Chapter 8: The Lycan

Michael’s POV

She was driving me insane. Since greeting me in the woods earlier, we had been locked in my office arguing. We had sat here for forty-five minutes disagreeing on a color scheme. Jane wanted a salmon color and I refused. The color reminded me of vomit and that was not an image I wanted tied to my wedding.

"I'm not changing the color, Michael. Why can't you just sit there and nod like a normal fiancé?" Jane asked furiously.

The thought made me laugh. A normal fiancé. Nothing about this arrangement was normal yet she expected me to sit and agree with every decision she made. She was so used to her life revolving around her she expected the real world to bend to her command.

"Are you seriously laughing right now?"

This entire process was amusing. We were arguing over a wedding in which we married a spouse we didn't care for. Did the details of the wedding even matter? My laugh was uncontrollable now. Tears began to stream down my face the angrier she got. This wedding meant nothing. The alliance needed us to be wed, but we could've just hired an official and got it over with.

The room filled with a mixture of my laughter and her phone's ringtone. She groans before grabbing her phone and storming out of my office. This was the first time since getting here that I had a moment to myself. I grab the phone out of my pocket, turning it on. Hopefully, I had enough time to return Havana's call. The phone turned on and a notification of Havana's missed call appears along with a voicemail. Clicking the voicemail, I hold the phone to my ear.

"Hi, sorry for calling. I didn't know who else to call. My name is Claire and I'm Havana's roommate. There's been an accident. We're at Memorial Hospital. Please hurry." The unfamiliar voice said.

The call ended, but not before hearing the sound of the ambulance in the background. Sh*t, the voicemail was from three hours ago. The door opened and Jane walked back in.

"Where were we?" She asked.

Her mood had calmed down significantly, but now I was on edge. I had to get to that hospital and fast. Question after question swirled through my mind and my heart sunk deeper and deeper. What happened when she left earlier that day?

"Can we pick this up later?” I found myself asking.

My legs were already rising from the chair. My hands moved to my jacket and put it on. Regardless of her answer, I was going. Havana needed me. I should have answered when I saw her name. Jane ran her fingers through her black hair, pushing the loose strands from her face.

"I suppose we both deserve a break. Let's regroup in about an hour or so?" She suggested.

An hour wasn't nearly enough time to spend with Havana or find out what happened from Claire. I needed to buy myself more time. I couldn't trust Jane with the truth. She was the reason I didn't know about this sooner.

"I'm going to see my mom. We can regroup when I get back."

She nods. I half expected her to beg to join, but her lack of interest was needed at this time. This was one of the few times she didn't argue back.

Grabbing a random set of keys from my desk, I leave the office. Walking to the garage, I was careful not to seem in a hurry despite the haste that I felt. The keys that I had grabbed at random had been for a Jeep Wrangler. Starting the engine I press Havana's name. Dear God, please let her be alive.

"Hello, Michael," the feminine voice says on the other end.

The voice sounded the same as the voicemail, Claire, I recalled her name being. How had she known to call me? Had Havana told her about us? Is that how she knew me?

"Claire, right? Listen, I just got your message and I'm on my way.” A sigh sounds on the other end. I hope it was of relief.

"I didn't know who else to call," she explains. Her voice cracked; she was crying.

The sound of her tears made me drive faster. There was a reason she was crying and it most likely had to do with Havana’s current condition.

"Don't worry, I'm on the way. Everything's going to be fine," I promised.

I hung up the phone, placing both my hands on the steering wheel. My heart raced after each block I passed. I couldn't get to the hospital, to Havana, fast enough.

Pulling up to the hospital, I quickly parked and ran inside. Looking around, I didn't know where to go or what to do. Would they just let me in? What was Havana's last name? Doctors brushed past me, and nurses scattered around. Who the hell was supposed to help me?

"Excuse me, I need help. My friend Havana was admitted here. Where is she?" I asked aloud. Someone was bound to help me. They had to. "Please, I just need to make sure she's okay.”

No one seemed to hear me or care what I had to say. Is this how human hospitals worked? Those who were paid to save lives ignored those who needed to be saved?

A low voice cleared behind me. There was a small woman, around Havana’s height. She had dark brown hair that was pulled back into a messy bun. It was obvious that she was of Hispanic descent. Her face was both foreign and familiar to me.

"Michael, right?" She asked. She played with her fingers and stared at me. Her eyes were puffy and full of fear and hurt. She had been crying. Was this Claire? "I didn't know what else to or who else to call," she says nervously.

Her face appeared in my head beside Havana on a picture posted on Havana’s wall in her bedroom. They were friends, there were several pictures of the two together on the walls and throughout the apartment.

"What happened?" I asked.

She looked around hesitantly before taking my hands and walking me to the blue plastic chairs in the waiting room. Her silence was scaring me. Why couldn't she just tell me what happened and if Havana was okay?

"Tell me," I demanded.

For my sanity and the safety of every human in this hospital, I needed to know. Havana meant more to me than anything, and her safety was a priority.

"I'll tell you everything, but you need to keep calm. She told me you're a wolf, and I can trust you. That you're different from the others,” she explained.

Others? What other wolves had they known? Why would they want to hurt Havana of all people? Were they after Claire and Havana became collateral? Questions piled into my brain as theoretical answers formed. Had Jane caused this to happen somehow? I could feel my anger rising, someone had to pay. The words were stuck in my throat, and all I could do was listen to what Claire had to say. She looked briefly into my eyes before continuing.

"Havana doesn't have any family. She's been in and out of foster homes her whole life. All she has is me, Kaden, and now you.” A small smile appears on her face as she refers to me.

"Why am I here instead of him?"

The question was of general curiosity. Had the previous showdown between the two escalated her to the hospital? Claire didn’t need to answer my question. Her face had told me everything I needed to know.

"Is she safe here? Have you called the police?" I stood from the chair ready to notify anybody, everybody.

Claire's hands grabbed at my arm, pulling me back to the seat. What was she doing? Didn’t she know I was trying to protect Havana?

"She's safe for now. I gave them a fake name so if he calls looking for her, they'll deny admitting anyone named Havana James. If I called the cops Havana would never forgive me. They have the worst relationship, but he's all she knows." Claire explains.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? He's killing her," I whispered, trying to contain myself from yelling.

"You think I don't know that? That's why I stayed her roommate after college. I couldn't let him live with her...be alone with her. I fear for her life every time they're alone, but Havana doesn't want to hear it. I hate him, but the best way to keep her safe is to keep close to her."

The more she spoke the angrier I became. Havana was too smart to be stuck in this type of relationship and not try to leave. Why was she accepting this? Was she too afraid to leave? Why hadn't she told me this the night before? While she cried in my embrace she could have confessed her fears.

"Havana made me promise not to tell anyone, but I need your help. Kaden is a lycan. I'm not sure what that means, but Havana tells me it makes him like you."

The shock was an understatement, but I scoff immediately. A lycan was nothing like a werewolf -- they didn't deserve to be in the same category as us. They were animalistic savages and a disgrace to our kind. They came from wolf descent but could not shift.

"They're nothing like us, but they do come from my world,” I confess.

"I just need your help keeping her alive. She's like a sister to me, and I refuse to lose her to that a**hole.”

Her words were firm. I had her wrong at the start of our conversation. Part of me had blamed her for not keeping Havana safe, but she was doing her best. She had gone out on a limb and called me for help.

"Can I count on you to help?"

The question in my mind didn't need an answer. Claire had my help in whatever she needed when it came to Havana. She didn't just want my help, she needed it. That was clear from the desperation in her words.

"You can count on me. Whatever you need I'm there. I promise."

My word meant everything when it came to Havana. I would do everything in my power to protect her.

Most importantly, I was going to kill Kaden for doing this to her.