Chapter 1

Chris Argent removed the safety from his gun and crept through the long dark corridors. He could still hear the heartfelt screams of the young teen in his care. He compartmentalised his feelings, as he remembered the many nights over the past two months in which he had been woken by the same cries of fear and guilt.

Chris was now outside the room. Inside he could see Isaac Lahey chained up and wired to electrical pulses. Seeing the gauge, it was clear that they had the young bĂȘte on the setting which prevented him from healing. Mercilessly his torturer stabbed and slashed at him with his own ring daggers. The same ring daggers which had belonged to Allison.

"Un lobo, pensando queues un cazador." Said a voice in the darkness. A voice whom Chris recognised.

Blood dripped from Isaac's month, as his head hung. His torturer, a well-built man grabbed the teen's thick curly hair and pulled it back so that he was looking directly into his eyes.

"Aun despierto!" The man stated to the figure lurking in the shadows.

"Thank God." Thought Chris.

"Wh-y h-haven't y-you asked me any-thing?" Isaac voice was little more than a whisper.

"You think we are torturing you for information?" The voice sent chills down Chris's spine. "We are sending a message to Chris Argent."

"Ever-heard- of - a- letter, box?" Isaac said between pain filled breaths. Seeing his smirk, brought a small smile to Chris's face.

"Acabar con el" Said the woman.

"If you want to send me a message, here I am." Said Chris stepping into the light. It was then that he recognised the voice's owner; Araya Calivera.

"We are supposed to protect our kind from monsters, and you take one into your home." Said Araya.

"There are monsters here, but neither of them are tied up. Now let him go." He raised his gun arm, pointing his weapon at the woman's head.

"You call me monster?"

"He is still a minor, and he does not kill innocents. To kill him would be against our rules."

"You talk to me of rules? You who keeps the company of werewolves, and bring, one into your home. Into your family? You betray your father."

"He betrayed me."

"I should kill you, but as I am in a merciful mood: Theo, desencadena el lobo!"

Isaac hands were unchained and the electricity was turned off. He fell to the ground, landing heavily on his right shoulder. He let out a gasp of pain.

"He is your mistake. You kill him." Said the huntress.

"I will not."

"Three weeks. If he is not dead by then, we will be in touch." She said with a crooked smile.

"Vamos!" With that the Caliveras left.

Once he was sure they were gone, Chris knelt down beside Isaac. The teen was on all fours, taking in slow agonising breaths. Chris put a hand on his shoulder.

"Isaac?" He said in a worried voice.

"I'm sorry. I..." Began Isaac

"This wasn't your fault." Chris didn't mean to sound harsh, especially since he was not angry with his young friend. He was worried. "Can you stand."

The young werewolf nodded before trying to push himself up onto his feet. His knees caved in beneath him sending him back onto the ground. Chris grabbed him under his shoulder, before gently pulling him to his feet.

"It's ok. I've got you." Said the guardian.

Chris supported Isaac whilst they made their way out of the abandoned warehouse. Most of the wounds appeared to be healing, but the youth kept his hand to his side as if he was applying pressure, which worried the older man.

Once they reached the pickup truck, Argent got his young charge to lie down in the boot whilst he had a closer look at his wounds. Carefully he cut open Isaac's blood stained shirt. The young man continued to apply pressure to his side. Fortunately, most of the wounds were completely healed.

"Isaac, I need you to move your hand son."

Isaac did not move.

"I am not going to hurt you. Come on."

Isaac sheepishly moved his hand to reveal, a deep gash. What worried his guardian more was its colour. It had turned black. When Chris looked up from the wound he could see that Isaac face was pale.

"I am sorry."

"It is not your fault."

Chris went to the back seats of his truck to fetch an army dressing out of his first aid kit. Once he had patched the teen up he helped him take off his now ruined t-shirt before handing him a fresh shirt. He gave Isaac his shoulder to lean on as he climbed out of the boot.

Once Isaac was safely strapped into the front seat of the truck, they drove away.