Mr. Midnight

Do they look like twilight wolves? No

Do they look like Enid from Wednesday? VERY SIMILAR!!

I wanted them to look scary and similar to the werewolf tales you hear. You know the '7 feet tall, looks like a man but covered in fur with razor sharp teeth' type of myths. Enid is very similar to what I picture them to look like, but their teeth aren't as long as her two upper fangs are.

I thought about twilight wolves while I was deciding how they looked, but found them to be too goofy looking. Plus I like the idea of sticking closer to the werewolf myths.

I do later on in the story go more into detail about them as werewolves: looks, size, when/how they were turned, etc

School is going well! Busier than what I am used to, but I think I'm adjusting well to it. Finals are in a month, so very nerve-wracking, but I have my insane thoughts on werewolf!cod to keep me going!

You loved Valeria once upon a time. She had approached you at a bar one night, and it was like your world had stopped spinning at the sight of her. You couldn't get enough of her, following her like a lost puppy. 

It was for that exact reason that you had ended up in a gilded cage. You were more of a pet for her—entertainment for when her business was too stressful—than a real human being. Your cries to be let go, to go back to your own home, were always ignored. Instead, she would spoil you with gifts and days spent together in bed. 

That's why it felt like a miracle when a military task force caught and sentenced her. You had to hide from them—a place Valeria carved out to keep you safe from those who wished to hurt her—till they did their sweep of the place and rounded up all her accomplices. You knew there were more, but you would be considered a co-conspirator and used against her. Nothing was scarier to you than her, El Sin Nombre. 

You waited hours before you finally emerge from your hiding spot, grabbing as much as you could fit in your bags. They could burn the mansion down, and you wouldn't care the slightest bit. You simply wanted to be as far from her as possible. 

You went so far as to move to a completely different country. You sadly had to use Valeria's blood money, but it meant you were safe and out of reach. You could leave that ugly part of your history behind you. 

It took months to try opening yourself back up to the world again. The thought of Valeria getting out one day or sending someone to keep an eye on you, terrified you to the point of constant paranoia.  

You were just starting to adjust to a normal life free from her, when you were—once again—checking the news in Las Almas for updates on El Sin Nombre, when you say it. 'El Sin Nombre Escapes Prison With the Help of Accomplices'. Your heart dropped into your stomach as your phone slipped from your hand and clattered to the ground. She couldn't be free! Not after all this time! Not after all the progress you made to be normal! 

Your paranoia got worse after seeing that headline, but she never appeared. You had moved to a very populated city to make it harder to find you. You were an ant among a giant colony, impossible to tell you apart from your fellow ants. 

Or so you thought. 

You walked into your office to meet your boss first thing, after he had left you a message saying he was talking to a potential new investor with lots of connections. You weren't sure what to expect when you walked into his office but seeing her was not one of them. 

She didn't look like a jailbird. Her hair was much longer and straightened; nails polished with a black coat. The suit she wore fit her like a glove, made her look irresistible and menacing at the same time. Black, her favorite color, with a white undershirt. The suit came in just the right amount to show off her curves in the best ways. You would think she was trying to dress like an office siren, if you didn't know that siren look was to trick those around her to get to you. She looked like she hadn't spent a second in a high security prison; more like she was getting over an ex by being more successful than them. 

If she wasn't batshit crazy and possessive, you would feel like a flustered idiot with a fat crush on the cool girl in school. Instead, you felt a cold chill down to the bone and all your hairs stood on edge. The dread you were experiencing was crippling, but the way she looked at you like a prize she was about to win made it even worse. 

"Ah Y/n," Your boss stood from his chair, walking over to you and putting his hand on your shoulder. "This is Valeria Garza. She was the investor I was trying to tell you about." He said, rather proudly as he showed the woman off to you like you were both strangers. 

She looked you up and down; you were unsure if she was sizing you up or appeasing you like a fine antique she was debating purchasing. Your heart stuttered in your chest as she finally spoke. "This is the assistant you were talking of? Pretty thing you have." 

Your boss only laughed as he patted your shoulder, but you felt more like you were in a hostage situation, and not your boss's office. "Yes, she is! But she is more than a pretty face! Wouldn't know what to do without her!" 

Your boss pushed you slightly forward, your legs numbly went forward as you felt like you couldn't get enough air in your lungs. She approached you, and in that instant you wanted to flee, but your legs refused to move from their fixed position in front of her. You two stared at each other for what felt like a lifetime. It almost reminded you of all the times you would laze around together before she kidnapped you. Though the difference was you were trying to stand strong and not fall for her like a blind fool this time. 

"I see that, considering how you speak of her." Valeria said, pretending she wasn't reframing from trying to pull you in and kiss you. 

"Y/n, why don't you go get settled in while Valeria and I talk?" You could only numbly nod before slowly walking out the door in a daze. How had she found you? You were extra careful to remain just a nameless face in the void. It took months before you spoke more than a few words to neighbors or colleagues. Yet she found you like she had embedded a GPS into you. Actually, you wouldn't believe that to be out of the realm of possibilites with her. 

You tried to work like it was a regular day, and not like your crazy stalker ex was not more than a few feet from your desk. You kept intensely listening for something—the door to open, a gunshot, anything—but nothing happened for a good hour. 

When she finally left your boss's office, it was while he left to go grab something he meant to get before. She snuck over to lean over you, which made you feel like a sheep under a wolf's wide-open jaws. 

She pushed your hair back to whisper in your ear. "I missed you, Cariño. Had no idea what to do with myself without you. You don't know how lonely prison can be." 

Your heart felt like it was in your throat. Hearing her whisper in your ear, breath fanning your neck, you knew you were doomed. You knew even if she left here today, she would not leave this city without taking you with her.  

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, and she brought your hand up her thigh, to her ass to feel what she was hiding from everyone. Your eyes bugged out of your head at the outline of the gun tucked in the back of her pants. You wanted to scream, to warn your coworkers around you of how dangerous she was, but you knew it would end with their deaths.  

"You tell anyone and I will kill everyone here. Your boss, your coworkers," She stopped, smirking against your skin. "Even that cute girl across the room who keeps looking at you." 

You glanced in the direction of Adeline. She was one of the first people at your job to try to be your friend, inviting you to get drinks after work or hang out on weekends. Even through all your rejections, she kept offering to spend time with you. She was ecstatic the first time you finally agreed to drinks after work. She was practically glued to your side all night long. You had suspicions that she had a crush on you, but you couldn't move past the things you went through because of Valeria. 

Adeline looked back at her computer like she got caught staring at something she shouldn't have. You know you look like Valeria is having you feel her up and doing nothing to stop her advances. If only you could warn her that the ex, you were so secretive about, was the crazy bitch behind you. 

"Don't make me have to kill her," Valeria whispers as she pouts into your skin like the thought truly saddens her. "She’s cute, but we both know she is not your type." 

You can't help the way you duck your head down. You know she is right, Adeline was pretty, sweet, safe. Yet you loved the dangerous aura that seemed to encompass Valeria wherever she went, almost like it was melded to her being. If only you realized what it meant sooner. 

"You don't have to do this. We can go our separate ways. We don't-" You tried to quietly beg her. Plead for her to leave you and your colleagues alone, but she cut you off before you finish. 

"Yes, I do, Mi Corazón. You belong to me, always have. I only want what's mine." She says like it is so easy to fall for her again. To fall back into her embrace once more. 

"I don't belong to you." You try to argue back. You try to use that backbone you were starting to develop. 

"You always did. Do you not remember? I watched you for a long time before we met. You were mine since the moment I saw you, I made sure of that." Valeria's tone had gone from light and happy, to annoyed and on the verge of snapping. "Should I remind you of the lengths I will go to just to keep what is mine?" 

You squeezed onto her hand hard as her hand had let go of yours to reach for her gun. She grinned viciously like the cat that got the canary. She removed her hand from the gun and stood fully up right before addressing you once more. "Make the right choice." 

It felt like a fever dream, one moment she was here and the next she was gone. You would almost believe you were having some type of PTSD episode if Adeline wasn't trying to avoid your gaze.  

You took a moment to breathe; you could flee the country again, but it would only be a matter of time until she found you again. Going back to her wasn't an option. You would be back in the pretty cage you had worked so hard to escape from. What could you do? You hated the thought of starting over again. 

Then a thought hit you; what if you didn’t have to? How do you get rid of someone who won’t leave you alone, but is a wanted criminal? You kill them. 

You had bought a Glock, after getting your license two months after escaping Valeria. You couldn’t sleep well with the thought of her getting out and coming for you. The thought of being helpless caused you to sleep for only a few hours a night.  

Not long after your confrontation, you had a plan just in time to ask your boss to let you run home to quickly grab some files you forgot. He was too distracted by Valeria to truly care you were leaving not even two hours into the workday. Not that you would be returning today till the bitch was dead. 

You knew you had a small window to get home and prepare before she realized you were gone. She would rather chase you down over drawing unnecessary attention when it came to you. Too much attention made it harder to get both of you back home or wherever she was going to take you. 

It wasn’t long till she was here, an hour at most when the knock finally came. You sat on your bed. Watching, waiting. Gun in hand as you let her break into your apartment the way she did before. 

The doorknob to your bedroom turned not even a few minutes later. Flashes of the night you sealed yourself in your apartment after finding out what she did. The stalking, killing your ex, stealing your medical records. All the things she did to keep you close to her. It was time to finally end this once and for all. 

You flicked off the safety, begged your hands to not shake, and raised the gun once the door was open enough to start to see her. When she saw you holding the gun, she grinned like the Cheshire Cat. You would think she was amused by the fact you were pointing a gun at her like it was some sick game.  

“That’s cute, Chiquita. Why don’t you put the toy down, hm?” She said, condescension laced in her words. The words only made the anger in you boil harder as you stared her down. 

Her smile dropped, the icy stare she would give others now directed at you. The look made you want to back out, plead for mercy, but you couldn’t. The cycle would repeat, and you would never be free from her. 

She walked slowly towards you, your bastard hands started to tremble, and you did your best to swallow down your nerves. She reached for your gun, which caused you to tighten your hold on it without accidentally squeezing the trigger. She didn’t take it though, instead she pressed it hard against her chest.  

Your brain was blank with what she said to you. “Go on. Pull the trigger.” 

She couldn’t be serious! You were threatening to shoot her and she encouraged it?! Had prison made her insane since you last saw each other? Did she always have this many screws loose?  

You started to hyperventilate at the realization that you couldn’t do it. You wanted her out of your life bad enough that you wanted to kill her, but faced with the reality of doing it, you froze. If you killed her, you would be no better than her. A murderer. 

Valeria slowly lowered your gun from her chest, and she put your safety back on while you trembled in fear of what you almost did. You couldn’t believe you tried to kill her. You expected her to go ballistic on you, but she did the opposite. She crouched down in front of you and held your face in her hands.  

“Everything is good, Mi Amor. So proud of my girl.” She practically purred at you. She stroked your check as she kissed you like she missed you. Your body kissed her back on instinct. Maybe you did miss her more than you hated her. 

You thought the pain killers would have knocked you out as soon as you hit the mattress, but your brain refuses to shut off. Every noise makes you jump, you think you see things in the shadows, and you can’t get the aching feeling of being alone to go away.  

You can hear the tv from the living room from how close to the stairs your room is. You can hear the laughter, can imagine the teasing, the kisses shared between them. What is wrong with you today? You never thought this intensely about someone else’s romantic relationships before. Stockholm syndrome doesn’t kick in the first 24 hours of captivity, though it doesn’t explain your fascination with these men. Is it because they’re werewolves? is it because they were showing more care of your well-being then- 

Focus! 

You glance at the window for a long moment, a single crazy idea crossing your brain. You hobble over and stare down at the ground, plotting, strategizing. The fall will hurt, maybe pop a stitch, but you will be less exhausted, and ready to collapse, than taking the stairs. The biggest drawback was the potential of breaking something else and making escape impossible. Could you ever leave at that point? 

You are too drowsy to try it today. You would end up half conscious and stumble face first into a tree with your luck. Tomorrow maybe, if you skip the pain killers to stay coherent. 

***** 

The pills take ages to kick in, but they hit hard once they took affect. You were in and out of it most of the day and into the night. Only awake for necessities, the boys made sure of it. You always had something to drink on the nightstand and Kyle made sure you ate at least half a plate before he allowed you to rest some more. 

The pain killers from dinner waned around midnight, meant you were wide awake in total darkness. There is no sound of the men moving around, probably still stick to their old military routine and don’t stay up late. Perfect! You could test the fall from your window.  

You have a vague memory of being told to lie flat on your back, while protecting your neck and head with your hands in the event of an elevator crash. You hope that same logic applies to jumping out a second story window. Time to test the theory, you guess. 

As soon as the window is open and you figure out how to pop the screen out, your nerves slam into you. You were crazy for thinking this was a good idea! You could break your back! But what was worse, staying here and potentially never being let go or jumping out of a window like a lunatic? 

Your brain takes all of three seconds to answer that; lunatic option it is. 

Trying to fit yourself through the window without causing yourself more pain was like fitting a square in a circle hole. You are unable to figure out a way through without pulling on the healing muscles in your side. 

You were ready to give up, exhaustion and pain starting to become intolerable, when you give it one last chance. Putting your injured side on the sill first, breathing for a few minutes to calm the pain, then putting the rest of your lower body out the window and finally slowly getting the top half of you out. 

You stare down at the ground—holding on to the sides of the window for dear life—the drop seems endless, like a void ready and waiting to swallow you whole. Your heart was in your throat as you try to breathe through the panic, not that it was helping. You realize you will have to push off the window quickly or you will never commit yourself to go through with this idiotic plan. 

3. 

2. 

1. 

Push. 

You thought the fall would last longer, feel more like you were floating in the air as your life flashed before your eyes. Instead, it was like one minute you were looking down at the ground and the next, you were looking up at the stars trying to peak through the curtain of clouds. 

You wanted to scream as the pain bloomed throughout your body, but you had no breath, and you would wake the werewolves if you did. You slapped your hand over your mouth while tears stung your eyes and your mouth opened in a silent scream.  

This truly was the worst plan you could have thought of. You hurt worse than before—you doubted cushioning your head actually helped as your head is burst with pain—and still had no idea where this house was or even what direction was north. You could possibly stumble around in the woods for days and never find civilization again.  

Was it really so bad to stay? It’s not like they treated you horribly. Sure, it was awful to not be allowed to make your own decisions, but what they had done was keep you safe and make sure you rested. Were you just dramatic? 

The gnawing thoughts of crying out for them to rescue you is becoming all consuming. It’s too bad you are too damn stubborn; you were going to find a way home or die trying. They were not going to be your safety net to fall back on because you regret your decision.  

You have to slowly work your body into standing up, the pain intensifying every time you move. It felt as though someone had shoved razor blades inside you and every time you moved, the blades would cut you up inside. You need to keep taking multiple breaks to breathe through the pain before continuing. 

Once finally standing, you realize blood was starting to soak into your shirt, the bandages barely doing anything to stem the flow. It is fine, you will be fine, don’t freak out. You will get to a road or neighbor’s house and get some medical attention. But you must start moving. 

Your walk is slow, your body wants to collapse, but you refuse to let it. You stumble to the ground for the first few steps, muffling screams even though it feels like you are pulling apart your own muscles every time you fall. Once across the clearing the house rests in, you use trees to help bear some of your weight as you push through.  

After a few minutes of walking, you can’t shake the feeling of unease, like something was watching you. Keeping you in its line of sight until it finds the perfect moment to strike. You throw glances over your shoulder—looking, searching—but ultimately finding nothing.  

The feeling grows worse by how eerie it is to not hear any animals, or even bugs, making noise. Like they share your same fear and think being quiet will make the thing go away. All you can hear is the sounds of your hastily thrown on shoes and the leaves and branches that crunch under your feet. The sounds making you think you can hear steps mimicking your pace, trying to hide its presence from you. You think that every time you stop abruptly, it will take an extra step after you, not expecting the change in movement. You never hear it when you try.  

Trying to placate yourself that it was just the sound of your steps bouncing off the trees and that the quiet stillness was frazzling your nerves. Despite your fears, you feel you are making good progress; not as quick as you can go, but as good as you can considering the circumstance. Your body is screaming for a break, deciding to be lenient to yourself and lean against a tree. The blood stain on your shirt was getting worse, starting to drip down to your pants. You worry you will bleed out before you can find help, but that is irrational. Right? Humans have a lot of blood, you might need a blood transfusion once you arrive at a hospital, but you can risk bleeding some more. 

You can still only hear the sounds you make. Still, something was off. Closing your eyes to hone in to whatever the animals hear that was making them so silent. The quiet stretches on as you listen closely, nothing but your harsh panting audible. 

You sigh, opening your eyes to look forward to plan the next part of your journey, trying to see where to go to avoid the rougher terrain you had seen ahead. Though your vision is obstructed by a ginormous wolf that stares back at you; it’s fur black as night but with white around its face where you think the skull underneath would look like. White where there would be bone, black where tissue, cartilage, and ligaments would be. The sight tearing a scream from your throat; your legs getting twisted up in the roots of the tree as you try to quickly back away from it, causing you to tumble to the ground. You scramble back on hands and feet quickly, before flipping over to hands and knees to get back on your feet. You stop abruptly at the sight of boots in front of your face. 

You gasp, the fear and terror dropping into the pit of your stomach. You don’t want to look up, already knowing who will be standing over you. Your mind tells you that closing your eyes will make them disappear, like a figment of your imagination, but you know it is illogical. Nothing can save you here. 

John wanted to sigh in annoyance, be angry that you would do something this absurd. He truly isn’t surprised; his boys had, sadly, done dumber things to get out of being bedridden. Though jumping out of a window is a first.  

Simon shifts from paw to paw behind your trembling form, watching like a hawk for any sudden movements he deems as fleeing. His amazing hunting and stalking skills still shining through even now. John knows he could have found you just fine by himself, due to the small blood trail you left in your wake, but Simon hasn’t had a good hunt in ages, and he was just itching for John to ask for his assistance. 

Your slow movements of sitting back on your heals to look up at John is what makes his gaze flick back to you. You look at him with detest, like he slaughtered your whole family in front of you and was taking you as his prize. Such a stubborn pup. 

“Done yet?” He asks, pretending he doesn’t know you won’t attempt this again, spite fueling your drive to repeat the same action regardless of consequences.  

“No.” You say obdurately. John has to suppress his laugh at your bullheadedness. They will have their hands full trying to keep you inside the house. He won’t admit it is a small bit fun to have a new pup who is this stubborn, he hasn’t had to wrestle one of his boys this hard in a long time. 

John crouches to your height, leveling you with the gaze of a disappointed father. “Since you want to act like an unruly pup, I’ll treat you like one. You’re sleeping in our room tonight and one of us must be with you at all times.” 

John sees how your defiance warps into fear and anger. All wind leaving your sails as you try not to give into the part of your mind telling you to beg to free yourself from this predicament. Not that it will help you.  

He scoops you up into his arms, orders given and time to return to base. He has to grip you tight as you start to thrash in his hold and curse at him, saying how you refuse to sleep in a bed full of kidnappers and that you will take your chances with the actual wolves. 

John let’s you have your fit—get your anger out before getting settled for bed for the night—as Simon trots behind the two of you. He had dealt with six pups of various levels of unruliness and learned it’s best to just let them get that fight out. After you’ll be tired, all fight leaving your body and the anger that has a hold on you. It’ll be easier to address your wounds, and you won’t piss someone off because you refuse to sleep out of pure spite. 

By the time they are back to the house, you are trying to muffle the quiet sobs leaving you. The realization that trying to escape werewolves will be impossible if they can locate you that quickly; you will die here. Your body, and that of the man who tried to kill you, will be buried in some shallow grave on this property. Your family and friends never knowing what happened to you. One moment you were there and the next a ghost in the wind. Another missing person poster weathered with age, but ultimately never found. 

All of the others are waiting in the kitchen as you watch the door to escape close behind John. You refuse to look up, want to pretend none of this is happening and that your back home and some nice stranger brought you to your home because they were worried about your safety.  

John is giving orders, you don’t care to listen to them. You can see Simon’s outline stand to his full wolf height through your tears. The black shape stretching from a small mass on the floor to a void nearly reaching the ceiling. You can’t make out more than the dark shape of him as he moves around on two legs, not till he is so close you can smell his breath. You feel a soft pad and coarse fur brush under your right eye, the claws attached to the hand just barely touching your cheek, though the sharpness to them takes your breath away. Not dull like a dogs, but sharp like a cats; you could see how easily they could cut through flesh and the thought terrified you. 

You hide your face in John’s neck, unsettled with Simon and his hovering. He seems to get the idea as he is moving past John and out of your line of sight. You think that will be the end of the weird wolf nonsense for the night. Finally, you will be able to breath a sigh of relief; that is till a deep angry growl makes your entire body freeze on the spot while you cling tightly to John. The asshole only laughs—at what you expect is your misery—unknowing or caring for what caused the growl as long as it isn’t you.  

John couldn’t help the chuckle as he watches Johnny drop Simon’s tail after pulling on it as he passed by. Cheeky twat. But that is the silent rule of the house; if you don’t want your tail pulled, don’t wolf out in the house unless you willingly accept the consequences.  

He rubs your arm, soothing your panic from hearing your first werewolf growl. The growl was not aggressive even though it sounded so. Simon has the deepest growl, which had been mistaken as aggression in the past and not the playful tone it was meant to be. The best example was now, the deep growl is followed by the ever-tiny sway of Simon’s tail that showed he wasn’t annoyed like he pretended to be.  

You will get used to it. All the growling, nipping, rough housing, and aggressive affection that they share between the seven of them. It will take a while for you to learn how they work, but you are clearly smart, you will figure it out. 

John passes you off to Nik, sending his boys off to take care of you while he handles a delicate situation. He waits for you to be back in your room to be assessed for damages, pulling his phone out to call an old friend.  

Long version: I was thinking WAY too hard on how I want their senses to work, how strong they should be, but keep it to where it can also be used as a weakness. I'm going to base a lot of their heightened senses off of dogs as I've been around they basically my whole life.

The way werewolf!ghost team smells is like they can tell your smell is different, but lots of things could change that. Reader is also on pain killers so they already smell different from the first day they got there. The werewolves haven't been around Reader enough to identify what Reader smells like normally, so they just chalk it up to the pain killers or stress.

Now here is where I turn into a freak. I was having a hard time trying to do the breakfast scene for chapter 3 and decided to start writing a dub con scene for fun and that's when I had the idea of looking up a bunch of things regarding dogs and sense of smell. Well, humans have two glands (apocrine sweat glands I believe) which dogs are drawn to smell because it produces a scent based on hormonal changes and stress. It's why dogs like to sniff near your crotch basically. And this was why I came up with the idea that they can't immediately tell your horny. Also because I get to draw out scenes without digging myself a hole that I will have trouble getting out of.

Kyle approaches your good side, helping you once more to stand as you make your way to the stairs. You catch sight of Nik and John talking, but unable to make anything out as Kyle helps you slowly up the stairs and to the bathroom closet to your room. 

You stand awkwardly to the side as Kyle preps the bathroom for you, not wishing you to strain your body.  

It takes Kyle a minute to figure out what to say to you to keep you from wanting to punch him or Nik in the face for helping you bathe. “Don’t take this the wrong way. We’re ex-military, showering together is not weird to us. We’re used to not having privacy. Don’t want you to take this as us trying to be creepy towards you. John means well, he’s not doin’ this to be cruel.” 

Kyle’s gaze flicks to your sitting form next to him once the water has warmed to a comfortable temperature. You look off at the wall in front of you, completely ignoring Kyle’s presence. It unnerves Kyle to see that thousand-mile stare on you, something he has only seen on people who were tortured or on Simon when his PTSD gets bad.  

Kyle is unsure what to say to you to make this shitty situation better. He understands the difficulty of realizing werewolves are real, but not what it is like to forced to be stuck in a house with a pack of them. To have them dictate what you can do and putting you in uncomfortable situations without considering how you will feel.  

But his boys are well meaning. They are rough around the edges but being considered less then human most of their military careers, it makes you distrusting of the world.  

Kyle tries to bring you out of your head by trying to simulate a normal conversation. “If you hate what soaps, creams, and skincare we have, we can get you whatever you need. We have an old friend who supplies us with what we need.” 

You wish you were having a nightmare. Stuck in a house full of FUCKING WEREWOLVES and one of them wants to talk about getting you fucking soaps for a shower. Truly, you have lost your damn mind. 

“Johnny prefers fruity scents, but they’re too harsh for John’s nose. He prefers more subtle smells.” Kyle can see a little flicker of light in your eyes as you start to focus back into what is happening around you. “I can never get them to be consistent with their skincare. They hate to admit they like it, they give me shite just so I do it for them.” 

You smile at the thought. It would be cute if you weren’t being held against your will. Maybe it’s cute because it’s about the most normal thing that has happened since you got here. 

Kyle puffs his chest in pride as you finally show an emotion other than anger and fear.  

“Any smells you fancy?” He tries, testing to see if you will engage with him. 

You glance up, a skeptical look crossing your face, but you do answer, “I don’t like overpowering smells.” 

Relief washes over him at your reply. “Simon’s the same, you’ll probably like his stuff more than mine.” 

He grabs his conditioner and Simon’s, popping Simon’s cap first and extending his arm for you to smell. You watch him for a moment; he can tell you're looking for any possible trickery he is hiding up his sleeve. You come up with nothing and breathe in the light scent of vanilla with a hint of something smokey. Your only reply is a nod as you lean back.  

The process repeats with Kyle’s this time, but this time you crinkle your nose a little before leaning back. His is stronger, spicier, brings back memories of a dear friend who you would always tease for how strong his cologne was. How it would scare off any protentional dates due to it making him smell like he bathed in the cologne.  

You push the memory down, try to ignore the longing feeling in your chest. But your thoughts refuse to be pushed out of your mind. Does he suspect you are gone? Do your other friends? Do they all think you are just super hungover? How long till they worry when you don’t respond? 

Will you even be missed? 

“Dove?” You finally look back to Kyle, the worry plain as day on his face. “That what I have to call you to get you to answer?” 

The confused furrow of your brows and clueless look makes his lips curl in a small smile. “Called your name, you only responded to being called ‘Dove’.” 

You feel a little silly to being called a bird, changing the subject to pretend that nickname didn’t make you feel something different. A lighter feeling, not anger or fear, something similar to a butterfly being caught in your chest. “I like Simon’s more; vanilla is always good.”  

You are saved—not really—by Nikolai returning with towels and someone’s clothes. You would bet money it’s someone’s that is rarely used, and they could care less if they never see again. Especially when it smells like you.  

When Nik practically strips naked, except for his underwear, and gets in the shower, you feel your stomach drop. You shoot a murderous look at Kyle, who only gives you a pitying look before starting to strip himself. 

You had thought that the most they would do to help you shower was wash a spot you couldn’t get with your limited range of motion; you didn’t expect them to do almost all the work for you, only letting you clean spots you refused to let them touch.  

You were ready to commit homicide with Nik’s teasing for you to relax and ‘let the big bad wolves help’. He was lucky to be behind you, or you would have punched him. 

You tried not to stare, you really did. But two gorgeous men in a shower with you to help you bath? You would be a liar to say your face wasn’t on fire while trying to keep your eyes anywhere but their bodies. 

Nikolai was the worst of the two; a loud man who is very touchy was like a death sentence. His hands were everywhere at all times; there was not a time where you couldn’t feel him touching you somehow. His jokes and teasing, to lessen the awkward atmosphere, was giving you horrible ideas. Was he this bad when he was railing his boyfriends into the bed? Was he the one doing the railing or getting railed? 

Kyle makes it worse in his own way. Wanting to do most of the work, acting like an eager puppy looking for praise from its master. Was he this desperate to please in bed? You're sure you must have hit your head yesterday if this was what your thoughts were consisting of. Or it was the pain killers making your brain think of things you would normally not be thinking so intensely about. 

You were exhausted by the time you had finished your shower. The pain killers had finally set in, and you would be lying if you said the feeling of being clean wasn’t adding to it. 

Your breathing was slow as the warmth of the blanket kept you cozy, making you drift in and out as John read his book out loud for you. The hand not holding his book, massaged above your broken ankle, that was resting in his lap, as you doze. You would almost find this moment to be a peaceful and romantic time between lovers; if not for the fact you were kidnapped and kept from escaping.  

You tried to escape once, but you fucked it up. They picked up on your absence too soon, causing Simon to quickly zero in on your location and hunt you down.  

You had expected cruelty from them after the escape. The most they did was scold you, restrict your outside time, and have two always near you at all times. 

Sure, constant supervision was annoying, but there were worst ways to be held hostage. Plus, if you pretended to be very well behaved and remorseful, you could trick them into dropping their guard! 

That was, unfortunately, how you ended up with a broken ankle. Johnny had taken you outside for some fresh air; Kyle had to leave you two for the moment to see what Simon needed help with.  

You had been comfortably sat on a blanket with Johnny, when Kyle had come back to ask for his help. They debated on bringing you back inside while they were busy, but you had pleaded to stay, promising to be good and not leave the blanket while they were gone. They reluctantly let you stay, slipping back into the house after giving you your owed goodbye kisses. 

That moment was your chase. You couldn’t escape yet; they were still too suspicious from last time, but you could scope out the area. It had been months since the escape, and you knew they had done some ‘maintenance’ to ensure there would not be a second attempt. 

You could easily spot the new outside cameras from the blanket. It would be a pain, but you are sure a good distraction could keep them out of the study, where the monitor for the cameras resided. 

There was also a fence that surrounded the property now; that was the goal of being out today. Examine the fence and find a weak point. 

You checked the windows to make sure they didn’t intentionally leave you unattended to see what you would do. Thankfully, the cost was clear. You likely didn’t have much time. The reconnaissance would need to be quick, just a general understanding of the fence, before returning to the blanket. 

You ran across the yard as fast as you could, making it just a few feet before you unexpectedly fell to the ground as a surge of pain burned through your leg. You couldn’t stop yourself from screaming like a banshee as tears streamed down your face. 

The scream had sent the men running to your aid, finding you with your leg stuck in a hole as their poor bird screamed and cried. You yelled to not touch it, fearing the pain being made worse by being moved. John, of course, didn’t listen to your pleas as he had Simon hold you still while he eased your ankle out of the hole. 

You thrashed, screamed, cried, kicked, and begged him to stop as the pain only got worse with even the gentlest of movements. John paid no attention to you as he examined the damage. He would have to risk calling a doctor or your ankle wouldn’t heal right. 

John had to pull some favors to have a doctor come out and not ask any unnecessary questions. It was tedious, but worth it for your health. 

He held you as you wept while waiting for the doctor, saying you had seen some birds on the fence and wanted a closer look at them. John knew; he understood. The dumb bunny thought they could leave their cushy life for the cruel world. He couldn’t have that. 

He truly felt bad for causing you pain, but he couldn’t risk losing his sweet dumb bunny. You truly were spoiled if you thought he would let you walk away without a fight. He needed to have insurance that you could never run away, no matter what you tried. 

Was it mean to have Johnny dig holes around the perimeter of the fence in case you tried to climb it? Yes, he knew that. But his bunny didn’t realize that they would forever struggle in the cruel outside world without them. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something awful happened to you! Could you really blame an old man for trying to take care of his clueless bunny? 

He was making it up to you though, not that you knew. It’s why he stuck so close by your side since you sustained your injury. Making sure you took the painkillers with a full stomach, getting lots of rest, not pushing yourself to walk again, and helping to ease some of the pain the medication couldn’t take away. 

He turned his gaze from his book to the cute bunny who finally drifted off. He smiled proudly down at you, reminiscing on your earlier conversation: how you had woken from a nightmare and cried out his name till he had come to check on you. The way you begged him to comfort you with those sweet, watery doe eyes.  

He had laid down with you, letting the boys handle clean-up for the night. You sobbed to him about your nightmare, tearfully admitting that you feared being alone if they were to let you leave. How you wouldn’t know what to do without their assistance and guidance. That maybe being their sweet, caged birdie wasn’t such a horrible life to live like you thought. 

He is relieved to know that Laswell’s advice on making and playing tapes, that would subconsciously mess with your mind, had worked to get you to stop fighting them.  

He had been very affectionate and lenient since then; allowing you more freedom than you were used to, not that you left one of their sides very often. Most times you were cuddled up with someone or in view where they could keep an eye on you. Not trying to run away or subtly disappear from sight. 

He could see how it made his boys relax. Simon didn’t hunt you down as often because he was worried you would flee if he let you go for even a second. Johnny took you out more, still sticking close to the house, instead of not trusting you to be left outside due to forgetting something. Now, he would leave you, still a bit nervous, only to come back and smile brightly when you hadn’t moved a muscle. Kyle didn’t need to force you to stay asleep when you would go off to bed before them; he now checks on you just to make sure you are sleeping well. 

The slow, careful and precise steps of boots getting closer intentionally gave away Simon’s presence; Likely there to do his normal check ins on you.  

He leaned over the couch, his arm brushing against John as he stared down at your adorable sleeping face. He knows it’s going to take Simon the longest to trust that you aren’t using their feelings to your advantage. He will just have to let you rebuild that trust on your own time. 

Simon had taken your escape personally, practically inconsolable after it had happened. He blamed himself for it. For not being what you wanted and making you feel as if running would be the only way for you to achieve happiness.  

John had done the trap to rebuild your relationship with everyone and it had done what it was supposed to. It’s how he managed this, your sweet attachment without the strings of deception.  

Price removes the hand massaging your ankle, reaching back to cup Simon’s face. He feels the way the bigger man leans into his hand like he is getting a break from holding the world on his shoulders.  

“Don’t think we need the tapes no more. Sweetheart’s been good.” Simon hummed in agreeance with John’s words. Your body language no longer of fear or detachment, but one of needing solace and comfort.  

Simon still held a bit of fear of that night in his heart, but now you would call out for him instead of trying to avoid him. He felt like he fell in love with you all over again as he watched you sleep, safe where he and his boys could take care of you, and where you would always feel at home. 

The lot of you are there for what feels like an eternity. None of you wished to leave even though the boys were still in their gear, which you could imagine was starting to become uncomfortable.  

At the two-hour mark, you force Kyle and Simon to head back to your shared apartment to change. You hadn’t gotten an update on Johnny yet, and you don’t think he will be out of surgery anytime soon.  

They try to fight you on it, but the look in your eye, one of desperation and sadness, stops their complaining rather quickly. They reluctantly leave to change, silently promising to not take long, that way they can return to John and your sides.  

Not much had been said between the four of you as you all just needed to be there for each other; to breathe in a space comprised of just you, like it would make the world stop spinning so quickly for one damn minute.  

Now the other two were gone for the moment, and you needed to know what happened for your own piece of mind. You couldn't be the one out of the loop, especially when it came to one of your boys. But you knew John was avoiding it; the way he refused to look you in the eye gave away his guilt riddled thoughts. You hoped that it just being the two of you would mean you would finally get some answers. 

You watched the other two disappear around the corner, before your gaze snapped to John. He continued to stare down the hallway, doing his best to avoid having to face your probing questions. You both knew he couldn’t avoid it forever; you wouldn’t let him. 

You stepped into his field of vision like you had Simon, forcing him to stare directly at you and unable to avoid your unwavering presence. Looking at you is worse than any mission debrief he has ever done in his entire career. Is it because you're looking at him like your broken and only he knows what to say to put you back together? Or is it because he loves you and he fears you will hate him when you realize the truth? 

“John Price.” The utterance of his name from your lips makes him want to crumble to the ground. Either in fear of your reaction or to beg for your forgiveness, he isn’t quite sure. Though the look in your eyes has changed, masking the empty sad void that fills your mind, replaced with kind and sympathetic eyes that can’t completely hide the heartbreaking sadness that lies beneath. It’s that look that makes him unravel.  

He sighs, trying to get his bearings before he tries to piece everything back together in his mind for you. “We tracked Makarov to a stadium and found a bomb beneath it. Johnny was defusin’ the bomb when Makarov came up behind him and shot him before I could warn him, knockin’ him to the ground. He turned his gun on me and shot me.”  

John held up his hand, keeping you from interrupting as he had intentionally left that part out, and specifically told Laswell not to mention it to you. He continued once he knew you would hold off with the questions. “I’m fine, jus’ graze me. Taken care of.”  

He could see the way it eased your initial panic for his well-being. He should have gotten worse, but Johnny prevented that. Another reason it is John’s fault that his boy is having surgery to remove the bullet from his head. 

The reminder causes him to lose his voice, tears welling up before he can suppress them back down. He can barely get out a broken ‘I’m sorry’ before the sobs take over and everything sets in. He has nothing to hide behind. His captain's status means nothing to you, and he can no longer hide his feelings behind his perfectly curated mask. 

But you don’t let him fall into the dark waters of despair, you're hugging him and telling him ‘It will be ok’ before he can even question if you care enough to comfort him. He knows he shouldn’t think that you will treat him differently now, but this whole situation is making him question everything he has ever known. 

He can’t help the mutters of ‘It’s my fault’, ‘he’s going to die’, and every insecurity bouncing around his head and spilling from his lips. 

“John, you didn’t do this. You didn’t put that bullet in Johnny’s head. You did what you thought was best, the situation was not in your control. We can’t change what happened. Promise me you won’t disappear from our lives because you blame yourself.” He can hear how you start to break towards the end. Even worse, how he can hear the tears in your words in your next sentence. “Fuck. Promise me you won’t leave us.” 

It’s then, as you are both crying and clinging on to each other for dear life, that he makes a silent promise: He won’t ever leave any of you, no matter what happens after today. Whether Johnny lives or dies, he will stay. For you, for his boys, for Johnny. 

It takes a long while before the two of you can fully compose yourselves enough to continue the conversation. John excessively whips at his face, like it will make the remnants of his breakdown disappear if he whips hard enough. Then he realizes he is just stalling, trying to save what little good regards you have for him before he tells you the rest. 

“We both feel after bein’ hit. Makarov was standin’ above me, pinin’ my arm done wit his foot to keep me from my gun. He was sayin’ somethin’ about ‘takin’ somethin’ to hell and never buryin’ your enemies alive’, as he was readyin’ to shoot me. Then, fucking Johnny, wantin’ to be the hero.” His laugh held some bitterness as he remembered thinking of Johnny as his savorer in that moment as he stared down a gun, seconds from dying while thinking of every moment that brought him there. 

Your laugh was sweet yet filled with that wetness that only crying could cause. He looked at your puffy swollen face with remorse, wishing to remove every trace of sadness from ever gracing your presence. Instead, he squeezed your hand in his own, vowing to keep his promise to you. He would stay even if you all hated him for everything. 

“Johnny stabbed Makarov in the shoulder, but Makarov twisted his arm forward, attemptin’ to keep it slightly behind his back. I tried to get back up but he kicked me in the face.” John motioned to the redness on the right half of his face, the rough look of a boot mark if you squinted at it. Now much more prominent hours after the initial hit. “Then next thing I know is his gun went off next to Johnny’s head and he was on the ground, while I screamed as he went down. I could just barely hear the gun fire around me and Simon and Kyle yelling for us. I could only focus on Johnny not moving next to me. 

“Then the anger took over. I grabbed my gun off the ground and went after Makarov and his men, but they disappeared. Kyle had to remind me that we still needed to defuse the bomb as I watched Simon check Johnny for a pulse. We thought he was dead. I had to finish what Johnny and I started for him. I was reporting to Laswell of the threat being neutralized and that we had a KIA, when Johnny finally moved. It was a twitch. Could have been a fluke, if he hadn’t started to spout utter nonsense that was supposed to be words. I yelled at Laswell to get an ambulance and combat medics in the meantime.”  

John couldn't find the words to explain the heli ride back to base. The hell of Johnny's panicked state and incoherent ramblings. How they had to assure him that Makarov was dead, that he wouldn’t stop gripping John’s arm like he was afraid he was hallucinating him being alive. How they did all they could to keep him calm and talking. How it felt like everything hung on the fragile balance of keeping Johnny in the moment and not letting him fall into the feeling of sleep taking over.  

The worst was the medics trying to get John to let go of Johnny’s arm to load him into an ambulance. He had refused to let go of him, to stress Johnny further by feeling alone without his team. Simon had to be the one to rip the two apart, even though it pained him just as much. 

Your hand squeezed John’s own, bringing him out of his haunting memories. It pains him to look at you and only see how broken you are over the whole ordeal. There is nothing he can say to make it better; no empty promises to sooth the aching in your chest. 

Simon and Kyle had been quiet as they listened into the conversation, having finally heard what had happened before they had arrived on the scene. They had kept true to being quick to return, now back but not daring to interrupt you two.  

It eats at them both with the way John takes the responsibility for everything, like he could've controlled the outcome. 

“If only he had been wearing his damn helmet. I shouldn’t have sent him in without it.” John’s words are almost imperceivable; his tone too quiet to give the words any true voice. 

Simon’s hand squeezes at John shoulder, trying to imitate the way he would do it to his team. “Not your fault, sir. Not anyone’s.” 

The first thing you feel as you begin to regain consciousness is the sharp stabbing pain piercing your skull. You believe it was the reason you awoke in the first place, bringing you awareness to how your back feels so stiff and like you fell asleep sitting up as your whole body aches. You don’t remember falling asleep on your couch or in your office chair, then again you can’t really remember the events before you fell asleep either. Maybe you were just still too tired for your brain to piece things together yet. 

That thought is disproven when you try to pull your arms up over your head for a good stretch but are stop by something. You pull your arms up again, but they are stop from even lifting from where they rest. Your eyes shoot open, but your vision is dark, your shifting allows you to realize there is something on your face to obscure your vision. Your breath picks up in frantic pants as you realize that something is VERY wrong. 

The fabric obscuring your vision is ripped off of you causing you to go from not seeing to staring at someone in a skull balaclava. You regret struggling as soon as you woke up as you now are face to face with the person you believe to be your kidnapper. How did he even get you? You were at home making dinner, or at least that is the last thing you can remember. Your mind is still really woozy and out of it. 

You feel your throat close up on you as you start to choke back a sob while tears build up in your eyes. This cannot be happening! What did you do to deserve to be kidnapped and potentially killed tonight?! On Halloween no less! 

The person’s gloved fingers gently brush the tears from your eyes as he gently shoos at you. “No need for that lovely. Bet your pretty head is still out of it, you’re alright.”  

The voice is not one you recognize which just adds to your fear. Were your friends trying to pull a prank on you? Pay some guy to pretend kidnap you? No, they weren’t the type to take a prank to this extreme. 

“P-Please. Please don’t kill me.” You try to hiccup out through sobs. You realize your fear is likely just fueling his ego, but what else were you supposed to do? Lay down and take it?! 

“You behave, nothing bad happens. All you have to do lovely.” He says like it is the simplest thing in the whole world, not like he was the victim in this situation. It both angered and scared you, that he was treating you like you could survive the night if you just did what he said. Was he trying to keep you complacent just so you weren’t a handful to deal with. 

You could hear boots descending the stairs, you didn’t know if you should cry for help or keep your mouth shut. Was the new person also your kidnapper or an accomplice to the one in front of you?  

The red skull that came into view told you all you needed to know, there was two kidnappers and zero chance of you making it out alive.  

You didn’t hold back your sobs now; your body shaking from the force of them as snot and tears streamed down your face as you just cried. You don’t think they will make it quick, tonight will be the worst, and final, night of your life. 

“Ye scare the poor thing already, LT?” The red skull teased as he knelt next to the man to get a better look at you. “He scare ye that bad, bonnie? Make you cry from just looking at you.” 

The teasing from the new man just added to your fear and tears, even as he now joined in to wipe your ever flowing tears away. The new touch making you flinch back in your seat as you shake from the fear of it all. 

“Aww, don’t be like that, lass. Can’ have ye lookin’ like tha when you met Cap.” He says, getting up from the ground to grab a rag, wetting it before giving it to the other man to wipe your face with. “I’ll let Cap know he’s up.” 

Then the man leaves as you get your face clean even though you still cry. Now there was another person to add to the mix! Cap, Red Skull, and LT. Were you going to be a victim in one of those dark web things? Was that why there was this many people wanting to watch you be killed. 

You try once more to plead to LT to let you go, saying how you won’t tell anyone, pretend like this night never happened and it was one big misunderstanding, but it only gets a chuckle from your captor. “Let you walk away now? Not happening, Lovie. Didn’t work this hard to get you. Not like you would get far, those drugs will have you stumbling around like a some pissed numpty.” 

Your failed attempt to be set free makes all hope in you die off. All you can do is sit there and try to beg from him not to kill you. It makes LT sigh as you won’t stop whining or crying. 

“Are ye being hurt right now, love?” He demands, staring you down like you are nothing more than an annoyance as he stops wiping your face down. It does make you think; they haven’t hurt you, but that could quickly change in an instant. 

He stares expectantly at you till you hesitantly answer with a quiet no. He huffs out an annoyed breath as he goes back to wiping your face down, now that you have calmed a little with the realization you aren’t actively being hurt. “Behave. Then you play nicely for a bit before we let you get some rest.” 

You sit quietly, trying to silence your whimpers as to not annoy LT into wanting to hurt you because you are crying too much. He finishes cleaning up your face, getting up to throw away the rag allows you to look around the room. Some unfinished basement with a sink and workshop table full of knives. Definitely a serial killers house if you ever saw one, not that you have till now. 

The man picks up a knife and approaches you, immediately you start begging for him not to stab or cut you, promising to behave if he won’t cut you. You squeeze your eyes shut as the knife is not even a foot from you as you brace for the burn of it being thrusted into you. The only sensation you feel is the tug of the ropes keeping you tied to the chair. You peak your eyes open to watch as your wrist are free from the bindings. 

“Stay.” LT says with a look that keeps you from making even a slight movement. He cuts off a piece of the rope laying on the table, grabbing your wrist rather roughly as he ties them together. “You learn to behave, and these can come off. Misbehave and it goes back on, understood?” 

You quickly nod your head as you look at him with unease. He gives you a look of annoyance as he says, “Use your words, Lovie.” 

You respond with a yes and he leads you up the stairs. The vibe on the new floor is completely different from the previous one. It’s bright and open, you can imagine how beautifully the light would spill in from the windows if it were daytime. He nudges you in the direction of the end of the hall where it turns into a living room, what you find shocks you to your core. John Price, your landlord is sitting in there with a bunch of other men you haven’t seen before. Red Skull has his mask resting on the top of his head, giving you a great view of his face as he kneels next to John. 

The conversation dies off as LT nudges you to stand in the middle of the room so everyone can view you. You can’t help yourself as you are stood in front of the man. “John? What? Why?” You’re a little hysterical as you try to make sense of things, the drugs in your system are just making you more confused and causing one hell of a migraine. 

John rises from his seat to approach you, cupping your face in his hands. He hums as he looks you over, before he speaks. “It’s alright, Sweetheart. You’re safe, my boys won’t do anything as long as you are good to them. Did Simon and Johnny treat you well?” 

You could almost believe he is concerned for you if you had been in a different situation. But here and now? You feel he is doing it just to keep you calm. 

“I want to go home.” You say in a near whine, the tears wanting to surface once more.  

Your beg only gets you cooed at before John is making you sit next to the bear of a man to the left of where he was sitting. “No can do, Sweetheart. Didn’ spend this much time into knowing you to give up now. My boys have been practically feral as they have only been able to watch you through the cameras. You will be good for them, won’ you? Be such a good boy for us?” 

Dread creeps into you as the man pulls you close, letting John retake his seat and pull your legs into his lap. Cameras? What fucking cameras?! John never said a thing about cameras when you moved in. Maybe you don’t want to know, it’s not as important as trying to get yourself out of this place. 

 You can see LT lean against the arm rest of the coach across from you. Watching like one of those guards, maybe that is his role here. You can feel how they all stare, making you want to curl into yourself so they would just stop looking at you like a piece of meat.  

John grabs your chin and makes you turn back to look at him. “You will be good for them, won’t you? Let the boys get their fill for now and then Simon will take you to your room to sleep.” John motions his head to LT. “Then we can work on getting you settled in.” 

Settled in? They wanted to keep you here? Like some kind of pet?! You don’t even have a chance for your sluggish brain to register this new information when John reprimanded Red Skull, who was kneeling next to him. “And Johnny, remember to return the items you and Simon have been stealing, including their underwear. I don’ want to hear no whinin’ about it either.”  

The man has a near feral grin on his face as he stares you down while responding, “Aye, Cap.” 

The worst part? The Scotsmen was still handsome, even though he looked like a dog.  

Long dark brown fur with streaks of copper brown hair throughout his body. The fur going down the back of his neck looked as if it was trying to resemble his mohawk as it was a lot thicker than the rest of his fur. You could spot a patch of fur missing near his left temple, making it unmistakable that it was from a past injury that caused the hairs to not grow back. 

Johnny took slow steps towards you, lowering his head to see you better with the height difference. Johnny easily towered over you in this form, and his slow stride towards you did nothing to quell that fear. It only made him that much scarier and dangerous. 

It felt like something was lodge in your throat as you stared at him, unsure whether to flee or cry out of fear. 

Your attempts to move far away from the predator in front of you was blocked by Kyle, forcing you to stay put and face the beast. 

His warm breath washed over your face as he was eye level to you, staring you down like a true predator. Your body tensing up in preparation to either flee or fight. You wanted to flee. Pain be damned! You were NOT staying another moment in this place! 

You attempted to turn away from him and get your ass back inside, but Kyle refused to free your arm. It made the pain in your shoulder worse as you tried to twist yourself free from his hold. 

You could see the others watching your reaction but making no move to help you out of this situation. It made you irate with anger. They could see your distress but did nothing to end it. 

John stepped outside, the others moving aside to let the man through.  

“Believe me now?” John questioned, not an ounce of sarcasm in his voice. He needed you to understand the predicament you put them in by being here. Needed you to see how serious they were if their secret got out. 

You looked at him, refusing to turn and look at the werewolf in front of you again. You could still feel Johnny looming over you, sniffing around you in interest.  

You gave a simple stiff nod, and then you were free. 

You limped away from everyone with a glare. You don’t give a damn how you get out of this place, but you were going to do it. 

John ushered everyone back inside, getting everyone in their seats at the table as Nikolai dished out plates of food and Johnny disappeared to change back into his clothes. 

You remained near the back door, refusing any help from Kyle. He looked like a kicked puppy when you refused to allow him to help, before going to his own seat at the table. 

You watched as they, rather awkwardly, tried to settle back into their regular routine. You know your angry stare wasn’t putting them at easy, but you could care less.  

“Go. Sit.” John ordered you. You were ready to argue with him that you would rather die than eat at a table full of werewolves, but you could see that he was not going to take your shit. 

You went and sat at the spot Kyle had put you at before, as far from the back door as possible and as far from everyone as you could get. 

You could see the looks of confusion and unease when you took the seat. Nik had only laughed at how you had already claimed your spot. He explained the looks you were getting was because him and John normally sat at the ends of the table.  

A hand was placed on your good shoulder before you could make a move to get up. Nik assured you it was fine for you to sit there and went to take the chair closest to John’s right where they planned to have you sit before. 

Breakfast was awkward. Everyone waited for Johnny to return before they started to eat and the entire time, no one said a word. 

The only good part about it was the food. You had to give Nik and John props; their food was mouthwateringly good, reminding you of just how hungry you were from not eating anything the night before. 

John had a small smile on his face as he watched you devour your plate. A bit of pride warming his chest and some of his worry for your health washing away as he saw your appetite return. 

After breakfast was the worst. John had decided to drop a bombshell on you as the others went about cleaning up as Nik gave you more painkillers, now that you had some food in your system. 

“Kyle and Nikolai will help you shower. Your still covered in dirt from last night and we don’t want that causing an infection.” He had said like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

You stared at him, confused for a moment before trying to vouch for yourself. “I can wash myself just fine. I’m hurt, not broken.” 

“With that stab wound and the bruising starting to show on your shoulder? Not to mention all your other scrapes and bruises. You would be lucky if you could make it all the way back upstairs and to the shower without crying out in pain.” 

“I will be fine.” You said, putting stress behind the word to emphasize it. 

John sighed like a disappointed father. He would let his boys try to prove their point of being ok, just so they will see they need help. But with your wounds? Not a chance in hell. 

“Either you let them help you, or I will take you outside and spray you down with the hose like a dog.” John threatened, though it wasn’t really a threat. He could tell his boys understood it wasn’t as they tried to hide their smiles and stifle their laughs. 

You looked at him with fire burning in your eyes. He is sure if you had the ability to, you would beat his ass for even suggesting such a thing.