Werewolf Compilations

Chapter 122

I sit in the dirt, against a tree, the bark scratching my bare back, and I stay curled up. A thin fog gathers

around me, the air frigid. My fingers lose color and I feel as if these are the sensations of death.

Everything is cold, so painfully and relentlessly cold. The feeling in my toes fade and I contemplate

shifting again to stay alive. I can't be too far, I can't be off of pack land. I should go back but I'm scared

that his father will grab me again, that he'll choke me and cut me as he did his wife.

'You didn't finish the diary, did you?'

A harsh shiver overcomes me and I hold my bare body tighter, ready to shift even though my wolf is

exhausted. This is what I get for not letting her out enough, she grows weak.

I need to go back, I need to find James, he needs to know the truth about his—

I jolt forward, hearing a distant voice. Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

It comes again.

I attempt to stand up, my limbs frozen in place and sore. My fingers grip at the bark of the tree, prying

me from the ground, dirt getting under my nails. Then I feel him. His scent grows strong in the air.

"Rae!"

Relieved, I throw my head back. "James!" My voice is rough, hardly loud enough to sound like a yell.

"I'm here!"

I wobble in the direction of his voice, back from where I came. My ankles bend and my bare feet mold

over rocks and dead brush, and I use my hands to make myself decent, covering my body where

needed. The wind is sharp against me, like little needles. "James?" I call again.

He appears and hurries over to me, holding my robe. I knew he was the wolf who brought his father to

the ground, the one who... He must have seen me run off. James grabs my arm and holds me up,

keeping me stable as I wrap myself up. He catches a glimpse of the growing bruise on my hip and

gently brushes his hand over it before the soft fabric of the robe can cover it.

"H-He killed your mother," I mumble, telling him what he deserves to know. "He tried to kill me. He tried

to get me in the bathtub."

James pulls me in, his fingers seeping into my hair as he holds me close as if the sky were falling. "We

have to go back, Rae. You're freezing."

I tense. "Is he—"

"He's gone," James says simply. "Come on."

He holds most of my weight as I limp along until he decides to carry me the rest of the way. I bask in

his warmth, thawing my skin. His grip on me is tight, but I don't tell him to ease up, I let him have me.

"I'm okay," I say, needing him to process it.

"You're not. Your side is purple."

"I'll be okay."

He glances down at me, looking extremely frustrated and upset, but mostly angry. "He killed my

mother. And he almost took you too," he thinks over, letting out his jumbled thoughts into the open air.

"If I didn't get there..."

"Don't," I murmur against him, not wanting him to think about 'what if's.'

When we make it back to the house, my eyes trail to the ground, no longer seeing his father where he

laid before. I'm glad. I don't want to see his dead body, I don't want to see what James has done. The

fact is inevitable, he killed his father to protect me. He saw the look on my face as I ran out of the

house, he saw him chasing me. He heard the screams.

He didn't even need to think over the possibilities. All he needed to see was my fear. I wrap my arms

around him now before he puts me down at the door. Tears well in my eyes but I make sure they don't

fall. "Tell me what happened," he says, easing me inside.

I sit down in the living room, James standing before me. "I was sleeping and heard the bedroom door

open. He just grabbed me and pulled me into the bathroom," recalling it makes the anxious feelings

return, "he pushed me to the ground. I saw he had a knife or blade or something before he pulled me

into the bathtub."

James seems uncomfortable and stiff, but I continue, "He tried to cut me but I wouldn't let him so he

choked me," my voice becomes shaky. "I thought I was going to die, but I-I got out and that's when I

bruised my hip. I fell out of the tub and landed on it. I don't know, he was grabbing me feet s-so I kicked

him. I ran downstairs and out the door while he followed me and grabbed my hair and... Then I ran out

of the house and you were the last thing I saw." The tears fall now, and I let them. "H-He was going to

make you think I'd done it myself, just like your mother. He was going to kill me too, he was going to

make you find me like that."

"It's over now. He's dead."

"I know that, but you—"

James grows impatient. "He's dead, Rae."

"I know, but—"

"I killed him, Rae," he nearly shouts at me. "Stop worrying about it!"

I move back. "James," my voice is slow and careful.