A/N: Hey guys long time no see! To the 118 faves, 182 follows and 68 reviewers I want to thank y'all for your tireless support and patience. For those of you who've been telling me to 'please update' in the comments allow me to explain the reason behind the lack of updates.
Here's what happened: my laptop died the last week of Oct, so I had to wait for Black Friday to get a new one, only to find it had lag issues. So I went and bought another PC that has a much larger memory and hard drive, and I just got it up and running two nights ago. So now everything's working just as it should be.
Sorry for the delay, but life happens and my old PC decided to nope out at the worst possible time.
Enjoy and don't forget to review! Here's to ringing in 2017!
WARNING: blood and implied rape of minors. If this is a trigger, read with caution.
Underground District – Year 840
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Sierra ran, eyes blurry and sweat soaking her skin. Desperate to keep her feet as she used a piece of her dirty shirt as a rag pressed to the side of her bleeding throat. Trying to find a place to hide until she felt she'd given her assaulter the slip. Then she'd take a chance and make a mad dash for the brothel.
She didn't know what went wrong back at the mercantile when she was haggling with a merchant for fabrics, but she wasn't going to stick around to find out. New clothing materials could wait. She could go back another time. But not now. Not after barely escaping getting her throat cut by one of the wickedest men she'd ever had the misfortune to run into in her short life.
It started like any normal day at the Siren's Song brothel. Well almost normal. Madam Lorelei Axelle, commonly referred to as 'The Ax' had summoned Sierra to her private, lavishly furnished office on the fourth floor.
"Wolf, I've noticed the girls' dresses are gettin' shabby. Run to the mercantile and find out the best prices then report back."
She peered at the tall woman who was heavily done up in cosmetics to hide her wrinkles. Secretly eager to get out of the oppressive atmosphere and into the city where at least she'd get to breathe a little easier.
"Sure Ax. I'll be back soon."
The older woman pursed her lips at the girl's boldness.
"You've got serious lady balls, calling me that to my face, child."
Said 'child' shrugged deceptively toned shoulders.
"Whatever. Can I go now?"
"Yes. You may. But be prompt. It will not go well for you if you're late coming back."
Sierra flicked a lazy two finger salute and left the office.
Upon arriving at the black market she quickly skimmed through the stalls searching for the least shady looking dealer. Fabrics were hard to come by. She needed to make sure the Ax got nothing but the best deal. Otherwise her runner privileges would be revoked and she'd be placed back working the rooms. Something Cherise agreed with when she told the lifer the madam's trial role for her.
She'd just found a thin man with a sharp face that was peddling the wares the Ax wanted. So after a few seconds exchanging rote pleasantries, Sierra began the fine art of haggling.
Just then a shadow loomed over her right shoulder. Then she felt the presence of a large man invade her space as the vendor shrunk back in terror.
"Oh ho! What the hell's a pretty lil thing like you doing out here alone?"
She turned to face the newcomer. He was very tall and dressed like a businessman, except the bowler hat shadowing grey eyes were ice cold and he wore a harness strapped over his clothes under a long black trench coat. He gave her the creeps, like he killed many people and didn't care if you were a man, woman or child.
"Trying to buy stuff pops."
Thick brows raised at her cool tone.
"Are ya now? Ain't ya a bit...young for that sweetheart?"
Sierra bristled at his patronizing tone, glaring frozen daggers at the tall man.
'Who the hell does this bastard think he is?'
That was a mistake.
Suddenly she found herself pressed hard against his heavily toned chest with a knife to her throat.
"That's NOT how you talk to me bitch."
She fought the urge to struggle and risk tightening his grip. Apparently that seemed to please him because the pressure on her neck subsided just a bit.
But the girl knew that wouldn't last.
She had to get away from this killer NOW.
"I'm gonna ask you again real nice ya little tramp. And this time I'd better get a clear answ-AH!"
Rage flooded his veins as he doubled over in pain from a hefty kick to the balls. Then he snarled as she pinched his wrist, clamping down on a major nerve.
His first instinct was to cut.
She stumbled away, clutching her neck as he bellowed for reinforcements.
"I'M GONNA KILL YOU YA STUPID BITCH!"
Behind the fleeing 11 year old, a massive commotion raged. Shouts of the Central Military Police mixed with desperate screams of the poor souls unfortunate enough to get in the men's way. Guns fired. Bodies toppled. Men shouted and threatened ragged beggars who had no idea why the King's attack dogs were doing this far from the sanitized, opulent surface.
"FIND THAT LITTLE BITCH! I WANT HER SKANK ASS DEAD! NO ONE MAKES A FOOL OUT OF KENNY ACKERMAN AND LIVES!" She winced at the dark bellow of the man who'd issued the cruel command slash through the smog of the slum and forced her tired feet to move faster. If she didn't find cover-and medical attention-soon, she'd bleed out.
'I refuse to die like this!' She thought as she cast about for a hiding place. The cold grey eyes of that tall man flashed through her mind. 'Son of a bitch, I hope he dies a painful death!' She couldn't get caught. Death awaited if that happened.
Finally, she spotted a stone ledge nestled between two houses in an alley. It was high enough that would prevent anyone grabbing her from the ground and boasted enough cover that no one could reach from the sides and yank her over the lip of the roofs that adjoined the ledge.
There was only one problem: aside from a large crate perched at a lop-sided angle that'd been looted there was no other means of cover. So she'd have to stay absolutely still to prevent being seen from the road.
There was no more time to delay. Already she heard the hubbub in town quieting as the Police made their rounds. Sierra darted into the alley and paused to rip a larger piece of her shirt off to tie around her neck. Hastily wiping her bloody palms on her pants, she jumped up. Lucky for her, the house had protruding bricks that acted as handholds as she climbed as quickly as she could to the ledge nearly twenty feet off the dirty ground.
'Faster. Move faster!' Was her only thought, heart pumping at a frenetic pace, feeling warm blood soak through the ersatz tourniquet. When she thought she couldn't summon another ounce of energy, she pictured the evil face of the tall man called Kenny and the wicked edge of his knife biting into her flesh and jumped, barely landing on the ledge.
She scrambled behind the empty wooden crate pressing a trembling hand to reapply pressure to her neck. Just in the nick of time. Two Central Policemen entered the alley she was hiding in, and stopped not ten feet from her position.
"Where'd that little skag get off too? Shouldn't have gone far, the boss cut her real good."
"Yeah, but that damn brat managed to get in a cheap shot. Two of them, can you believe that? Threw off his aim. Only got the base instead of across the sweet spot."
The first one who'd spoken had a buzz cut and broad shoulders with a cold, raspy voice and emotionless face. From her perch, Sierra willed her body to remain still and not shake. His partner, a short stocky man with long hair pulled into a ponytail, dark eyes and a scar over his left eye from picking fights in his cadet days snorted.
"Yup and the Captain's gonna have someone's head if we don't find her."
Stone Face rolled the kinks out of his powerful shoulders. "And I can guaran-damn-tee ya it ain't gonna be me, man. Still can't believe she kicked him in the balls AND pinched a nerve in his wrist. Like what the hell? That's some serious self-defense skills. I mean, you think she knows the fighting arts? Cause no one should know how to do that unless you're trained-"
The shorter man cut his partner off with a flick of his wrist and scoffed.
"Maybe, but who cares about that? All I know is she's not here, could a bled out for all we know."
"You know full damn well the boss won't accept any excuses if we lose her in this maze."
"Yeah but what's he gonna do? Scour the ENTIRE Underground just cause some little she-cat kicked his dick in public? C'mon man. Use your head. He's taken worse than that and survived. If anything, his ego took a major hit. He'll be fine. Let's check out the next couple of blocks. If there's nothing, we'll pack it in and move on to the next quadrant yada, yada, yada…"
Sierra waited until the men's footsteps faded back into the quiet hum of the main thoroughfare. Somewhere deeper in the slum someone began whistling a haunting tune, the minor notes floating to join the endless smog and dirt-filled air of the ghetto.
Her movements were growing sluggish thanks to the blood loss. At this rate, she'd never make it back from the errand the madam had graciously sent her on. The brothel was five blocks from where she huddled but the ground seemed very far away and Sierra didn't think she'd make it that far.
The flapping of laundry above her head startled the girl out of her semi-dazed state. Then a middle-aged woman's face popped out over the lip of the right-hand house. Wide almond eyes took in her frightful state and Sierra managed to croak out "Help me," before collapsing on the cracked concrete.
She awoke thirty hours later in the woman's spare bedroom with her neck stitched and bandaged. To her surprise, there were clean clothes laid out on the chair next to the small bed she was laying in.
When she attempted to leave the woman-who'd just returned from buying food for dinner-intercepted her on the stairs.
"You're staying with me until that wound heals child. And you're not going back out on the streets."
She was met with a humorless chuckle for her efforts.
"Lady, I've got a job to get back to. I'm gonna get it if I'm not back within a reasonable time."
The brown-eyed widow raised her brows at Sierra's nonchalant tone.
"You're not…by any chance…one of Lorelei Axelle's girls are you?"
Sierra shuttered her silver eyes at the woman's probing question.
"What does that matter? I don't trust you."
The woman's eyes turned compassionate and she held out her work-worn hands.
"Please don't go back there sweetheart. I know that place. My sister worked the rooms for the Ax till one of her johns cut her throat. I heard she killed the man after she found out, but it was too late for my poor sister. Besides, your clothes and the proximity to the brothel kind of gave you away."
"It's a job lady."
"It's going to kill you."
"That's not your problem."
"It is when children are involved!"
Tired of the woman's self-righteous speech, Sierra pinned her with a withering glare.
"I haven't been a child for a long time. So save it."
That was her first wake up call.
The woman-whose name she later learned over dinner was Annabelle-seemed to have a calling in saving youngsters from a life of crime or prostitution. And from the stories she told the young wolfling in her charge, she was fairly good at it.
But not all the kids she took into her care heeded her advice or maternal touch.
Sierra was one of those few. Working for the madam the locals named 'The Ax' had squeezed all the empathy out of her girls. Her prostitutes weren't permitted to get emotionally attached to the clients. Love had no place in a house of ill repute. If a girl got pregnant she had two choices-give it up for adoption or abort it. In the squalor and utter destitution that was the Underground, most chose the latter option because nine times out of ten, the father wanted nothing to do with raising a bastard.
It was a liability that brought nothing but trouble and the Ax wanted no brats-hers or anyone else's-running around underfoot in the building. The only saving grace was the woman's strict no-rape policy. If one of the girls said a john raped her, he was personally castrated by the madam herself, then banned from the establishment regardless if he was a regular or the occasional pop-in.
Lorelei Axelle was a no-nonsense, buxom woman, who stood an imposing six-feet-two inches and all heavily toned muscle underneath her silk petticoats and expensive off the shoulder Capitol dresses imported from the surface.
And it was in her brothel, the Siren's Song that girls-some as young as 9-lived and worked till they died.
Of course, not all the girls were treated like dirt. Madam Axelle hadn't been in business for thirty-five years because she let excessive violence flourish. Normally, if a worker was killed by a paying john-he would recompense with his own life. She couldn't afford to look weak. Not in the underground. Hence why the locals and even some of the brothel regulars took to calling the blonde-haired blue eyed madam 'The Ax'.
Sierra Wolf was one of her highest paying acquisitions to date. And the young girl's fighting spirit was amusing for the older woman to watch. After all, those who struggled the hardest were the most satisfying to break once they realized there was no way out of the vicious circle of violence and depravity.
'She is young,' Axelle thought. 'The fire in her is fresh, but it'll soon wither away. I've seen it all happen before. No exceptions.'
But in the end, the madam made the same mistake Captain Kenny Ackerman did.
They underestimated Sierra's bulldog tenacity and her will to live.
She was a Wolf.
And a wild animal is much more dangerous when backed into a corner.
TBC…
