Riding a wolf should be like riding a bike, yet I struggle to maintain my balance. I push my hand out behind me, reaching for the pull of the storm's energy. I call it to me, shouting a command, belting out at the top of my lungs for it to follow us. Like a lumbering giant, it begins to curl and twist in our direction. 

I cough and sputter as waves crash all around us; it takes everything in the slight female to avoid the swells that threaten to swallow us whole. "Tyler. Tyler, wake up." I demand of him, touching the white fluff of her neck with my battered hand to keep her straighter. She snaps at me, and I snort; if she has the energy to fight, she has the energy to run.

I glance up to see the dark, lilth figures following us on the rocks. As the beach begins to widen, I find we're running across a broad sandy surface and the rock wall is getting shorter and shorter. Lightning flashes, illuminating the sets of light eyes. 

I press her faster, closing my fist on the storm as I do my best to pull it along with us. It's as if we are outrunning the world, hardly moving compared to the speed of the encroachment. Thunder rolls across the sky, blocking out our heavy breathing and I find that I can't even shiver anymore, between the wind and the blistering rain, I begin to almost feel warm. 

"Tyler!" I try again, giving him a firm shake.

I hear the rolling purr, mixed with the rumble of thunder. "Keep them away from us, Malka." I tell the female, there are similarities between her and her grandfather but I can feel her youth. She's inexperienced, her stride is shorter and more choppy, and she doesn't have the muscle mass or the sense of purpose. 

Suddenly, I'm reminded of the train with the continuous roar that is behind us, looking over my shoulder, I see the blackness that bears down on us, the sheet of thick heavy rain approaches like an omen of death. I curse under my breath; at least we have succeeded in making the turn, now to get out of its way. "We have to get off the sand." 

I try desperately to steer her with my knees but commands fail me, she's just running, running as fast as her legs will take her. Tyler is limp in my lap, restricting my movements. The cats close in, slipping and sliding down the lessening rock face. I can't do it all, we can't fight and run and control this storm.

 Digging my hands into her scruff, I yank hard. "Slow down," I command her, she snaps at the air, striking out with a rough leap with her front paws. I grasp Tyler, almost losing him. I yank back on her scruff, digging in my heels. "Do as I say! We're being followed!" 

The icy eye glances over her shoulder and her tail threatens to tuck between her legs. I tighten my grip, "Do not be afraid. I'm going to protect you, but you have to trust me."

I pull again, fighting with her as we begin to slow down. I feel her sides heaving; her tongue lawls out of her mouth as the heavy sand sucks at her paws. We can't maintain this speed, I must hurry. I wave at the cats, threatening them. With a sharp swing of my hand, I throw ice at their feet. "Come on!" I beckon. "Come on, you bastards!"

The creatures hiss, bounding towards us, sand flinging all around as their paws burrow into the soggy sand. As the tide sucks out I give it a harsh pull, casting it back onto the beach. Malka yelps as the water sucks her feet out from under her, the black water threatens to swallow us, but it does the same for our adversaries. 

The cats howl and scream, hauntingly like human women, as they slosh through the depths. I dig for Tyler in the surf, catching his shirt and yanking him to the surface. His eyes flutter as he coughs, I clutch him to my chest as we're pulled under once more. 

I see Malka's head appear above the water and swim for her as another wave comes crashing onto us. It feels as though we're underwater forever, I surrender to the current and finally, we're able to surface. My hand finds her scruff and I shove Tyler onto her back. With both of us, her body sinks under the water, and I hesitate. 

The wave swallows us once again, hungry for souls to fill the blackness, and the cats vanish under the surf, I shut my eyes tightly, fighting to stay with the two. As Malka drags us back to the surface, I cover Tyler's hands with my own and bury them in her fur. "Get him to shore. Save him." I plead with her. 

Her ears lay back as I shove Tyler up onto her back. The chill is all-consuming; my teeth chatter as I feel the water pulling at us again. "Helen. Save Tyler." 

The eye looks familiar, softer, gentler. She whines, and I hold my breath as we're thrown under once more. I shove away from them, letting go as the water pulls me back into the depths. Everything feels calm underwater, there's a push and pull, but the chaos above is all but forgotten. 

The surface of the water dances and lights streak across the shattered surface in a beautiful displacement of destruction. I shut my eyes, the burn of the salt to unpleasant. I thought drowning would be painful and yet, I feel at peace. The chill begins to fade, and a slow-building warmth replaces it. In my last moments of consciousness, I apologize to my warlord, who would be dying with me. 

Little did he know the safest place for him was unattached to me; the thought made me smirk; it was my turn to cost us our lives. 

The blackness doesn't meet me, instead the unpleasant white light peeks around my unwilling eyelids. I expected my father, I was ready to tell him all that I had learned and all that I tried to accomplish, and when that didn't happen I could only assume I had used up my journeys to purgatory. 

My worst fears might be coming true, I hadn't earned any sort of afterlife, and I was doomed to float in the abyss for the rest of my existence. 

As I begin to come around, to get used to this new sense of self, I realize that I'm painful and that doesn't coincide with being dead. I've been dead often enough to know it's at least not painful. Slowly, my eyes begin to creep open and I flinch at the burn of sea salt remnant. 

Rubbing my eye with the back of my hand, I groan as I slowly roll onto my side. I'm hot, hotter than I've been in many months. My hands smack all around me, trying to get away from the fire pit I must be lying in only to realize I'm covered by an oversized, dense comforter. 

Slowly, my hand hesitates, and I sit bolt upright. The comforter covers my battered legs, cut and bruised from my time in the surf. 

Am I not dead? I touch my chest, feeling my pounding heartbeat as I try and steady my rapid breathing. But how? My hands pat all around me, but I have none of my things, I clutch my hand on the thin material of a light cotton shirt that I was not wearing before. 

Swallowing hard, I come to terms with the thought that someone had dressed me, someone had seen me. But how? How was I alive? My head throbs, threatening to blur my vision from the intensity. 

Light gleams through the window curtains and I hear the distant melody of a bird chirping. 

A sweet, sing-song little bird surrounded by light, so carefree, so enthralled with its life. So the storm had turned? We had been successful? We. Helen, Tyler, Reid? What had happened to them? I slide to the edge of the bed and flinch; my entire body protests and I think twice about being so hasty. 

"Damn it..." My voice is rough, croaking from all the shouting. Reaching up, I rub my sore throat and spot a glass of water on the nightstand with a small bottle of pills. 

As much as I didn't want to indulge this person, a drink and some meds were welcome. I snatch the glass and greedily drink half before taking two of the pills and downing the rest. I can't help but sigh in relief, the fresh taste compared to the salty residue in my mouth was quite welcomed.

 I explore my body with my hands, prodding the sore places but satisfied that nothing was broken. My ribs ached, and my arms felt as though they had been stretched beyond their limits. I end at my hair, feeling the crusty, salt riddles mop and wrinkling my nose. 

I start to teeter on the edge of hysteria at the thought that I was now a captive and mild acceptance that maybe David had sent aid when our car crashed. 

Regardless, I need to go to meet my host. Standing up, I take in the stark room. Shades of brown, beige, and cream are the decore, it's very clean and tidy, orderly enough to be a government-provided room. It proceeds to calm my nerves and I step out of the bedroom into the hallway.

 The tiles are cool on my feet, a state of glossy that can only be achieved with meticulous care. I follow the empty hall towards the main room, where I hear a television playing gently in the background. Indeed a murderer wouldn't watch television. 

I almost want to laugh at myself for my fear; what would a stranger want with a half-drowned Romanian? 

I smell meat cooking and the strong scent of freshly brewed coffee, my stomach growls as I round the corner. "David, how did you find me?" 

I stop in my tracks, gazing upon my rescuer. The gray hair is short, messy, and tangled on top but close on the sides. The simple pale cotton shirt clings to his shoulders as he glances over his shoulder at me. The distressed jeans cling to his hips in a loose fashion, looser than I would picture for someone who appreciates order as he does.

 I swallow hard, taking a step backward. 

"Not David, sorry." The apology almost sounds genuine, as if he figures I wouldn't want to see him. As if he believed I hadn't thought about him every day I allowed myself to. 

I approach slowly and he gives me my space, tossing the sausage around in the pan with a spatula. Cautiously, he sets a plate of fresh-cut strawberries on the counter for me. "I wasn't quite expecting to feed a vegetarian; you'll have to forgive me. Coffee?"

"Randy." I manage. He sets the cup down with almost too much care; as if the slightest movement would frighten me away. "What- how- I don't..." I fight with myself and I settle for just sitting down on the barstool to take a bite of one of the strawberries, freshly washed. "What are you doing here?"

He pulls his eyebrows together. "I live here?" I blink rapidly at him. Have I already forgotten how secretive he was? Weren't we past this? My shoulders deflate and I shake my head in disbelief as I take another bite of strawberry. "You called me, I think. Or you called Alpha. I saw on the news that you were coming to Long Island so I-" 

He hesitates and I glance up through my lashes, pleading him to let me in. 

"I followed you." He admits. "In a way, I had an event over here anyway; with the evacuation, I suppose that's canceled, but I guess I wanted to make sure you would be alright. I heard a howl, I went out to see what was happening, and I heard you speaking to someone. Malka..?"

I hold up my hands. "Wait- You went out into a hurricane because you thought you heard me?"

"Of course. Who else would have lycans? It sounded like Helen."

I suppose that makes sense. I take another bite before nodding. "Malka is Helen's wolf."

He hides his interest, taking a fork to cut one of the sausages in the pan and taking a bite before pulling out a plate and setting them out. "It's good you've named her, so that is going alright?"

I consider lying, but as I swallow, I decide against it. "No. She's dying, it would seem. Malka is completely feral, I had to throw us into the ocean to get away from the cats and stop her. She had Tyler- Tyler! Where's Tyler?!" 

He holds up his hands. 

"Kitten has them, she lives just next door."

"Kitten?" Marisol. But she lives next door? So they aren't together? "Reid..." I try. 

He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest and exhaling shakily. 

"Randy.. I'm so sorry.." 

Reid was my friend, but I feel as though Verando had gotten to spend so little time with him. I feel the overwhelming guilt, I took that from him; I kept him from Reid. If I had picked Verando instead, Reid would still be alive, we might be in a totally different situation. 

"Not much to do about it. I called the cleanup crew, they'll give him a proper burial. A young wolf is a dangerous thing, and it was never Reid's job to play babysitter. With that and the cats... he fought a good fight." 

It takes everything in me not to go to him, not to hug him and tell him it's alright. But what could I do? 

"So. You almost drowned? Can't you control water?" A slight attempt at sarcasm makes me wrinkle my nose, though it does bring a small smile to the corner of my mouth. 

I shrug half-heartedly, "I was a little drained... must have slipped my mind to just do away with the ocean."

"Mmm, makes sense. Well, the news is quite impressed with you this morning." He takes the remote off the counter and presses a button. I turn in my seat to watch the woman, the same as the past few days, showing from an overhead view the destruction of the hurricane but according to the anchorwoman, it was much less than we had anticipated, and it would appear that moving so close to land was slowing the storm down. 

By the time it landed, it would have decreased in energy and given the droughted area a much-deserved heavy rain. They were calling it a miracle, calling it a gift from god. The camera shows people in the streets, holding signs thanking the mystery worker. David is making a speech, talking about the victory for the cause. 

I cross my arms over my chest, rolling my eyes at the man who I can envision as anything else but a messy eater. He speaks so lazily, his accent coming out in full swing, as he talks of the future and how we are finally on the right track. Somehow, I felt as though we were only preventing one disaster. We hadn't fixed anything; I couldn't keep doing this. 

"Is David your boyfriend?" 

I choke on my coffee. 

"What?"

"You asked if I was David. That man's name is David. I think I recognize him from the compound?"

I cough, trying to clear my throat and my mind. Is Verando jealous? This is quite a phenomenon.

 "That's a rather personal question-" I consider letting him fester, but the look on his face makes me reconsider, and I compose myself. 

"No, David is not my boyfriend or even my friend. He's just my partner, I think you could say." This seems to relax him and he softens slightly as he pours more coffee into my cup. The gentler expression melts my hard exterior, and I find that I'm staring, which dimples his cheek in amusement. 

Annoyed by his satisfied expression, I narrow my eyes. "Verando, what are you doing here? Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to you, but you said you live here..? David said you were sold."