For the first time, Marlon's mind felt blank. His thoughts were usually a constant storm, but now, nothing.
He sat beneath the bright moonlight, staring at her, trying to understand the turmoil in his chest.
The caw of a passing crow snapped him back to reality.
Damn, what am I doing? He stood up, hastily packing his gear.
He slung his backpack over his shoulder, then lifted the woman onto his back.
Her face rested against his right shoulder, her scent filling his nose. The soft strands of her hair occasionally brushed his cheek, carried by the wind, unsettling him further.
Car... car... He forced his mind to focus on anything else to avoid slipping back into
that strange daze.
After a ten-minute walk, an old military-green Land Rover from the '80s came into view,
parked on a narrow, muddy trail.
Strangely, Marlon didn't feel the exhaustion from the fight or the weight on his back. His confusion over this unfamiliar emotion overshadowed everything.
He carefully laid her on the back seat.
Gently brushed aside her silver hair where it covered her face.
Then he set down his bag, retrieved a pair of handcuffs, and secured her wrists
and ankles.
A princess of the Royal Canine right...
I need to stay rational about this, Marlon reminded himself.
Despite his inner chaos, he forced himself to act as normally as possible.
He shut the door and moved to the passenger side, tossing his bag onto the seat.
Moments later, Thomas emerged from the trees, carrying a shovel and gripping his sword.
"All set. Let's get outta here," Thomas called.
They both climbed in, with Thomas taking the wheel.
The car rolled out from the trail onto a smooth, wide asphalt road.
They turned left, away from the path leading to London.
Their home was fifteen kilometers from the city gates.
The road stretched ahead, illuminated by headlights, flanked by towering trees filtering
the full moon's glow.
Music played softly inside the car as they drove.
Marlon stole occasional glances at the rearview mirror, trying not to let Thomas notice.
But Thomas was sharp. He smirked at Marlon as if to say, I see you!
"What?!" Marlon snapped defensively.
"Nothin', nothin' at all," Thomas teased, mimicking Marlon's furtive glances.
Marlon turned away, pretending not to understand.
For most of the ride, Thomas sang along to their favorite Oasis tracks—their father's
beloved band, the soundtrack of their childhood hunts.
After forty-five minutes, they reached the turnoff to their home.
A narrower branch road led them through more trees before opening into a wide,
grassy clearing.
At its center stood a two-story stone house, gray and imposing.
Two chimneys rose from the slate roof, and white-framed windows lined both floors.
The house was beautiful—yet eerily so.
As the car pulled up, the front door opened.
An elderly woman stepped out, followed by a gray-and-white husky.
Aunt Agatha—their father's sister, who had raised them since he left.
Sturdy and slightly plump, she wore a faded red flannel shirt over a gray undershirt and
loose, worn-out jeans.
Her brown hair, the same shade as Thomas's, hung untamed to her shoulders.
The husky, Cooper, dashed toward the car, tail wagging excitedly.
Marlon knelt to greet him.
"Hey Coop," he murmured, scratching the dog's cheeks.
Aunt Agatha approached Thomas, scanning him up and down.
"You boys okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," Thomas replied shortly, unloading gear.
Her eyes then fell on the unconscious woman in the back seat.
"Who the hell is that?" she demanded, shocked.
"Long story, Auntie. We'll explain inside. Starving," Marlon
called from the other side of the car.
Aunt Agatha shot Thomas a questioning look, but he just shrugged and headed inside.
"Get her inside quick, Marlon. Girl's probably freezing," she ordered.
"On it," Marlon said, lifting the woman onto his back again.
Strange...
Cooper should've barked like crazy. But instead, he seems to like her.
A dog's instincts were sharp—why wasn't he reacting to a werewolf?
Inside, the house was warm, filled with aged wooden furniture.
To the right of the entrance was a living room with a red sofa and a central table, family photos lining the walls.
To the left, an open kitchen and dining area with six chairs.
Sky-blue wallpaper covered the walls.
Aunt Agatha followed Marlon, still pestering him about the girl, nearly colliding with Thomas—who was stuffing his face with bread, arms full of food.
She promptly smacked his shoulder.
"How many times I gotta tell you, Thomas?! Wash up before eating!" she scolded.
"Ow! Okay, okay!" Thomas yelped, fleeing with his mouth full.
In Aunt Agatha's room, Marlon laid the woman on the bed, tucking her in up to her neck.
Cooper sniffed at her feet under the blanket.
"You like her, Coop?" Marlon asked, as if expecting an answer.
The dog tilted his head and barked once, almost responding.
Marlon sighed, raising an eyebrow.
"Whatever. Let's eat."
By 11:30 PM, Marlon, Thomas, and Aunt Agatha gathered in the family room—a space with brown leather sofas, a red carpet, and a crackling fireplace.
TV light flickered as Thomas lounged, snacking on chips.
"So that's what went down. This is serious," Aunt Agatha said gravely.
"Yep. No choice, Auntie. Besides, Marlon's totally into her," Thomas teased.
THUD!
Marlon hurled a cushion at Thomas, scattering chips everywhere.
"Hey!" Thomas protested.
Aunt Agatha massaged her temples.
"You realize how screwed we are?" she pressed.
"Gotta keep this quiet. Guild can't know."
"Why not? Let them handle it," Thomas said, picking up fallen chips.
"Auntie's right. More people know, more dangerous for everyone," Marlon said, eyes on his phone.
"Tomorrow I'm calling your father. For now, get some rest," Aunt Agatha said, standing.
"Oh—you cuffed her?"
"Done. Take dad's room tonight," Marlon assured.
"Tranqs'll last till morning."
"Good. And Thomas—turn off the damn TV before bed," she reminded.
"Aye aye, cap'n!" Thomas saluted, ignoring the chips on the floor.
Cooper dozed by the fire as Marlon left for his room.
"Try not to 'accidentally' walk into the wrong room!" Thomas called after him.
Marlon flipped his middle finger on without turning.
Outside, the
full moon glowed.
Inside,
nothing would ever be the same.
------
A frigid, mist-laden morning draped their home in an eerie silence, broken only by the
sudden scream that shattered the stillness.
The sound—piercing, desperate—ripped through the house, jolting everyone awake. It came from Aunt Agatha's room.
Marlon bolted upright in bed, his mind still fogged with sleep. He rubbed his face,
trying to shake off the remnants of drowsiness, then staggered out of his room
on unsteady legs.
As he passed through the living room, he spotted Thomas, who had buried his face into the sofa cushions, pressing a pillow over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise.
Marlon yanked the pillow away.
"How can you still sleep through this racket, Thomas?" he grumbled.
Thomas merely tugged the pillow back, pulling his blanket tighter around himself,
utterly ignoring his brother.
Marlon exhaled sharply and continued down the hall. When he reached the door to Aunt
Agatha's room, he found her peering through the slightly ajar doorway, her face pale but composed.
From inside, the girl's voice rang out again—frantic, furious.
"I know you're out there! Let me go!"
Aunt Agatha turned toward Marlon, relief flickering in her eyes.
"Calm her down, Marlon. I need to get back to the kitchen before the food burns," she said, already retreating, one hand massaging her temple.
"And I have to call your father about… this."
"Why me?" Marlon protested.
Aunt Agatha didn't stop walking.
"Because I have a meal to salvage and a phone call to make. Handle it."
Marlon sighed, staring at the doorknob as if it might bite him. His fingers twitched, and for a bizarre moment, he found himself smoothing down his messy hair—then froze.
What am I doing? He glanced around, half-expecting Thomas or Aunt Agatha to be watching.
Steeling himself, he pushed the door open.
The girl inside whipped her head toward him, her eyes wild. The moment she saw him, she
screamed again, louder this time.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" She yanked at the manacles binding her
wrists to the bedframe, the metal biting into her skin.
Marlon raised his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Then take these off, you pervert!"
"P—pervert?!" Marlon sputtered, his face heating.
"Yes, pervert! Who gave you the right to change my clothes?! Stay back!" She
kicked out as he took a step forward, forcing him to halt.
"W—wait! That wasn't me!" He held his palms up defensively. His gaze flickered to the oversized blouse she wore—one of Aunt Agatha's, rarely used and now hanging
loosely on the girl's frame.
"Then who did?! Why did you kidnap me?!" She curled in on herself, arms wrapping
protectively around her body as if she could disappear into the bed.
From the living room, Thomas's irritated voice cut in. "Hey, keep it down! Some of us
are trying to sleep!"
Marlon ignored him, taking a slow breath. "Listen. We could've thrown you in the
basement or killed you in your sleep. But we didn't." He kept his voicelow, measured. "We just want to talk."
The girl fell silent, studying him with narrowed eyes.
"Then what do you want from me? Where's Danielle?"
"Danielle?" Marlon echoed.
"The human who tried to—" She cut herself off.
"Human?" Marlon pressed.
"Never mind. You wouldn't understand," she snapped. "Did you see a girl when you took me? Or another werewolf chasing me?" The
questions tumbled out in a rush.
Marlon dragged a chair closer and sat, keeping a careful distance. "Slow down.
Let's start over. My name's Marlon." He softened his tone.
"We're hunters. We found you."
At the word hunters, her face drained of color. She pressed back against the headboard, fear flashing in her eyes.
"We're not going to hurt you," Marlon repeated.
"But I do have questions."
"What do you want to know?" she whispered.
Marlon hesitated. Even now, with her disheveled and furious, she was striking—her
sharp features, the defiant set of her jaw. He quickly looked away, clearing his throat.
"First, what's your name?"
"Claire. Claire Fenris."