First off, I wanted to say I am aware of how long it's been since I last updated this story, and I sincerely apologize. I didn't forget about it. I switched to a new school this year and I've just been trying to adjust to the culture shock and the teachers' homework expectations- you know, all that good stuff. Anyway, this is a short chapter just to see if there's still any interest in this story. If it gets a response, I'll go from there :)

The waitress set four cups of steaming coffee down on the table in front of us, dispersing them accordingly- the whole time, without taking her eyes off of Isaac, who was staring at something outside of the window, completely unnoticing of her gaze.

With an aggravated sigh, she flipped her notepad out and pulled the pen from behind her ear.

"Have you all decided what you'd like?" She asked, tapping her foot on the dirty tiles.

I could hear the grains of dirt grinding into the floor beneath her toes.

Peter, who I'd somehow gotten stuck in the corner of the booth beside, leaned over towards the waitress casually, "Actually, I did see something I might like to try; but, unfortunately, it's not on the menu."

She bit her bottom lip, blushing as she strained out a flirtatious giggle.

I rolled my eyes, turning my attention instead to the exterior of the glass that separated us from the chilly afternoon air.

As I sat, taking in the scenery of the busy downtown street, it didn't take long for me to notice what Isaac was staring at.

Across the street from the diner was a little corner shop- the kind with trinkets, over the counter headache medication, and overpriced greeting cards. Standing to the right of the open doorway were two exceptionally large men in matching black leather jackets. They looked like cadets lined up for roll call: arms bent to meet behind their backs, feet shoulder-width apart, and chins tilted slightly back with jaws clenched tight. Their eyes moved around diligently, scanning their surroundings with scrutiny.

One had light brown skin and a shaved head while the other was fair of complexion with dirty blonde waves stopping just above his eyebrows.

Their stoic, still demeanors contrasted the general ambience released from the outside: scattered, busy, and lively.

I felt something brush my knee and turned to see Isaac, wiping his hand across his neck with a purposeful sweep.

He glanced at me and nodded, turning his attention back to the men across the street from us.

I fixed my gaze on them, blurring any other distracting images, and focused on their necks.

From afar, with my bad -for a wolf- vision, I could see the faint outcrop of a tattoo on each of their necks, equal in size, shape, and dark color.

Behind me, I could hear Peter's smooth voice still hitting on the waitress, so I turned my head slightly and spoke.

"Is that-" I began quietly, but Isaac affirmed my suspicion with another tap to my knee.

The mark of the alphas.

I understood his need to be as discreet as possible. If we were to make any sudden, panicky or unwarranted movement, it could tip them off.

So I just pulled my head back down to rest in my palm, flipping through the menu casually while Isaac did the same, not completely letting the men out of his peripheral vision.

"And you two?" The waitress said, beckoning to Isaac and myself. "Have either of you decided what you want?"

She turned to me first and I looked to Isaac, hoping he'd go on and make his order to give me time to pick something, anything off of the menu. I hadn't ordered at a restaurant since I could remember; my father always chose for me.

But now, with the freedom to decide what I wanted for my own meal, I couldn't speak.

Without a thought, she turned her full attention back to Isaac. "Do you know what you'd like, sir?"

She smiled at him sweetly.

Sir, I mocked her in my head, trying to keep my expression blank.

"Yeah," he replied, not really making eye contact with her. He fidgeted a little bit, trying to regain his focus, "I'll take the number two with fries. And uh," he looked over to me, "we'll split it. I'm not very hungry."

"Yeah, me either," I agreed.

His eyes were sliding back over toward the window, directing me.

I turned back slightly, realizing that the dark figures of the men had moved to the edge of the curb, still as marble, facing directly towards us.

I turned to Derek with a quick smile, trying and failing to pretend to commence small talk.

"Don't look around when I tell you this," I said, "but I think we need to leave."

"Like, now." Isaac added, rearranging the salt and pepper shakers.

"They're here," Derek remarked, more a statement than a question.

I nodded, sipping at the water in the red plastic cup I was spinning around with my nails.

"That's a shame," remarked Peter. "I was just beginning to have a little fun."

"Well you'll have plenty of time for fun if they catch us," Derek said. He pulled his wallet out, flipping a few dollar bills down onto the table. "Come on, time to go."

And without hesitation, he hopped out of the booth, Isaac following, then Peter, and then myself.

We made our way to the hallway leading to the bathroom, a big red 'exit' sign hanging in front of the door at the very back.

"Isaac. Charlie," Derek said, turning to face us, "you two go out the bathroom windows. If they're out there, it'll be easier to catch us if we're in a pack. It's better that we stay separated."

"Where do we go?" Isaac asked, glancing at me and then back to Derek.

"We'll need to meet up somewhere they'd never expect," I offered. "Somewhere not wreaking of wolves."

Peter stood silently, watching as we muttered amongst ourselves.

"The school," Derek said. "There are a thousand kids that walk that hall daily, it's the only place our scent won't be completely evident."

Isaac nodded.

"We'll run the perimeter of the block," he directed. "No short cuts, no clear paths, and no stopping until you get there. And if you get caught, you're on your own until I get a ransom note. We clear?"

We nodded in unison.

"Good," Derek said, then pointed at the restroom doors. "Now go."

As if we were competing in an obstacle course race, Isaac and I let off the brakes, pressing our accelerators to the max, hurtling ourselves through the doors.

I barely bothered to turn around to see the back of Derek's t-shirt as he and Peter raced the other way.

When I got into the bathroom, I locked the door, shrugging off my jacket and tying it tightly around my waste. I hopped onto the tank of the toilet, prying the grimy window open with my claws.

It took about a minute of prodding, wiggling, and coaxing to get the pane to slide up enough that I could slip out, rolling a somersault onto the ground below.

I looked over to see Isaac, landing about the same time I had.

He looked over at me with a sly grin and took off, a wind of energy wiping past me as he disappeared into the web of streets behind the diner.

He went right and I went straight, assuming Derek and Peter had turned left.

Seeing the outcrop of trees about a half mile away on my path, I picked up speed, sprinting until I met the forest edge. I slowed, trying to obey Derek's command not to stop.

The raw skin on my neck burned, so I pulled the jacket back on, zipping it up to the neck for what little relief it could offer.

Panting, I made my way south, trying to remember exactly where the school was.

When I made it to a familiar strip of road, which I recognized as the back way to the school, I turned right onto it, pausing once I saw the silhouette of the high school across the field.

Not wanting to take the chance of being seen, I ducked into the trees adjacent to the field, running down the perimeter as I looked around carefully, listening for any approaching sounds. Hearing none, I slowed my sprint to a semi-jog, wanting eagerly to make it to the "safety" of the convening point.

I made it to the rear corner of the school, behind the lacrosse field, scanning the campus for any movement.

When I didn't see anything, I turned back to the forest and fell against a tree trunk, doubling over to catch my breath.

All of the sudden, I felt the hair on my neck prickle, alerting me to something in close proximity.

And just as soon as I began to stand, I felt a finger touch my shoulder.

I jumped, gasping as I turned to see an unexpectedly familiar face looking at me with a perplexing stare.

"Ian?" I said his name, his presence baffling and seemingly surreal.

"Yeah," he said. "It's.. Charlie, right?"

I nodded.

"You practicing for the five-k or something?" He asked.

"No, I just- um," I stopped, brushing the shrubbery off my face, deciding to redirect the question. "What are you doing out here?"

He held a lacrosse stick up, "Practicing for try outs. I'm planning on making first line next year."

My mouth formed the response, "O", but I couldn't make the sound come out as I struggled to level my breathing.

"Are you okay?" He asked. "You look a little, uh, frazzled." He said the word delicately, his eyes drifting to the bottom of my neck.

I pulled the jacket up tighter around my throat, "I was just out running and I thought I heard something behind me so I decided to… not take any chances."

"Oh, I see," he replied. "Well, just so you know, there hasn't been a bear sighting or anything in these woods for over a decade. Nothing but dear and tree frogs, I'm afraid. Which is a little weird, but still."

"Yeah," I said, unable to articulate further, because I could probably have guessed on the reason for that oddity. "I guess I just heard a stick fall or something then."

"Probably," he nodded, turning back around to face the field.

In the goal were some balls scattered all over the ground, and a few lay behind and to the sides- but only two or three.

"Good aim," I mused.

"Yeah," he grinned. "The ones that didn't make the goal were the result of an incomplete somersault landing."

I chuckled a little bit. "Oh, so you're an acrobat too, huh?"

"Only on the weekends. You know, when I'm not fighting crime and teaching small children to read."

"Super hero and good Samaritan," I observed. "That should make for an impressive college transcript."

"Oh, I'm not going to college," he said. "As soon as I get my diploma, it's off to the Marines."

"Ready to leave home?"

"Well, ready to leave my dad," Ian said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's a little bit… overbearing. Sometimes."

"Yeah, I understand."

For a moment of silent reflection, we both stood and quietly on looked the stillness of the field.

In the distance, I could see Derek's shoulder's dipping behind some dumpster at the back of the school.

Suddenly, I realized I'd totally forgotten what I'd come here for.

I turned to Ian, shoving my cold hands in my pockets, "Well, I guess I better get going. It looks like it's about to storm."

This wasn't a stretch. The clouds were thick and gray, hanging low above our heads.

He agreed, "Yeah, I probably need to leave as well. I'm sure my brother will be wanting his truck back.." he paused for a minute, mouth remaining open as if he had something else he wanted to say, but wasn't sure if he should. Then, he shrugged, "Hey, I was just wondering," he began.

I dipped my head, not trying to rush him as I was anxious to get over to my alpha.

"Yeah?"

"There's a parkour meet tomorrow night at the rival school. It's not exactly a popular event, but you seem like you would enjoy it. I just thought I might let you know, and maybe you'd like to come check it out?"

I nodded, trying to force a smile. "That sounds like it'd be a lot of fun," I said. "I'll definitely try to be there. What time?"

"It starts at seven, but if you want a good seat, I suggest getting there about six-thirty."

"A good seat?"

"You'll just have to come and see what I mean," he told me, raising an eyebrow at me. "See you there."

"See you," I said, waving as he walked back over toward his truck and hurled his lacrosse shaft into the back of the truck and walked over to the balls, tossing each one into the truck bed as well.

I waited until he was good and out of sight to make my way over to the back of the school.

I saw the back door had been jimmied open, probably unlocked with a set of claws, and made my way through them, letting the doors shut carefully behind me.

I made my way quietly down the empty hallway, my footsteps echoing as I wrapped my arms around me.

It was colder in here, with the tile floors and the metal lockers, than it was outside.

I tried following their scent but, as Derek had predicted, the smell of a thousand teenagers was overpoweringly pungent.

I glanced in every room, down every hall, finally finding a small closet looking space with a light on.

It was an office, probably the janitor's, very cramped and bleach-scented.

Derek sat in a dingy looking rolling chair, head resting in his hands.

Peter sat in a chair against a wall, reading through someone's discipline folder.

"Interesting," he mused.

"Arrest record?" I asked.

"No," Peter replied. "I was referring to you," he said, "and that boy."

I disregarded his comment, glancing around the small space.

"Speaking of boys" I said worriedly, "where's Isaac?"

Derek looked up then, his eyes bloodshot and wary.

He had only three words to say to me, "They got him."