«ѕнє'ѕ ѕтяσиg вυт ѕнє'ѕ єχнαυѕтєd»

– я.н. ѕιи

"You have two choices, Miss Harlow," the cop snapped at me for the seventh time. His exasperation was as evident as his frustration—but he wasn't smart enough to understand that if I wasn't going to answer him the first time, I definitely wasn't going to on the seventh.

I had woken up in a hospital bed with a werewolf cop and a human one standing over me. They had explained that they were to take me to the police station once I had mostly healed. The werewolf officer was there to help with me, in case I lost control or tried to run away. I went with them without any need for the bodyguard to step in. He told me that they had figured out I was a werewolf fairly quickly after I healed so fast. I hadn't been trying to hide that fact, but I didn't tell him that. I just kept my eyes glued to the floor.

Now, they had me in an interrogation room. The same wolf was here, but with a different human. As courtesy as kin, I supposed, he slipped me advice to call for a lawyer—a werewolf lawyer—and shut up. I wasn't stupid, I would listen to him.

"Lawyer," I said in a sing-song voice. The cop who had begun to sit froze, his eyes snapping to the door. I didn't need to look back to know it was a werewolf, I had heard and smelt him. I tensed has his power flowed through the room weighing heavily on my shoulders. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The wolf cop, standing stiffly by the door, lowered his head as the door creaked open.

"Sergeant, give me and my client a moment," my lawyer ordered. My breath quickened at the sound of his deep, dominating tone. It got the human out quickly. I shared in his urge to scurry and hide.

I waited for the door to shut before I spoke. "Werewolf," I stated to the man. I kept my head lowered and my eyes closed. My body involuntarily curled up in submission.

The wolf noticed that I was submissive, and reigned in his aura of dominance. I took that as a kindness and glanced up at him. He had sharp Native American features, with a long nose and high cheekbones. His waist length black hair was pulled back in a braid that hung over his shoulder. I had to admit, he was very handsome in his black suit.

"I am Charles Cornick," he said with a voice that wasn't soft nor hard. He just sounded neutral, which was even more terrifying. Every wolf with a brain knew who Charles Cornick was. He was the youngest son of Bran Cornick—who was the Marrok. The Marrok ruled over every North American pack. He was the Alpha of Alphas and his son, Charles, was the man who cleaned up other pack's messes. His version of cleanup involved broken necks and hidden bodies. He was like the Grim Reaper of wolves.

"Are you here to kill me?" There was no point beating around the bush. I was an old wolf, and okay with being killed. We all had our times—and if mine was now then so be it. Nothing says wild like getting taken out by the Marrok's hitman, anyway.

He shook his head and watched me carefully. I understood why. I was scared and shaking like a kid with epilepsy. My body was as submissive as I could get right now.

"Depends," he murmured. "Tell me your name and place in the pack. It seems your recently departed Alpha didn't see to inform the Marrok about you at the last meeting."

That was no surprise for me. I didn't think any of the Alphas that had me added me to the list the Marrok had; a list of every wolf in North America. Way to boost my ego.

"My name is Athena Marie Harlow. I was changed in 1670 when I was, I think, in my late teens. When I came to America I was traded around before my last Alpha acquired me twenty years ago, and I have been the lowest in the pack since."

His face didn't give any of his thoughts away as he pulled out a worn leather-bound notebook. He scribbled down some of what I told him. I was fidgeting and starting to feel uneasy. The hospital had taken my sweatshirt, and that made me feel bare and unprotected. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around myself trying to mimic the feeling I got from wearing a sweatshirt.

"Athena, are you—"

"—kidding me?" The Alpha was quaking with rage as he picked me up off the floor by my hair. I whimpered as pain rippled through my body, starting from my scalp.

"This is what Granger sends me in return for that blonde bimbo? She doesn't even have any tits."

I was riddled with cuts that refused to heal quickly. Silver was a bitch. I was in pain and hadn't been fed meat in a month. My wolf howled, my heart hammered. I wanted food, I craved warmth.

I gasped as something warm cloaked my shoulders. I curled up into the jacket, without thinking, and inhaled deeply. It smelt of Charles and a female wolf. My heart hurt and I could only hear the blood pumping in my ears. The scents helped bring me back to the present. My panic faded, but the sickly stench of my fear dirtied the air. Panic attacks were a pain, too.

"You have a mate." I inhaled their scents again. They mixed together well. "She smells good. Tell me about her, please."

Charles was quite for a moment. I briefly worried I had stepped out of bounds. "Her name is Anna. I met her in Chicago recently. She likes to help everyone, and usually ends up ignoring any warnings for her safety."

I hummed to myself and started counting years in the back of my head. "She sounds fun."

1670, 1672, 1673, 1674, 1676, 1677, 1678...

"The human is coming back. Tell him that you—"

The door was opened a bit harshly, by the human cop. I stayed huddled under Charles' jacket and kept my eyes closed. I listened to the cop shuffle to his seat across from me and sit. The chair scraped harshly against the concrete floor, but made no movement to show my wince; it was grating against my sensitive ears.

"Sergeant, my client and I need more time," Charles said, dominance dripping from his tone. He was trying to get the cop to listen to him—and it would have worked had I not spoken up.

"Sir, I believe I am ready to tell the officer the truth. As you know I am a werewolf. One of our pack got injured with silver which, as you know, causes us to lash out. He killed the Alpha, then tried to kill me. I was cooking at the time and left the stove's igniter on. After I took care of the sick wolf, I was fatally injured and tried to get help. Another pack member found me outside and flicked his cigarette into the kitchen window. The light from the cig sparked a fire. I believe you'll find that it was larger than expected. That's because earlier that day, the Alpha had spilled some gas he had brought through the house." I stood up, my head still bowed for Charles. I knew not to show any sign of dominance, any sign of defiance. I was old because I learned to survive, and I learned all too well what happened when you went against a dominant. "Since you will find soon that my story corroborates with the report you are about to receive, and you also have no charges to hold me on, I will take my leave."

"Now, just wait a minute there. Are you saying that the werewolves are a danger?"

I chuckled at the officer, and opened my eyes finally—the wolf was more prominent in them. The stress of my panic attack had roused her, but the contacts I wore kept it hidden well. I could smell his fear. Charles and the wolf cop behind him were tense and their eyes shining gold. He should know better than to be afraid in front of wolves. We love to chase prey when they're scared.

"You forget," I began slowly, "we are in a police station. This place was made because there are bad people. Like humans, werewolves have some bad wolves. Not all humans are good, and not all werewolves are good. This wasn't even a case of bad wolves, Sir. A man was injured—and even humans act out when they are hurt. Wolves are no different."

I tried not to show it, but I didn't like the confined room—too many bad memories creeping up on me. Charles noticed me itching to get out and stood. He nodded to the speechless officers and guided me to the door. I stopped behind Charles in the hall and turned back.

"Sir," I said, with a nicer tone to the human officer, "for the sake of the public, I suggest you keep the sick werewolf a secret."

The officer nodded to me and I went to Charles, who was waiting patiently for me in the hall. I kept my head down and followed him out of the police station, ignoring his staring gaze.