My dreams are strangely vivid as my sister and a wolf chase me, it's been so long since I'd dreamt of wolves trying to harm me, and I find it quite unsettling. While the creature is persistent, he never gets close enough actually to touch me, and somehow that makes it all the more frightening. 

Usually, it's a recognizable beast, yet this one almost has no features, not even a color that I can recall. My dream fades from memory as quickly as my eyes can open, only to recur the moment I close them again. They take turns, a horrific game of cat and mouse that leaves me tossing and turning with little rest. 

As the beast lunges, I sit up and clutch my heaving chest. 

I feel as though I've hardly slept, "Damn it..." I murmur, running a hand through my hair as I try to dispel the tremble that comes with an evening of nightmares and the withdrawal of having too much to drink. The window is overcast and dim despite the hour. 

Turning my attention to the other side of the bed, I see that my companion is gone, and recall how our evening went. 

My fingers trail to my lips, tracing over them fondly as I relax into the knowledge that at least something went right. My body is sore, even more so than before when I was only battered and bruised. I could see imprints of his fingers on my thighs as I move the covers, feel the sting of his teeth against my neck, and shiver as my libido pleads for more.

I had been drunk last night, but at least I had most of my memories, however fuzzy.

The feeling of his lips on mine is easy to recall, his warmth, his strength as he held me. My hand finds something warm, and I roll my fingers, palpating the furry mass. Jerking away in surprise, I'm met with a gentle meow from a pale cat curled up so innocently beside me. Wrinkling my nose, I wave my hand at it to dislodge it from my presence, but it doesn't move.

Rolling onto its back to bat at my hand, it must assume that I meant to scratch it. An insult to my intelligence, no doubt; unfortunately for the vermin, I'm much more of a dog person. 

"So he got a cat..." I grumble. "I didn't see you yesterday." 

The brown paw clutches my finger hopefully, and a squeaky chirp is my response. It could almost be cute if it weren't so unassuming.

Retracting my hand, I stand up and realize I'm naked, glancing over my shoulder at the large blue eyes of the feline I quickly reach for my shirt only to find it's no longer on the floor. I feel the judgment of the world in those eyes, watching me so intently like a tiny little stalker. 

With no clothes here, I'd have to borrow some of his. "I swear to the gods if you are a person, you best show yourself now, or I'll freeze you solid, cat."

 A gentle purr resounds in the furry chest, and I warn myself to get a grip; I'm yelling at a damned cat.

 Yet, I run as if the devil himself is chasing me to the closet. 

Where I expect endless searching, I find multiple outfit choices set out, and on closer inspection, they're casual, as if they were carefully chosen to be tolerable if they were too long. Stepping into the jeans and rolling up the legs, I try not to allow myself to be amused at the sagging waist. 

Suspicion creeping over me, I look out the door to see the cat is gone, and I sigh in relief, only to glance down and see the beast winding around my legs. Practically falling over from the surprise, I jump over it with a distinct lack of grace and scramble out of the bedroom and into the living space, yanking the shirt over my head with a flurry of curses. 

"It would appear that the missing person list is ever-expanding this morning, the count reaching a suspected 15 with calls still coming in. Where are all these people going? Stay tuned to hear what experts have to say." 

Pausing to watch the television, I drag my tongue over my teeth in mild disappointment that I lack a toothbrush, as face after face flicks across the screen. A variety of age ranges, including men and women, from accountants to CEOs, people were disappearing from their homes without a trace. 

A flashing headline rolls across the screen, suspected sex trafficker strikes in Long Island. 

My expression drops when I see Senator Campbell on that list.

 Were my suspicions correct?

"Sex trafficker?" I grumble, and Marisol greets me from the kitchen. I can't help but deflate at her presence. "Good morning." I attempt to be polite as I enter the kitchen, grabbing the jug of milk and pouring myself a glass. She places a bottle of pills in front of me, and as much as I'd like to resist, I take a few and swallow them down greedily. 

"You look like shit. I thought you got what you wanted?" She gestures to my clothes and I frown at her, what I truly wanted was to have privacy after yet another woman had found her way into our lives. 

There was a time when I wondered why he surrounded himself with men. I'm beginning to suspect the man was just atrocious when it came to women.

 Of course, he could attract them, but dealing with them in a manner that didn't create a world of trouble seemed out of his grasp. 

"I'm thinking this is not a sex trafficker, I'm not sure what it is, but Doe says the Senator went wolf last night?" 

So he'd already talked to her. 

I accept the fact that he had considered I'd want my rest, regardless of how it makes me feel to know he had been awake long enough to fill her in. 

Maybe he wanted to get away from me? Perhaps he regretted his choices?

I can't help the mental gymnastics of self-loathing that came after incredible, drunken sex. "I suppose you could say that, or at least he tried to. Where is Verando?" I pronounce his name entirely, it doesn't go unnoticed.

Smirking at me, passing me a plate of hashbrowns, she must have caught on to my lack of interest in meat. Marisol is a fascinating creature, and I find I'm continually surprised by her. 

Where I always seem to find malicious intent in her initial response, a closer examination often leads me to a different conclusion. I'm too used to snarky expressions and hidden meanings. Marisol says precisely what she means, and it's clear as day on her face. 

"Don't worry, I'm going to the inner cities today to check on water supplies, I won't be in your way." She gestures with a tilt of her head towards the door. "On a run with Helen, Tyler is getting some sleep. Malka was active last night, but it was less than before, poor kid. I think you're about to get a roomie, you might have to come live with me." She winks as she takes a bite of bacon, and I struggle to hide my smile. 

Stop being a jerk, I scold myself. 

"That's not necessary... I'm happy to share. He's helping Helen, that's fantastic, and I'm truly sorry if I made you feel unwelcome. I didn't mean to be hostile... Red was at the event last night, and she got under my skin, and I shouldn't take it out on you." 

Marisol raises an eyebrow, and I realize that I've said too much, cramming a mouth full of hashbrowns down as I turn away to watch the newscast. They spin ideas off of each other, mixed with propaganda about the arrival of 'Mistress' and her involvement. 

Some are saying that the 'end of world 'ers are killing people as sacrifices and to scare her away, while I'd love to believe that, I think the answer is much more straightforward. 

"How long do you think until they catch on that these people are turning into lycans?"

"What makes you say that?" She questions.

I shrug, taking another bite and sighing in appreciation. "Well, Verando is an Alpha, and in our time, wherever we went, lycans had a strange way of finding him. People we didn't even know would lay down their lives for him, I assumed it was his reputation, but seeing him with Helen, I'm wondering if it's just a dominance thing.

 He's all over TV, he's singing at that club, and we heard him on the radio the other day; what if he's triggering dormant lycans?"

"That's quite the theory..." But she doesn't dismiss me entirely as she taps her nails lightly on the counter, chewing thoughtfully on her second piece of bacon. "In the compound..." She freezes, shutting her eyes tightly as if something had struck her. Caught off guard, I quickly go to her, but she holds up her hand to stop me.

 "They were... very... interested in figuring out how to make new lycans. If this is what is happening, we need to find these people before they do." 

I hedge, biting my lower lip. "Can you tell me what happened, Marisol?"

She sighs, shaking her head. "No te preocupes por eso. Doe says you've been tortured, you already know what happened to us." It didn't feel quite the same, yet the look on her face said I should leave it alone.

The door swings open, letting in a wet gust of wind as the pouring rain swirls through the brisk breeze. Inhaling sharply, I excitedly ran for the door, slipping right past the sopping-wet duo, only to have Verando grab me at the last moment. 

"It's freezing out there, absolutely not."

"Randy, this is my element." I push past him to step out onto the porch, only to immediately wheel around with a pang of regret to come back inside, rubbing my arms with the chill. "Alright, maybe it's a touch cold outside." 

They're practically steaming, their clothes clinging to their bodies as they tremble at the main entrance. Marisol quickly rushes off to grab some towels as Helen's teeth chatter, and she hugs herself. 

"Weeee... ran t-t-t-te-ten milessss." She manages through her chattering teeth and a massive grin. "It felt amazz-zing." 

"I hope you don't catch your death..." But seeing her happy for once makes me happy; it's hard to be upset at their running conditions when they both look so thrilled with themselves.

 Marisol throws them their towels, "Go shower; you both smell as though you have been running in the ocean." 

Truthfully, I'm not quite ready for him to see the news story yet, and I want to prepare myself for what I will tell him. 

As they part ways, Marisol elbows me, "Inform our leader of your suspicions before he comes to his own. I promise you, what he comes up with is much worse than your theory."

"He's going to blame himself." I frown.

She shrugs. "You're capable of handling that man, don't make me do it for you. Take one for the team, darling." 

Her teasing tone incites a scowl. It will have to wait, because if I go in there now, there is no way he'll leave that bathroom without me demanding a repeat of last night. With a house full of people, it seems distasteful to command such a thing. Feeling frightened by my newfound conscience, I eat more hashbrowns and nibble on some fruit, finding myself enthralled by the newscasters. 

Television was such an incredible advancement; where I used to see no point in it, I now couldn't imagine my morning without it. The news stories had their merits and uses—no more treks to the town square or relying on internal intel for our knowledge. 

Tyler drags himself out of a backroom, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand, and I grab him a cup of coffee as a peace offering.

"Helen is so cold... but.. she looks happy." He smiles as he accepts the cup gratefully and takes a drink. "Thank you, sir. For whatever ya did to convince her grandfather to help her." 

Grandfather. I flinch and purse my lips. 

"Right, didn't quite think about that one." His accent is pleasing, southern, and charming. "But, thank ya all the same. I see that it's rainin'?"

"It is. We did that." I reassure him.

 Now, what was our next move? 

I suppose it was time to move on to a different city, a new region, yet there was still so much to be done here, and with Red in town, leaving this place behind felt incredibly irresponsible. 

"Once we get a break, we'll go down to the ocean, and you can work on the parts of your body and how they coexist with your element. The saltwater is harder to freeze, so it'll be good practice for you."

He nods, blinking away the exhaustion. Tyler was probably one of the amiable men I know. "Yes, sir."

 Marisol sets an overstacked plate of pancakes down in front of him and fixes his hair. "Eat, you're dead on your feet."

"Thank ya, ma'am." 

She winks at him as he dives in as if he hadn't eaten in days. I remember those days all too well. They were going through the same thing we were, only they had us where we had to figure it out all on our own. 

Verando enters the room, in nothing but his jeans, as he scrubs a hand through his hair and shoulders a shirt. 

"Ah, hell, you make me feel like a bum when you walk around like that." He complains, shaking his head at my warlord, who gives him a surprised look. 

"Why on earth would you feel like a homeless person from my appearance?" he asks, taking stock of himself with a slow turn, and I can't help but agree.

"He makes us all feel like that, Tyler. It's quite unfair, isn't it?" 

"Very. He's like a damn Brahma bull." 

Marisol laughs out loud at the comparison, and Verando wrinkles his nose in offense. 

"Er.. where I come from, that's a compliment, sir. You're in very good shape."

"Yes, well, where I come from, you might get your ass fairly well kicked for such commentary. Take note, gents, that I've been up for hours dedicating my time to physical fitness. Perhaps you should complain a bit less and work a bit harder, yeah? In the morning, I can wake up both for a run if it means so much to you." 

 Tyler flushes, melting into his chair from the embarrassment, and I wave the man off as he walks over to partake in breakfast. Kissing the woman on the cheek, he snags a piece of bacon. 

"Thank you, Kitten, for breakfast. Someone is up and at 'em." 

I gape at her and she giggles at me. 

"You sneaky wench!" I gasp.

She shrugs innocently. "Early bird gets the grape, I think it goes."

"That'd be a worm, ma'am." Tyler corrects. 

"Thank you, Tyler." Her mood is sickening, yet I can't be upset with how normal this all seems. It brings me back to the days when we were in the duke's castle, a big family crowded around a kitchen while I made breakfast. Before I knew it, my cheeks felt wet, and I wiped at my eyes with a sniffle that startled me. 

Verando eyes me from across the table, concern on his face, and I force a small smile. 

"Just... missing everyone. This- I was thinking about our time after the boat ride to the Duke's castle. Before we lost-" I can't bring myself to say before we lost Victor, things got tough. 

"I miss them too."

"I think I read about that?" Helen adds, tugging her shirt on as she enters the room, looking much more like herself, save for the weight loss. Like a true lycan, she wrinkles her nose at the food options. Verando produces a container from the fridge and sets it down on the counter, taking the lid off, and the iron smell of blood hits my nose. 

He gestures with his cup before taking a sip of his coffee.

 "Smell that."

"What is it?"

"Did I ask you to look?" He snaps back roughly.

Marisol takes a deep inhale and groans appreciatively. "You bad boy. You went hunting."

"Almost. I got lucky; there's a butcher not far from here, so it's not going to be as good as wild-caught, but it's better than store-bought. Your wolf will like it." 

Tyler almost gags at the thought and covers his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"You're going to feed her raw meat?!" He demands.

The pair of lycans stare him down, and he frowns at them. I extend my hand, resting it on his shoulder. 

"You get used to it, it is what makes them happy. Her wolf needs to feel like it has an opinion, or we'll keep getting these outbursts."

 Helen takes a small step forward and inhales, taking a long, deep breath before approaching the container with wide eyes. 

"Do I... do I just bite it...?" 

Verando rolls his eyes dramatically.

"If you'd like to be a beast, I suppose. Some of us use cutlery." He hands her the knife, she cuts herself a small piece from the slab. I'm grateful not to be able to see the hunk, only imagining its state as I think of the slaughtered horse in the stable last time Alpha took control when he was trying to convince himself to be human. 

Only, there were no horses here for Malka to eat. She makes an appreciative sound as she chews, sighing in relief as if she were tasting something for the first time. 

Glancing up, almost embarrassed, she manages a smile. "It's incredible." She allows.

He gestures to the container. 

"Go ahead. Go crazy." He takes a step back.

I am utterly unprepared for her to grasp an individual slab and take a bite out of it as if it were her morning toast. Marisol chuckles at the scene while I try to remind myself this is natural, Tyler is pale and looks like he doesn't know who she is anymore. 

"Imagine if it had a pulse..." Verando sighs, reminiscing. 

Helen perks, straightening at the thought. "Can we go hunting?" She asks hopefully. 

Marisol seems to perk up as well, dislodging her envious eyes from the girl as she watches him hopefully. 

"People?" Tyler squeaks, and we collectively laugh. 

It feels good to laugh, it feels good to enjoy this time with our blended pack. Slowly, we were rebuilding our lives here, and hope was beginning to glimmer at the end of this eternal tunnel. This could end, and we could be happy here. 

But nothing lasts in our lives. Our happiness is short-lived as our lycan companions direct their attention to the door and a low growl curls from Verando's chest; with no warning, the door flings open and the 'Alpha mini-me' stands in the doorway. 

It would appear it wasn't only the fall-out rejects that were looking for us, and our time at the benefit had given away our location; where else would his feral wolf daughter go now that she was cursed?

 We had led him right to us, Legardo, with no Tonya to buffer his anger.