Downhill
Downhill
I stayed on the ground, recouping from the hurt and pain I suffered. I pressed my palms against the dirt as I sat with my legs sprawled across the floor, my knees bruised from the way they'd shoved and cast me off the porch.
I couldn’t bring myself to rise, as the wooden door to the packhouse having been slammed shut behind me left me with nowhere to go. I'd been kicked out of the pack.
What was I to do next?
I didn't know if I should return and try to argue my case. I knew that'd only be stupid, no one would hear me out. Not one person in there is willing to.
They all despise me!
And right now, the only option I could see was going back to town– where the church hunters were waiting.
For a long moment, all I could do was shake. My chest heaved, my throat feeling raw from screaming against the tide of their accusations.
I had begged, hell, I had cried. And they had looked at me like I was filth.
Knowing I didn't want onlookers getting involved in my business, I dragged myself upright, my legs trembling. I wiped at my face with the back of my sleeve, streaking the tears against the fabric.
I then forced the sobs down, swallowing them like poison.
No more tears.
If they wanted to see me as a traitor, fine. So be it!
If they wanted to spit on my name, I'll let them.
The pack had never truly been mine to begin with. I never belonged in it. The only one who tried to make me fit was Carl and Michael, and now, neither of them was here. Carl is nowhere around and Michael was gone.
The only thread that bound me here had been cut, torn from me in blood and fire.
Thinking about the last, and how I'd even gotten here in the first place. I hated them. All of them.
The way they had stared with disgust as if my very presence defiled them just now, and the way they had believed Jan's words without hesitation.
The way Jerome had twisted the story, making me out to be the architect of Michael’s death.
I repulse all of it!
But more than all of that, I hated myself.
I’d been blind. I’d let gamma Jerome puppeteer me, manipulate me, whisper urgency about sending Michael to the mayor. And I had listened.
I had believed, even when every instinct had told me something was wrong.
My fists clenched at my sides. “Damn you,” I muttered under my breath. “Damn you, Jerome.” I cried.
A bitter laugh scraped out of me, humorless and sharp. What was I even doing fighting for that pack? I’d broken myself to fit their mold, to earn their scraps of trust, and this was my reward. Cast out like garbage.
Even that woman– the one I’d promised to help escape the pack– I saw her face. In the end, she'd turned her face away from me.
She couldn’t even meet my eyes while they dragged me out. She’d hidden, pretending she hadn’t seen.
To hell with her. To hell with all of them.
And Ciel…
A lump rose in my throat. He hadn’t been there. He could have been, but he wasn't.
Where even is he?
Maybe he’d been in the pack and chosen to hide. Maybe he hadn’t come at all, leaving me to burn alone after what's happened.
After all, he couldn't be anywhere else but in the packhouse. Right?
But either way, what did it matter? Why should I care? Michael was dead. I had no place among them anymore. And if Ciel was too ashamed or too cold to stand beside me, then I was better off without him too.
I turned my back on the packhouse without so much as a glance over my shoulder.
The building loomed at the outskirts of town, a shell of stone and wood dressed up to look ordinary just like another large family home.
To the normal eye, it was at worst , a biker gang hangout at the ends of town, harmless if not a little rowdy. But to the hunters who haunted these streets, the truth was far darker. They hadn’t stormed it yet, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t.
My boots crunched on gravel as I walked down the lonely path that led to the packhouse, few houses sparse and quiet far away in the distance ahead. Each one seemed to watch me, shutters closed and curtains drawn.
My skin prickled, every step dragging my thoughts back to survival.
What now?
' Strike a deal with the hunters? Give them a lead on the pack?' I pondered, an intrusive thought.
My lips twisted as I thought to myself, 'it would be easy, wouldn’t it? If they all thought me a traitor, why not prove them right? Why not watch them burn the way they had burned me?'
But I shook my head hard, as though trying to fling the thought away.
Hunters weren’t saviors. They’d kill me as quickly as any other wolf once my usefulness ended. Trusting them would be trading one grave for another.
Still, I couldn’t survive out here with nothing. My only chance at that would have to be leaving town altogether. The hunters must already know what I look like after last night, and I couldn't stay in town anymore after being kicked from the pack.
But to do that, I’d need money. And that meant going back to my old apartment in the heart of town.
I could pawn what little I had left there, enough to buy a disguise, maybe even passage to somewhere far from hunters, far from packs, far from everything. As long as I kept a low profile, I might make it through unnoticed.
But it'd be quite hard to get to that point, if at all. The hunters had seen my face. They’d seen me with Michael when he fell. If they recognized me…
I dragged in a breath and forced my legs to keep moving. I didn't want to think about the horrible possibility. After all, as it stands, I haven't got much choice.
The sun beat down on my shoulders, the road stretching endlessly ahead. My anger kept me warm, kept me moving, but under it all, sadness gnawed at me, relentless and raw. I was hollow, broken, and yet still burning.
All of a sudden, the distant low roar of an engine reached my ears, faint at first, then louder. I stiffened, turning sharply.
And then, a motorcycle approached from behind, sleek black metal gleaming under the sun. My heart clenched when I recognized the rider.
It was Icarus.
His bike slowed as he drew alongside me, the engine rumbling low. He lifted his visor, dark eyes glinting with something unreadable.
I snapped my gaze away, clenching my jaw, and kept walking. “What do you want?” I growled. My voice came out harsher than I expected, brittle with barely contained fury.
What is he doing?
Hasn't he been ignoring me? So why is he here now?
“Relax,” he said, voice smooth, tinged with amusement. “It’s a long walk to town if that’s where you’re headed. Hop on. I’ll give you a lift. I’m going that way anyway.”
I stopped short, narrowing my eyes at him. My instinct screamed to tell him to go to hell, to leave me the hell alone. But my mind ticked over the reality.
Walking into town in broad daylight with no disguise was suicide. Hunters lurked everywhere. And though I hated the thought, riding with Icarus might be my safest option.
“Fine,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.
He chuckled, the sound irritatingly casual, and patted the seat behind him. “There’s the spirit. Don’t make me beg, Luna.”
The title struck like a slap, bitter and mocking now that the pack had stripped it from me. But I bit down on my pride and swung onto the bike, my hands gripping the edge of the seat instead of his jacket.
He didn’t comment, just smirked faintly before gunning the engine.
The wind tore at my hair, the rush of air drowning the rage still boiling in my chest. For a while, the speed and noise numbed me, dulled the sharp edges of grief and fury. But the ache remained, a wound too deep for the wind to wash away.
The ride was silent otherwise, tension stretching taut between us. I refused to speak, and he didn’t push.
When we finally pulled into a small street tucked away in town, I took in the modest house he parked in front of. Small, quiet, unremarkable.
Hunters could pass by here a hundred times without suspecting anything.
“This is it,” he said, killing the engine. “My place. Come in.”
“No thanks,” I shot back immediately, getting ready to find my way back to my place. My previous apartment.
He raised a brow. “Don’t be salty. I’ll drop you wherever you want to go after I grab what I need. Think of it as the last service of a loyal beta to his Luna.”
The sarcasm in his tone cut deep, and for some reason, I couldn't help but he skeptical of him. He'd been off for a while now, and all of a sudden, he was back to being his jovial, carefree and annoying self.
Like I hadn't just been kicked out of the pack and accused of plotting Michael's death. Was he deaf to all of those, and why hadn't he stood up for me earlier if he trusted me?
I couldn't help but feel that there's something wrong about all of this.
But I weighed my options. Walking off alone now would be reckless, and I still needed a lift closer to my apartment. Those hunters are everywhere, watching.
My jaw ached from grinding my teeth, but I nodded once.
“Fine.” I said, before following him into his house.
The inside of his house was eerily quiet. Shadows stretched long across the walls, dust motes glimmering in the shafts of light that pierced through the curtains. It felt… deserted.
' Maybe he really had moved his family out?' I thought it seemed like it.
“ Wait here," he said, jerking his head toward a worn sofa. “I’ll be right back.”
I nodded and watched him go up the stairs from the small parlor. Then I sized the small space that has a homely arrangement, only a bit disheveled and in a bit out of touch.
As I looked around, I lowered myself into the cushions, though my body remained tense, ready to leave. Amidst this, I thought of asking Icarus if he has any stuff I could borrow to disguise or if he had some money he could spare.
I can't hold back at this point. My survival is at risk.
So I waited.
The silence pressed in on me, heavy and... strange. My thoughts churned with everything that had happened, every accusation and all the hateful look.
And then suddenly, I heard something from upstairs.
It was a voice-- different voices. Not too soft but, muffled mutters for sure.
Then came the faint shuffle of footsteps above.
My pulse quickened. I couldn't help but frown.
I rose, standing in the center of the room as creak of steps descended the staircase.
Icarus appeared first, his expression unreadable. And then behind him, clinging to his sides, came a woman and a boy whose faces I recognized too well.
His wife and his son!
Both of them shriveled into his embrace, eyes wide with unease.
My stomach dropped seeing this, confusion slamming into me like a wave, washing against the walls of fear that rose in my heart.
My mind raced, too fast for my thoughts to keep up.
' What the hell is going on.'