The Wolf Inside
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Michelle Torlot
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1.1M
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31
Chapter 1
Erin Blackthorne
I stood on the old fort’s battlements, my gaze sweeping over the forest. The fort was partly in ruins, but it was still livable. Its location, smack in the middle of the woods, made it an ideal camp. At least for now.
I ran my fingers through my black hair, which was growing long again. I should have cut it before today, but it was too late now.
I didn’t really care.
My appearance wasn’t what mattered.
Who I was, that was what mattered.
I sensed movement behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“Are you nervous?” he asked, his voice devoid of worry.
“No, Father,” I answered, my heart pounding against my ribs betraying my lie.
My father’s hand rested gently on my shoulder, brushing my hair aside.
“Don’t lie, Erin!” he chided.
I turned to face him, a faint smile playing on my lips.
I looked up at the man standing behind me.
His face was weathered, a few battle scars hidden by his black beard, now speckled with grey.
His hair was the same, pulled back from his face in a ponytail.
“Maybe a little,” I confessed.
He smiled. “It’s good to be a little scared; it gets the adrenaline pumping, gives you the edge.”
My smile faded. “They can smell it, though, can’t they? Fear?”
He nodded. “But everyone is slightly afraid of them,” he paused, “the only difference is, we’re not afraid to fight back!”
I clenched my fists, resolute in my determination.
“I just want to make you proud, Father.”
He smiled at me and placed his large hands on my shoulders. He stared into my blue eyes; the color mirrored his own.
“You make me proud every day, Erin Blackthorne.”
He kissed me gently on the forehead, then walked back towards the center of camp, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I turned back to the forest, a small smile on my lips.
I was proud to be Simon Blackthorne’s daughter.
Not that I was his only child.
He took an interest in all his children, of which there were many.
Some said I was his favorite; I didn’t believe that though.
It was the way things worked out here on the fringe.
A thriving community of free people.
Sacrifices had to be made, of course, but everyone was prepared to do that.
So that they could be free from the werewolves.
They had lived among us for so long now. They had integrated into society. Humans and werewolves were equal—that’s what they tried to brainwash everyone into believing.
I knew better.
My father had taught me that.
He was one of the original freemen.
Now we were hunted.
Called guerrillas and terrorists just because we didn’t want to live under the rule of the werewolves.
My father, along with three other men, founded the free people.
All the children came from the four founders.
Not all by the same mother, but that was the sacrifice.
Eventually, the founders would hand down that responsibility to their sons.
The community would continue.
I would not be mated with any of my brothers, though.
I would mate with one of the sons of the other three founders.
The community would continue and grow.
I was already the second generation.
Today wasn’t that day, though. Today was the day I would do my first solo mission.
I would go into enemy territory.
It was just a supply run, but it was still risky.
Avoiding the security patrols—human and werewolf.
I had fake ID, but didn’t want to use it unless I needed to.
If the worst happened, I would quite happily kill.
If I was captured, I knew it would mean death.
Slow and painful while they tried to force me to tell them the location of the community, our strengths, and weaknesses.
To be safe, if I didn’t return at the allotted time, they would move and find a new camp.
The elders were fully aware that some wouldn’t be able to withstand the pain inflicted by the werewolf masters.
First priority was to keep the community safe.
We were all aware that if you didn’t return, you were either dead or captured, which ultimately meant you would be killed.
I remembered my first werewolf kill.
My father had been proud of me that day too.
We’d laid an ambush.
Why werewolves drove cars rather than ran, I could never understand.
Probably to try and fit in.
That’s not to say they didn’t run in wolf form sometimes.
Mostly though when traveling from city to city they drove.
By the time he saw the stinger, it was too late.
Tires ripped to shreds and his car not going anywhere.
When he emerged from the car, he realized it was an ambush.
He’d shifted there and then, into a big black wolf, twice the size of a normal one.
Father had given me a crossbow for my sixteenth birthday.
I had coated the bolt tips in Wolfsbane.
It was illegal to grow or possess the plant, the penalty for that was death.
Unless you lived on the fringe, then it was a must-have.
Silver was scarce.
Silver and Wolfsbane, the only two things that could take a werewolf down.
I had fired my crossbow, the bolt had hit the wolf in the shoulder. My father was so proud of me at that moment. He hugged me, and my brothers stood there, patting me on the back.
We’d walked over to where the wolf was lying on the ground, he was groaning, hurt.
I didn’t feel sorry for him, he was the enemy.
They never took prisoners, why should we?
When my father handed me the axe, I swung it hard, slicing through the beast’s neck without hesitation.
It took two attempts, and it was dead.
My face was spattered in the beast’s blood.
First blood, my father had called it.
He had stood behind me, gripping my shoulders, as the wolf shifted back into a man.
His head separated from his body.
“Look at him, Erin. Always remember, they may look like us, but they’re monsters!”
I walked down the stone steps which led from the battlements, and headed towards the main compound.
My father stood next to an old jeep and my brother, Devon, was standing next to him. I smiled at them both. They looked so alike. It was a Blackthorne trait, dark hair and blue eyes.
My dad gave me a warm smile. “Got your knife?”
I returned his smile, pulling out the silver-bladed knife tucked away in my boot.
“Good. Only use it if you have to, don’t take unnecessary risks,” he advised.
“Understood, Dad,” I murmured.
His smile was reassuring. I glanced at Devon; he wasn’t sharing in our smiles, instead, he wore a frown.
He handed me an ID card and a map.
“Don’t worry, Devon, I’ll be okay,” I assured him, trying to lighten his mood.
He gently touched my face. “Just make sure you come back safe, little sis.”
I nodded, gave him a smile, and hopped into the jeep.
“Jack will drop you at the rendezvous point and come back in twenty-four hours,” Devon instructed, his frown deepening. “Don’t be late, Erin, you know the consequences if you don’t return!”
I nodded again. “Don’t worry, Devon, I’ll be there.”
As the jeep pulled away, I looked back at my father and brother.
I had no idea that this would be the last time I would see them.
Jack grinned as he sped away from the camp.
“This is a rite of passage for you. Who would have thought, little Erin all grown up! You know what comes next, don’t you!”
His hand landed on my thigh, but I quickly brushed it off.
Jack was a Rougemont.
A potential mate for me.
All females were expected to bear at least one child.
Jack, with his fiery red hair and green eyes, was the eldest son of one of the other founders.
He was arrogant and full of himself.
Not surprising, considering he was Oscar Rougemont’s son.
He was significantly older than me, but he’d been eyeing me since my first blood ceremony.
“Let’s focus on the task at hand, shall we!” I snapped.
He smirked at me. Of all the people in the world I might have to sleep with, he was at the bottom of my list.
Devon wasn’t fond of him either, and I trusted my older brother’s judgment. When the time came, I wouldn’t have much of a choice. It would either be him, Mason Oakwood, or Ethan Sanderson.
The task at hand was to bring back as many supplies as I could, mostly food and medical supplies. If I found any ammo that was easy to carry, then I would bring that back as well.
It was more of a test than anything, but failure wasn’t an option. Only the strong could survive on the fringe.
The rendezvous was about a mile outside of Harper Falls.
Harper Falls was also where I was going to get the supplies from.
It was a pretty rural place, a small town surrounded by farms and, of course, the forest.
How I did it was up to me.
Steal some credits and buy it.
Shoplift, or break in and steal them after hours.
Jack had been right about one thing—it was a rite of passage. Everyone had to prove themselves, unless they wanted to be a glorified servant, cooking and cleaning.
That wasn’t for me, so at sixteen I made my first kill. At eighteen, you had to do your first solo run. Which is exactly what I was doing.
Of course not everyone is cut out for that sort of life, being a foot soldier.
But we’re all taught from a very early age that the shifters are the enemy, and freedom is the priority.
The establishment is based on a lie.
The lie being that humans and werewolves are equal.
This isn’t true—the wolves run everything, choose what freedoms the humans have.
What jobs they can do.
By the time most of us reach the age of sixteen we want to kill our first werewolf!
I know I did.
I had my own reasons.
As I climbed out of the jeep, Jack tapped his watch.
“Twenty-four hours! Don’t be late,” he warned.
I waved my hand and watched him drive away.
I took a deep breath, already feeling the nerves. I ran my fingers through my hair, checked the map, and headed North. Staying close to the woods, and off the main road, I could avoid patrols.
Even though the town was small, I knew there would be patrols on the lookout for possible rebels.
That was what we were.
There were several rebel camps.
My father’s was the main one in this area.
Lately, we had taken down several patrols, a mix of werewolf and human.
Patrols had been increased.
Any chance for the establishment to take us down, they would.
I personally hated the idea of killing any humans though.
It was the werewolves who were the real enemy.
The people in the established settlements were just misguided and lied to.
The guards in the patrols however, were fair game.
Working hand in hand with the enemy.
How could they be so blind, so naive.
I emerged from the forest, the town lay to the east.
On the outskirts were farms.
I had to head into the town to get the medical supplies, but I thought perhaps I might be able to pick up food and maybe even some money from the farm.
I pulled out a small pair of binoculars from inside my coat and scanned the farm ahead.
It was mostly crops, rather than livestock.
There was a big farmhouse.
If everyone was out tending the fields, then the house might be empty.
It was definitely worth a shot.
As I scanned the fields, I frowned.
Werewolves.
I was slightly surprised to find werewolves working on a farm.
I’d always imagined and been told that sort of manual work, they would make the humans do.
I shrugged—it was intel to pass back to my father.
I could take whatever supplies I could from the house. If I got the opportunity to take any werewolves out, I would.
Creeping up to the farmhouse, I peered in the window.
It didn’t look like anyone was inside, and they had foolishly left one of the back windows open.
I slid the sash up and climbed in.
Quietly, I dropped to the floor.
I found my way to the kitchen while rifling through the cupboards, I found lots of food.
Tinned items mainly.
Perfect.
They were the best.
They would keep for longer.
I quickly stuffed them in my rucksack.
After getting everything I wanted from the kitchen, I crouched down and looked through one of the windows.
There was no sign of anyone coming back to the house, so I headed upstairs, being careful not to make too much noise in case anyone was sleeping.
I peered in the rooms—all of them were empty—so I headed to the bathroom and checked the medicine cabinet.
The pickings were slim—just a handful of painkillers and some bandages.
Not exactly a surprise.
From my lessons, I knew werewolves healed quickly.
I grabbed what I could, then moved on to the bedrooms.
In the largest room, I found some cash and a wallet.
I pocketed it all.
If I was quick, I could use the credit card to buy medical supplies before anyone noticed it was gone.
That way, I wouldn’t have to break into anywhere else, and my job would be done.
My luck took a turn as I tiptoed back down the stairs.
Voices echoed, likely the werewolves working on the farm.
I couldn’t tell if they were inside or outside.
I decided to make a break for the window and escape.
I could hide in the house until they left, but the moment they stepped into the kitchen, they’d know they’d been robbed. I wasn’t about to stick around for a patrol to be called. I chose to risk it and bolt for the window. I almost made it, too. As I was climbing through the window, a voice shouted, “Hey! What the hell!”
I turned to see a werewolf glaring at me.
He was in human form, but it was clear what he was.
His towering height and muscular build were dead giveaways.
And the way his eyes flashed black for a split second.
I didn’t stick around. I jumped out the window. So much for using the credit card. My first priority now was to get out of there.
I made a beeline for the forest. I still had time. I just needed to lay low for a while, probably until nightfall. I had to hope he wouldn’t shift and chase after me.
He didn’t shift.
He didn’t need to.
As I sprinted away from the house, I heard a sound like a pop.
A scream tore from my throat as I collapsed to the ground.
The pain was unbearable.
Whatever he had done, I was left writhing on the ground, completely incapacitated.
I felt my rucksack being yanked off my back. Then I heard him growl before he finally spoke.
“Move an inch, and I’ll break your neck,” he hissed.
I couldn’t move at the moment, but the second I could, I would. If I couldn’t get back to the rendezvous point, I might as well be dead. I wasn’t about to let some fucking werewolf rule over me.
