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Hades

"Hurry!" I roar as I enter the hospital, two stretchers wheeled in on either side of me.

The pack doctor and one of the best Upper surgeons, Dr. Mendes, had been warned of our arrival and are ready.

The Uppers were a group of super-wealthy humans, holding over fifty percent of the world's wealth. That was the only thing putting them in a position of power, as they held no other physically enhanced features that set them apart. Unlike us and the vampires. And the witches, who were few and far between. Ever since The Great Cleansing, which only occurred because one of their own had betrayed their kind and aligned themselves with the vampires.

The Upper surgeon had been flown in by helicopter and arrived just minutes before, courtesy of my friend Damien, two territories over. While the pack doctor could deal with minor human injuries, the injuries sustained by the woman on my right, the woman from my dreams, were beyond his scope.

She was dying. While the hand that had grasped mine before had held it firmly, the one I now held was limp and lifeless. Even the sparks I felt prior were now mild. Her breathing was shallow, and I was struggling to pick up her heart rate. That says a lot, considering my hearing was exceptional.

"Take him to operating theatre one." The pack doctor, Dr. Thorne, issues the order, and the two nurses standing nearby immediately jump into action. He and Sol follow them closely as they wheel Craven away. Thanks to the woman beside me, Sol only sustained a few superficial injuries.

Cravens' injuries, however, were severe. Even with our advanced healing, the wounds were not repairing. Courtesy of the silver-tipped nails and fangs the group of vampires that had attacked sported. A new development in their repertoire of weapons against us. Fitted explicitly with the purpose of hunting and even killing our kind. New weapons, old war.

While a strained peace had existed between vampires and werewolves for many years, this incident had snapped that delicate tether. All packs had been alerted, and the command had been issued. Any werewolves coming in contact with vampires now had a killed-on-sight order, no questions asked. The Council, comprised of Upper, werewolf, and vampire elders, would protest, but I would deal with that later.

"Prep operating theatre two and call my hospital. Tell Dr. Shawn I need him to get over here as soon as possible. Do you have a C.A.T. scanner?" Dr. Mendes doesn't look up as he asks the question, a small flashlight shining in the woman's eyes as he holds one and then the other open.

"Down the hall." One of the nurses at the front desk answers.

"Okay. We operate first and stop the internal bleeding, and then we send her for a C.A.T. scan. Let's go!" He dips his head towards the two Upper nurses he brought with him.

"You need to let go, Your Majesty. We need to operate." Before I can answer, Red is flying through the door, squawking and silencing everyone. He circles the stretcher beside me and then lands on the woman's chest.

There was no doubt now that Red, my dreams, and this woman were connected. He led me to her today.

"No. We go with you." Dr. Mendes looks at Red and me and then down at my hand connected to hers. From all that, he must see that there is no other option.

"Let's go." With that, we all move towards operating theatre two.

While things are happening around us, I take a moment to look at the woman whose limp hand is still in mine. I can let it go, but it feels like she will be gone if I do. Why does that matter? I do not analyze it. I can't. Because analyzing that will be like losing Drea all over again. It would break me.

Her scarlet hair is splayed across the white hospital sheet. The strands are dull. Not like my dream. In my dream, the strands sparkle, and light bounces off it. Her face is probably usually pale, but at this moment, it is a canvas of color. Red from the blood, black, brown, and purple from bruising. Her nose is broken, and one eye is swollen shut. Her eyes, which I know are green, were barely that earlier when the doctor pried them open. With the pupils blown out, her irises were scarcely visible, and the red burst vessels of the sclera tell of trauma. Probably from the strangling she has clearly suffered, coming into view as the nurse starts cutting through the scarf and clothing covering her body.

It only gets worse from there as more of her body is revealed. Gasps are heard around the room, and then there is silence. Red, now perched on my shoulder, has even stopped his squawking.

Scratches litter her arms, along with fang marks, which are everywhere. Her entire torso has fresh, partly healed, or healed fang marks. Her one side sports a massive bruise, and you can tell by the way that side looks versus the other that some ribs are broken. As the nurse continues to cut through the clothing, this woman's abuse becomes even more apparent. Fresh fang marks litter her inner upper thigh and peter off down her legs where even more scars mar her skin. Skin that covers bone. There is not an ounce of fat on her.

It is unthinkable. Incomprehensible. This is years of abuse.

While her lack of clothing reveals the horrors she has suffered, it also reveals something else: lilies and honey. Her scent engulfs me. Now that her clothing is gone, its potency hits me like a ton of bricks and snaps something into place—something I cannot believe. Something I won't believe.

"Your Majesty?" Dr. Mendes is speaking to me, and his expression indicates concern. When I look around the room, everyone looks petrified.

That's when I register the loud growl coming from me. My claws are out on my other hand, along with hair halfway up my arm. I blink my eyes, aware they are now pitch black.

My Lycan is here and fighting me. We know what she is to us, and we cannot endure her state. We want revenge.

I nod my head, indicating he continues. But the operation is stressful for everyone. With every cut of her skin, it feels like a cut is slashed into myself. And the longer I stand there, counting the fang marks on her skin, the angrier I get until I am frothing at the mouth, my Lycan pushing forward to make a gnashing sound.

When one nurse faints from fear, Dr. Mendes implores me to leave. But I cannot. I cannot let go of her hand. Red's presence is strangely comforting, and when he senses I am losing it, he squawks and nuzzles his beak against my face. This pulls me back from the precipice.

Five hours later and three fainted nurses down, we are in a private ICU unit. The woman is hooked up to all manner of monitors, and bags of liquid are being pumped into her veins.

"Your Majesty." Dr. Shawn, the neurologist flown in at Dr. Mendes' request, and the doctor in question walk through the doors, their faces looking grim.

I eye them warily and then nod, indicating they continue.

"We have stopped the internal bleeding. Her lung was punctured, and she has three broken ribs. We have set her broken nose, and the scan shows no sign of swelling of the brain or any permanent brain damage."

The doctors look at each other and then at me. Fuck. Theres more. Obviously.

"She has been strangled, but it looks like it's a day or two old. She is severely underweight and malnourished. She is also anemic." No shit Sherlock. With vampires using her as food, her iron levels were bound to be depleted.

Dr. Mendes clears his throat, looking at Dr. Shawn again before speaking.

"There are obvious signs of abuse. We have seen loads of these cases linked with the illegal pet slave trade. Though, I have not seen a pet last as long as this. It is clear from the scarring and x-rays, which reveal a long history of broken bones throughout her body, that she has been in the system for at least fifteen years. Most pets last two max."

They are not saying anything I don't suspect, but their verbal confirmation, coupled with the physical torture of looking at her lying in the hospital bed, sends me over the edge.

Screams break out, and I barely make it out of the hospital before I have shifted and am running through the forest toward the holding cells.

The one-armed vampire I had pulled off of the woman, the one who had broken her nose and ribs, was locked up in one of them.

Tearing through the forest, I think of how to make him talk. All the ways I will make him hurt. Even if it weren't him who had caused her all that abuse over the years, he would be the start of my revenge. I would find them all, and for every scar she had, they would get two.

And she had many scars.

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