Here is a new chapter for all of you. I hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 39

"Melanie."

Scott's voice was faint and echoed. Melanie stirred, cringing from the sharp pain in her neck that shot down her spine. It was dark and hazy when she opened her eyes. Something was there in the dark, moving around. The scuffing sounds of footsteps made her head shoot around, alert and shaking. Her hair hung in her face.

"Scott?" she mumbled as her head quit spinning.

"Thank god you're awake." He breathed a sigh of relief.

The ground was hard and cold underneath me. Scott grabbed her by the arm gently, helping her sit up. Somebody stood across from her. She couldn't tell who though. The person was blurry. She felt her face, poking herself in the eye. Her glasses were gone.

"Where are we?"

"I don't know. I had dropped Allison off at Lydia's and was going to pick up my mom. I was kidnapped in the hospital parking lot.

"How? How do you kidnap a werewolf?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I was hit with some sort of tranquilizer, I think."

"Scott?"

Both teenagers turned. From the shadow came the thud of boots. Chris stopped in front of them. His once white shirt was torn in some places and smothered in dry blood. His forehead was bruised in the corner and crusty with blood. It was as if he'd been hit with a blunt object. He stared at them with sunken eyes, sorrow filled.

"You shouldn't be here," he said barely above a whisper and hopeless. His dirty hands hung limply at his side.

Using the hair-tie on her wrist, she put her hair up into a ponytail and stood.

"You're awake," came a curiously, delighted voice. It was male and he sounded like he hadn't hit puberty yet.

Past the bars keeping them caged in stood a figure. He was bald and held his hands behind his back, standing like a string was coming from the top of his head, pulling him straight up.

"Let us out of here!" Scott yelled.

"But of course," the man replied. his face was covered by a shadow. The metal lamp hanging from the ceiling outside the cell didn't light up any of his features. "You can go first. I like to save the most interesting for last anyway."

The mad stepped to the side and the cell door slid open. Melanie looked over at Scott, her eyes wide. They backed away from the door. There was a faint roaring down the hallway to them. A crowd of some sort that sounded similar to that of a football stadium.

"Grab him," the man said.

Two large men with veins bulging from their biceps and eyes glowing a distinct blue walked in. Their black shirts looked painted on. Melanie tensed. This wasn't going to end well, but neither of them were about to go out without a fight.

The men went after Scott. He growled and tried to throw them off. Melanie leapt at the one closest to her, but he flung her backwards. She slid a distance on the ground. The bald man looked down at her.

"Don't waste your energy. You're going to need it later," he said calmly.

Scott was dragged out of the room, kicking and yelling. Melanie ran at the closing, barred door and hit her hands off of it.

"Scott!" she yelled.

Melnaie paced back and forth, ignoring the multiple presences in the cell with her. Nobody came near here. There were a few low growls. A few sets of eyes glowed. One pair blue, another orange, and two others that glowed a creepy yellow, like snake eyes.

When Scott returned, the men were dragging him.

"You're lucky, kid," one of the guards grumbled as they dropped him on the ground.

Scott coughed. Blood came up, splatting against the concrete. His arm looked mangled with large lacerations and bent in places that an arm shouldn't be. It was broken. Melanie ran to his side, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"God, what happened?" she gasped.

The large men came toward Melanie and grabbed her by the arms. She tried to wrench free. Their grip only tightened, making them go numb like the instrument for measuring blood pressure does. She press her feet into the ground but it did no good.

"No!" Scott bellowed. The man on my left kicked Scott in the face. He flew back, and rolled back onto his stomach.

"Stay down mutt."

"Let me go!"

The man on my right scoffed. They pulled her out of the cell and down the hall toward the loud roaring of a crowd. There was a light at the end of the hall. Melanie gulped. The panic in her chest sped her heart up.

She was thrust out into a large room where there was a chain link cage with a fighting ring. A loud crowd encircled it yelling and making bets. Melanie stared around wide-eyed. In the cage, a man the size of both guards holding stood in the center. His forehead bled. He grinned as she was shoved into the cage. She fell to her knees, tendrils of her bangs falling past her cheeks. His teeth were razor sharp. On top of his head there was a tattoo in black ink, the hood of a cobra in a tribal design. The design travelled down his back with demonic wings over his shoulders.

"Careful not to look in his eyes, girl. He'll stone you," one of the guards called.

A gorgon, she thought. She'd given up thinking that myths and legends were just those when she'd found out about Isaac or more specifically, when she'd found out about werewolves.

Melanie stared at the rink floor. Dried up blood spotted it in places. This was a fight. People came to see supernaturals kill each other. Only problem was, she wasn't a supernatural.

A bell dinged. Melanie looked around at the crowd, standing up. The hollering and whooping was deafening. She kept her eyes to the floor for a second then closed her eyes and raised her head. A low chuckle came from beside her. She swung and nearly fell. If the crowd wasn't so loud, she could use her hearing to her advantage. She swung again and only swung at air.

He grabbed her by her ponytail from behind and flung her to the ground. She let out a whimper, but kept her eyes closed. It was difficult. In the back of her mind, she could hear Derek,

You don't need to see your opponent to take them down. You just need to know their vulnerabilities. Use your four other senses you have to take them down. Be intelligent. If anything, complete darkness should be an advantage with your stealthy steps.

She wasn't in the dark though; none of the people in the room were. She stood again and clenched her fists, tilting her head down and ears up. Her opponent's footsteps were heavy and he was cocky. The only way she was going to take him down was by severing his spinal cord.

There was a clinking nearby and louder roars and cheers ensued. She knelt down and peeked her eyes open, keeping them directed at the ground. Black boots were off to the far right and a rusty blade sat two feet away. She snatched it and stood, closing her eyes again. She crouched and stepped to the left carefully, staying on the pads of her feet.

Feeling his heavy steps shake the ring, she side stepped to the left again and heard the gorgon run into the fence clumsily. She swung her leg up and kicked blindly, landing the blow to his side then swung the knife and lodged it in his side. The blade sunk with difficulty, stopping halfway and ripping his flesh. He roared and she felt a sudden blow across the face that sent her flying backward. She kept her fingers tightly wound around the hilt of the knife and it ripped from the beast. The gorgon howled in agony.

"Let me out of here!" she screamed. Blood dripped from her mouth. The bitter, coppery taste swelled from her cheek. Her hair tickled her neck.

She grunted at being yanked backwards onto the mat. She clenched her eyes shut to the point of seeing white.

"I'm going pull your spine out, but only after I've had my fun." The low, gravelly voice sent chills over her skin.

"You can try," she grunted. She swung the knife again. He grabbed her wrist and twisted. Melanie cried out and dropped it.

He tossed her aside. Her chest heaved in and out heavily. The crowd started chanting, matching the rhythmic stomping of their feet on the metal bleachers. She could feel it in her gut. This fight was nearing its end. She scrambled across the mat, opening her eyes long enough to find the weapon. The hilt was cracked in her hand and pinched her palm. She wasn't making it out of here alive if he killed her.

The crowd sounded like they were chanting something specific. Wolves… over and over again they chanted it.

Why were they chanting that?

"They're calling you, girl," the gorgon hissed. "They're calling your name."

"That's not my name!" Melanie screamed. Her ribs throbbed and so did her hip. She could feel blood dripping down her chin.

"They're calling you, girl," he said again. He was closer. "Calling your death."

There was a high pitched scream. The crowd went dead at the ear splitting sound. Melanie's breath hitched. A banshee.

Melanie felt something, a shift in the air-the gorgon's breath. She swung the knife up and to the side. Blood gushed over her hand and she yanked the blade to the right. The blade came free from its hilt. She opened her eyes slowly, dropping the piece.

The gorgon had fallen to her feet. His attempt to scare her into submission only drove her into survival mode. The thought of that hideous thing raking his nasty claws over her was disgusting. Some inner voice snapped at her, telling her that she wasn't allowed to die. The idea of it made her panic. Her heart pounded in sync to the stomping.

The crowd shouted in a mixture of excitement and disappointment. The blood covered most of her arm. It was darker almost purple and sticky. The gorgon laid at her feet, choking on his last few breaths.

"I'm sorry," Melanie hiccupped, stretching out her trembling hands unsure if she was trying to help him or keep him at arm's length.

His face turned away from her. His muscular form stopped twitching after a few more minutes. The surrounding crowd started chanting again.

Wolves…

She slowly spun to look at all of them, a horrified look on her face with tears welling up.