The Girl With Werewolf Blood Chapter 1

I ran down the stairs as screams filled my ears and terror flooded my veins. I sprinted to the front door
of the pack house and flung it open— revealing rogues and pack members everywhere tackling, biting,
ripping, and killing each other. My eyes squeezed shut, and my hands plugged my ears, praying that
this was not real. After taking a few deep breaths I peeled them open again, but nothing has changed,
and I began to panic. With only one thing on my mind, I was now determined to fight with everything I
had.

Sprinting across the open field, no one noticed me; they were too busy fighting, killing. I made my way
through the endless trees searching for my siblings. I don't understand; they should have been in the
pack house with me. How could they have been so foolish to leave?

Hiding behind a thick tree, I heard someone coming near. I peeked out from behind the bark; it was
Stella's wolf.

"Stella!" I harshly called as I motioned for my sister.

Her wolf's eyes went wide when she saw me, filled with pure terror and regret. She shook her head
frantically, and tears slid down her face. All of a sudden another wolf tackled her, teeth ripping into her
throat in a flash.

"Stella! Stella no!" I cried as her lifeless body laid limp on the forest floor. Prying my eyes off her, I
couldn't make myself look for any longer. My sister, she's gone forever.

The wolf that attacked her turned towards me with pure evil and rage in its eyes. With no brake to even
mourn the loss of my siblings, they started running towards me, and I waited for the impact with my
eyes shut. I waited for my death as a weak wolf would, yet it never came.

Taking the chance, I looked to see the wolf that killed my sister now fighting with one of the pack
guards. I didn't think twice and ran deeper into the woods. My sister's cold, dead eyes fogged my brain,



making it impossible to stay focused. What am I supposed to do? How am I expected to tell everyone?
I could barely take the aching pain in my heart as it slowly ate at my soul, but I kept running as tears fell
down my cheeks, staining the dirt beneath my feet.

I came up to more rogues battling and quickly hid behind another tree. With a racing heart, I peeked
out yet again and briefly glanced at the lifeless wolves on the floor. That's until I stopped breathing and
became motionless. Oh, goddess. No, please.

My mother laid on the forest floor slain next to my brother, their bodies ripped to pieces, my eyes stung
with endless salty tears. I wanted to scream; I wanted to go out there and rip every single one of those
damn rogues to pieces. They take my sister, my brother, and my best friend; my mom—my mother!
How dare they do this to me and get away with it! What have I done to deserve this?

My heart jerked, and I couldn't breathe. Why? Why couldn't they take me instead!

I wake up covered in a thin layer of sweat with tears rolling down my flushed cheeks. I have this dream
almost every night. I'm used to the sweat and tears, but the memories will never fade. My brain is
forever tattooed with the images of their dead bodies. Over the past months, I've tried to forget about it
all, but I wouldn't make it that easy for myself.

I peel the covers off my sticky body and head to my bathroom to take a shower. Stripping off my
pajamas, I switch the shower on and step under the downpour. I relax as the hot water streams down
my shaken body, almost as if it's washing away the visuals of my constant dreaming.

I wish I could just forget about the attack, but I can't accept that my family is gone. I found out after the
attack that my father was also killed; his life meaning nothing to his murderer. The pack fell apart after
the loss of their Alpha and Luna, but they will get over it, I never will.

I turn the shower off and dry my dripping body with a white, fluffy towel from the silver rack. I wrap it
around my chilled frame and walk back into my room, glancing at the clock resting on my bedside



table. It is five o'clock in the morning, so I might as well just stay up.

I trudge into my closet and sift through my clothes, scavenging for something comfortable and warm. I
decided on a pair of sweatpants and one of my brother's old t-shirts that I wear constantly; it still smells
like him in some ways.

Heading downstairs and into the kitchen, my stomach rumbles with the desire to be fed. So, giving in, I
open the fridge and grab three eggs from the carton. Turning back around, I have a minor heart attack
as Frank seems to appear out of nowhere, sitting on one of the counter stools. Glaring at the three
eggs now splattered onto the floor, I internally groan.

"Jesus Frank you scared the crap out of me!"

"You're up early." Frank casually ignores my frustration as continues to sip on his coffee. Frank is like
my personal guard; he lives in the pack house with me, so I am not alone. He's been there for me since
the attack and loss of my family, him now being the only family I have left.

"I had a nightmare and decided not to go back to sleep," I explain while cleaning up the mess on the
white tile floor tiredly.


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