This chapter was a tad longer/more action packed/awesome.
Therefore, I deserve some reviews.
Eventually, Bran changed back and Van began to breath again. Despite, Bran being human, he remained locked in the study, too upset to leave or too unwilling to do so. Van ignored the sounds of broken furniture and waited for his pack to arrive. T.J. had put out the word, they were all to be here before 10:00, when the call would come.
How the Reds got the Pack number, Van didn't care. He did, however, care to be ready by the time they called. He had already lost one Luna child, he wouldn't loose another. He would kill whomever hurt Piper. She's pack.
Van sat on a bench in the sitting room, greeting members as they arrived. Eventually, the room became filled. He glanced around at each of their faces, noting conflicting emotions. Various people lookes apprehensive and upset about Piper's kidnapping. Others, like the black wolf, Kale and the Asian wolf Seraph, looked outright outraged to even be here. Neither were a fan of Piper.
Thirty minutes to ten, the last of the Detroit pack arrived, crowding into the room. Everyone was stirring with anticipation. Van heard some of the younger members whisper about the Marrok being here, pointing to the study behind them.
Van also glanced toward the room. Sometime ago, the echoes of wood breaking had stopped. Waves of fury and dominance occasionally pulsed from the room. Those closest to it, didn't dare look away from the floor.
"They're all here," Van announced to the air. The study doors opened, revealing a freshly dressed, Bran. His hair was dripping wet, making him look altogether less unassuming. Chorded muscles on his forearms stood out, as he clenched his hands in fists on either side.
Bran made his way out of the study, ignoring the whispers, coming to stand next to Van. In front of them, was the pack phone. It stood there, unassuming and altogether unimportant, and yet, each member stared at it, willing it to produce answers.
Bran nodded to the group, "Thank you for coming," before turning all of his attention back toward the phone. The frown on his usually pleasant face looked alien.
Van turned toward his pack, reassuring them. "They're going to call at 10:00. From there, the Reds are going to give us a location to meet. I don't know how many will be there, so I want everyone to be ready to fight."
His attention turned toward Riley and Charlie, the two pups of the group, "only those of age are coming," he ignored their protests, turning toward some of the woman, "or those able," he said, pointing to one's pregnant belly. A few of them exchanged glances with their mates and Van swore he saw the men grow paler.
"If you are willing to fight, are able, and want to come, then you're welcome to. If not, I want you to stay here and protect eachother. It could be their plan to split us up and attack.
Some of the larger men nodded. Nancy, who was nervously glancing toward her nodding mate, spoke up. "This is an awfully big risk. Are you sure about this?"
Another man agreed, "This is alot for one girl,"
Amy, a girl who'd been close with Piper's brother, spoke to her defense, "Piper is Mac's sister. She's worth saving."
"She's nothing like Mac," David argued.
"Seriously," Paul, a younger man, toward the side of the room, murmured, "She's just some wolf-whore."
Before Van could stop him, the Marrok flew across the space. He had looked so calm a moment ago, the new scene was barley believable. With one hand, Bran held Paul up against the wall, by the throat. Paul choked, his legs leaving the floor. Bran's face was terrifying, absolutely calm and controlled.
"Call her that again, pup, and I'll rip your throat out."
The whole room had grown quiet, shocked by both the Marrok's violence and his possessive tone. Everyone knew she had gone to live in Aspen Creek, Van figured none had realized the effect she'd had on the town, on Bran.
Van was just about to calm Bran when the phone rang.
Everyone was so shocked by the sound, they all starred dumbly at the machine. It was only 9:40. Paul wheezed as Bran let go of him, walking toward the ringing.
He picked it up,. "Yes," he answered.
The room was absolute silence. Van regretted getting the customized phones which muffled the other line's words. He had once thought the invention as privacy-ensuring, something tailored to cancel out the infringement of werewolf ears. Now, he only saw it as unhelpful.
"Is she hurt?" Bran asked. The silence stretched on. When Bran spoke again, his words were clipped.
"What do you want?" More silence.
"Fine."
He hung up the phone, his body practically vibrating. Van recognized it as the need to change. Absently, he worried for the Old-man's sanity.
"Where is she?"
"At a bar, it's called the Rusty Boar, they said to be there within the hour or they'll kill her."
Van knew the place, he'd visited it once for a stag party. The rooms were dark and separated by metal bars, he had once smelled sewer within one room, close to the floor. "It's a trap, Bran."
"I know."
Van suspected it may come to this. It was a serious risk to walk into a trap set by the Redicious. The group may be mere men but they were fanatical to the point that they would gladly die for a cause. It was a risk to his pack. He glanced around at each of their faces. Elenor looked sad, Harvey looked ready to fight, Jared was angry, Susan was rubbing her stomach absently.
"I'm not asking this of you, lightly," he spoke to them. Van loved them all. He didn't want to loose them either. "If you want to come, then come. If not, you can still be helpful protecting the den. You decide." Van looked toward Bran, "Let's go."
Piper watched as the same young boy snuck into the room. For the last two days the kid had been her only source of comfort. His hair was the same sandy blonde as Bran's and he was just as quick to give a smile. Since she'd been captured, he'd been sneaking her water and food. Occaisionally, he would even sit with her and talk. He was still a Redicious, of course, with his gun pointed at her and occasionally citing bible verses, but his youth a scrappiness spoke out to Piper. He reminded her of herself. Everyone around referred to him as simply, The Kid. Piper had picked up bits and pieces of conversation, when she wasn't being beaten into unconsciousness, all about his past. Kid was an Orphan, someone they'd picked up off the streets, he was sixteen, and the child of a crack-addicted mother. The men also spoke that he may be "too soft" to be one of them. The thought alone made Piper think he may be salvageable.
Michael sauntered into the room, a smile contorting the scar above his lip. "You're beasts are on their way, love."
A vision of a broken-bloodied Van, flashed before her eyes. The image gave her the last strength she needed to sever the strand of rope. She tried not to show her excitement as it gave way.
Michael walked toward his table of pain, as she'd coined it last night. Among the instruments was one of her two guns, the other, she remembered had been on Jax's belt.
He picked up a large dagger, fingering the sharp tip. A drop of blood welled up at the spot, "Well, it's been fun, hasn't it?" he asked rhetorically, "But i guess all good things must end." Michael smiled, wrinkling his bulbous nose and showing off a gold cap on one tooth.
"So the Redicious are in the business of murdering innocents now, are they?"
He snorted, "you're not an innocent. You're one of them. The devil is in your blood."
Piper rolled her eyes, the idiot really should read his werewolf report. "That's not how it works," she spoke condescendingly, "Putting aside your illiteracy, the top geneticists all say it's not passed through DNA."
"Of course they do, the devil wouldn't want his beasts being found out, would he?"
"It's a virus, ugly. It has nothing to do with Satan."
He backhanded her hard, splitting her lip and filling her mouth with blood. It took all her will power, not to pull her hands from the rope and strangle the bastard where he stood.
"You're blood is a creation of the devil. Therefore, you don't belong to my god. My god wants you extinct," he smiled at her, raising his knife, "and i am merely a humble servant, giving him all he shall desire." Piper knew this was her only chance. Shaking away the ropes, she smiled toward him, "I don't need your god," she said, "I've got a gun."
She ripped her hands from behind her back, kicking him hard in the gut, then lunging toward the table. "Getbackhere!" She fingered her gun but before she could grab it he knocked into her from behind, sending the table sprawling over.
Piper spun, kicking out his knee, hard, "Bitch!" He crumbled, but refused to let her go, dragging her down with him. She landed hard on top of him. "ooughff!" Somehow, he had managed to reopen the cut on her brow, she absently wiped away the blood but it didn't help much, as both her wrists and lip was still bleeding.
She tried to push herself off him, and felt a stinging pain on her palm. Piper looked down, remembering the knife he'd held before. It was now speckled with her blood.
He made a move to grab her again, jostling the knife away. Piper punched him hard, causing his head to snap back. She heard it hit the tile floor, as she scrambled across the ground, searching for the metallic glint.
Her fingers wrapped around the blade just as he tugged back on one of her legs. "You devil bitch!" Piper cried out as he embedded a scalpel in her calf. Weapon in hand, she jacknifed around, bring the blade down in his left arm. This time, Michael cried out, clutching the limb close.
Piper moved closer to him, watching detachedly as she brought the blade down, sinking it into his flesh.
As the life left Michael's cruel eyes, she Whispered, "That was for my brother," he twitched and she sunk the blade in deeper, shredding what little of a heart he'd had. "his name was Mac, you sonofa bitch."
When he quieted, she sat back, shaking violently. It was over. The man she'd watched shoot Mac was dead. Some foreign weight lifted off her chest. Piper suddenly felt very tired. She wanted to sleep. And perhaps, if not for the footfalls coming from the next room, she may have. Climbing over his body, Piper found her gun and tucked the knife into her belt. Again, she wiped blindly at the blood, most likely only smearing it further.
She took a deep breath, raising her gun and walking into the next room. Piper moved silently, like she'd been taught to do in her combat training. Flashes of a fosterfather named Rick, who'd once been in the NAVY SEALS flashed before her eyes. She shook away the thoughts.
THe first room was empty, however the next was not. The man who'd watched Michael beat her, hid behind one of the many corners. When the wood beneath her feet creaked, he rushed her. Whether he was stupid and untrained or just figured her harmless, Piper never knew. With one clean shot, he was down.
Just as he fell, another body rushed her from behind. Their arm locked around her neck, hooking her backwards. The attack sent her gun skidding across the room.
Piper threw an elbow into the person behind her, loosening their slack. She turned, kicking their feet out from under them, slipping the knife from her belt and stabbing him once. Piper turned, picking up her gun.
A squeak from the floor beside her made her lift it sharply. Staring down the sight, she saw kid, young and afriad. She felt sick. He was shaking violently, loosely holding onto a shotgun.
Bile tasted in her throat, "Put it down, Kid." He glanced toward the bodies on the floor, unsure. Slowly, he nodded, setting it aside. Piper breathed again as the barrel touched the floor. She made no move to lower her weapon or move closer to him. Tears were streaming down his face. "Run," she instructed, "If you need a safe place, go to the Museum, I'll find you."
Something foreign filled his eyes, something she hadn't seen in a long, long time. He looked hopeful, "go!" she said again, watching as he ran.
A growl erupted from the room over and the single sound was the absolute best thing Piper had ever heard. Van was here. Van would take her home. She grew slightly woozy on her feet, but remained upright, still aiming her gun, as they pilled into the room.
When the first man wasn't Van, Piper's finger almost squeezed the trigger. However, the pale blue eyes staring back at her froze her completely. Dumbly, she asked, "What are you doing here?"
He looked smug or confused, Piper was too tired to tell. "Saving you," he glanced toward the bodies on the floor, "Which clearly, was unnecessary."
Before she could respond, Van ran up to her, engulfing her in a hug. Once in his arms, Piper let the blackness eat away at her vision and she fell.
I had more to this but I'm putting it in the next chapter. This one had a lot going on already.
Tell me what you think.