I know, I know. I probably should have had some big, all out, smack down. Right? Well, not when you are sixteen and pretty much homeless, and there are two-very large- werewolves that want a piece of you. Ten minutes before? I would have fought. I would have died, but I would have fought. Now? Well, lets just say that I was relying on a softer show of force.

"Come here often?" I quipped, as the first man leaned against the wall, and the second, newer, male advanced on the alley. The newer male was dressed in an, expensive, dress shirt with black dress pants. A little formal for a club, but hey, not like I had any experience in that arena. All that nice clothing was fitted very well on his six-foot frame, with his dark hair cut business short. If I didn't know better, I would have guessed he was just a Wall Street yuppie. But, I knew better.

"I would, if I knew there were pretty little things like you." He answered, in a thick accent. Russian? He sounded like the villains in 'James Bond' movies. He walked closer, but stopped a foot or two in front of the stocky man. Instead of advancing on the girl, our villain turned his head in a look of disgust. No, not on me. On the man beside him, and the blood on his lips.

The first man spoke rapidly in, what must be Russian, to the newer one. Obviously, they may not be friends but they were together. No, not together, together. Well, not unless it was like a sadistic relationship. Cause they were going at it, verbally at least. Fuck. Now was my chance; my chance to just slowly… back…away.

"Hey!" The man from the club shouted, as I backed away. I drew his attention from the bloody one, but it didn't seem as if he wanted to hurt me.

It never did.

"You don't want to do that." He smiled at me. When I didn't smile back, or even speak, his grin faltered a bit. Then he looked me over, the state of my clothes, and his grin lit up again. "You want to change clothes, yes? Change in city, no clothes around? Yes?" I guess it was a logical leap. Still…

"You following me?" It came out about as hostile as I thought it would. Good.

"No," he smoothed his hair back, a nervous gesture. Why was he nervous? "I am surprised. I had heard there was a female in America, but I never expected you to be so…" I raised my eyebrows, an obvious 'I'm waiting.' "Young."

"Yeah, well. I never expected to find to assholes chowing down in an alley but, hey, them's the breaks."

"No." the word had heat to it. "Just him. I was inside, enjoying American hospitality."

"Right. Well, I'm going to go and enjoy an American shower. You better be gone by the time I get back.

"Should I?" Was he amused?

"Damn straight." He laughed. Yeah, definitely amused.

"Before you go." I took a business card out of his pants pocket, throwing it to me. Cards don't really throw well, but I reached out in time. The card read simply:

Nikolas

41145-413-8731

"We aren't monsters. And we aren't afraid of you, you and your American pack. If you want a stronger family to tie yourself to, some of us are in town for a few days. We will stay out of trouble, I promise you." Somehow I believed him. But I don't trust anyone.

"Who are you?" I called, as the two men walked in the opposite direction, and opened the door to the club.

"Russian Pack." 'Nikolas' called back, without looking behind him.

Card in hand; I stepped over the long-forgotten body, and through the alley. Heading to Uncle Nick's and finally, Logan.