a man dressed in all black walked into her line of sight, his gigantic fra nearly covering the floor to ceiling length window behind the desk. His jet-black hair with streaks of white was gelled back tightly, not leaving a strand out of place; his weathered skin added years to his 50 sothing age, she presud he was. His hazel eyes looked down at her like a hawk from his pointed nose. There was sothing oddly familiar about him. But she knew she would rember him if she had t him before.
He clasped his hands behind his back and walked to stand in front of Aila. After scrutinising her face, his jaw began to tick as his eyes hardened. Suddenly, he backhanded Connor then returned his hands behind his back as though he never touched the man.
"I told you not to touch her." His icy voice was low and intimidating—his presence demanding fear and respect from his comrades.
"She taunts
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