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Aunt Juliet’s eyes widen. “Why was she in the forest?!”
There’s a curfew for a reason- so things likethisdon’t happen. There hasn’t been an incident in a decade, though, and people have started breaking curfew more often, seeming to forget why it was imposed in the first place.
This is a hell of a reminder.
Heavy footsteps thud behind me moments before my Uncle Cole shoulders past, striding quickly across the kitchen to his wife’s side. He takes in the sight of the woman on the table, his brows drawing in.
“Why isn’t she healing?” he asks, voice low.
“Must be the bullet,” Aunt Juliet replies hoarsely.
“If it’s silver, she won’t heal until it’s out,” Tobias states calmly as he strides quickly into the kitchen, medical kit in hand. He sets it down, carding his fingers through his auburn hair and turning to Juliet. “What’ve we got?”
Uncle Cole steps away so that Tobias can take his place, moving back to observe while Tobias and my aunt start murmuring grimly to one another about the woman’s condition and pulling supplies out of the bag. The two of them went to med school together and currently work in the same hospital, though Tobias works in pediatrics rather than in the emergency room like my aunt.
From my position in the doorway, their backs are to me, so I can’t really see what they’re doing from my viewpoint as they get to work. Instead, my eyes focus on the steady drip of blood running from the table to the floor, glazing over as I stare in frozen horror at the growing maroon puddle.
I understand the urge to break curfew. We’re shifters, and the more we restrain our inner wolves, the more they thrash with the itch to get out and run. It’s a primal need within all of us, one we’ve had to learn to tamp down in order to stay safe.
Not everyone can, and this is the consequence. A cruel reminder of the evil in this world.
It wasn’t always this way. There weren’t any restrictions on shifting until ten years ago, when hunters found their way to this territory and killed three members of the pack over the course of a week. I didn’t live here at the time, but I know they went into complete lockdown for several months after until the hunters cleared out and left the area. We took precautions of our own in my pack’s home territory at the time, afraid they’d find us next. And right when we all started to feel safe again, prepared to return to normalcy, word got around that other packs had been hit.
Nobody knows how these hunters learned of our existence, but it was obvious that they were on a crusade to exterminate our kind. Their methods of hunting us improved. Silver bullets to prevent healing. Wolfsbane to suppress our inner animal. Weaknesses they only could’ve learned about through capture and torture of other wolf shifters.
So, the curfew went into effect. Regulations were imposed on shifting and safeguards were put in place so that we could do it securely, without fear of getting shot at, should the hunters ever return. But a measly half hour allotment to run within a half mile radius just doesn’t cut it for some wolves. Hence the curfew breaking.
“How did they get past our border security?” my uncle growls to Remy, the warrior who carried the woman in. As Alpha of this pack, Cole is the one who makes the rules and the one the warriors answer to.
“They didn’t. They tripped the alarm,” Remy responds. He’s still painted in the woman’s blood, staring vacantly at her limp form on the table as Tobias and Aunt Juliet hastily work to save her life. “That’s how we knew to go looking for them, but they’d already found Amelia…”
“Where’s her mate?” Uncle Cole demands.
Remy starts to shake his head as two more warriors appear in the kitchen, speckled with mud, pale-faced and solemn.
“We found Omar,” one of them provides. “He’s… gone. Bullet to the head.”
“Shit,” my uncle hisses under his breath.
A shrill scream cuts through the room, my gaze pinging back to the woman-Amelia- on the table as she thrashes beneath Tobias’ hands, suddenly awake and in obvious pain.
“Help me hold her!” Tobias bellows, and my uncle and the other warriors rush over instantaneously, fanning around the table to hold Amelia down as her shrieks and cries fill the kitchen.
“I’ve almost… got it…” Aunt Juliet murmurs through gritted teeth, still leaning over Amelia, a pair of forceps in her grip.
It isn’t until she lifts her hand that I realize she’s dug the bullet out of Amelia’s chest, but that’s also the moment I realize how eerily quiet it is all of the sudden- Amelia’s no longer screaming or thrashing, she’s just…still.
My aunt drops the bullet onto a metal tray with a clang, ditching the forceps and leaning back in over Amelia. Without missing a beat, she plugs the woman’s nose, tilts her head back, and starts performing CPR.
The image in front of me blurs as I stand there on shaky legs, still watching from the doorway. Time slows to a crawl. Everyone looks on anxiously as Aunt Juliet blows air into Amelia’s mouth and counts out chest compressions.
But it’s too late.
Minutes pass.
Three.
Five.
