Trouble At Silent Walkers Pack

Lucien Clearwater went back to his house that morning. The sight of a man who was covered in bloody clothes with numerous bandages underneath quickly freaked his neighbors out.

Lucien's grim expression did not help his case. He looked like someone who just had a bloody, life-or-death fight at a cliff with someone who was not less fierce than him and won to boot.

As soon as Lucien entered his house and closed the door behind him, he crumbled in a heap of mess right at the door.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. He acted strong, but his wounds were not light. Werewolves healed quickly so the wounds that he inflicted on Gavin must have healed partially.

Not so with the bite and scratch wounds that Gavin gave him. Without a wolf, he was only a werewolf in name. He was unable to transform, and his recovery process was no different from a normal human being's.

Lucien groaned as he dragged himself up from the floor only to collapse on a nearby sofa, staining it with the blood that seeped through the bandages. Lucien sighed in his heart. It took him an hour of rest before he had enough energy to drag himself to the bathroom to clean himself and re-dress his wounds.

The man soaked inside a tub filled with warm water to loosen the bandages around his body. The water quickly turned red, a ghastly sight to anyone who did not know the full story. Not long after Lucien was done with bathing and re-bandaging himself, his phone started to ring.

Lucien gingerly supported himself on the walls while walking toward his bedroom. The phone dropped to the carpeted floor just when Lucien opened the bedroom door. The man sighed. He sat on his bed and bent to pick up the phone.

It was one of his colleagues at the art college, Mark Young.

"Hey, Mark."

The voice on the other side sounded relieved but also surprised. "Lucien, thank God. I have called you ten times since last night! What is happening? Are you alright? Are you coming to the college?"

Lucien rubbed between his eyebrows. "No, Mark. I am feeling unwell. I cannot come today."

"Is that so? Then please rest for the day. Get well soon!"

"Um, thank you."

Lucien ended the conversation and saw a lot of notifications on his phone. Ten missed calls from Mark, two missed calls from an unknown number, twelve missed calls, and a wall of messages from his twin sister, Annalynne.

While Lucien was contemplating to call Annalynne or to read her messages first, Annalynne called.

"Big Brother," she sobbed into the phone. "We lost the fight. Our Alpha has died during the battle."

Lucien closed his eyes and leaned against the headboard of his bed.

He knew that this would happen. And it was unfortunately inevitable. The Silent Walkers Pack declined a lot since seven years ago. There had been some recurring conflicts with the Night Prowler Pack for a few months. It culminated in an official war between the two packs.

As much as Lucien hated to admit it, the Silent Walkers Pack was no longer the big pack it used to be. Unfortunately, the reigning Alpha refused to embrace humility and asked the Alpha of Night Prowler Pack for a peaceful end to the disputes. When Lucien heard that there would be war, he knew that the Silent Walkers Pack would lose.

"Anna, how is everyone? Are there many casualties?"

"Only the Alpha died... and... and... the Alpha of Night Prowler Pack has demanded to see you."

The Alpha of the Night Prowler Pack. Kinnon Youngshaper. The two missed calls from an unknown number. It was him.

"Is he... there?"

"Yes... the Night Prowler Pack has not left. The Alpha is waiting for you to settle the issues between the two packs..."

"Fine," Lucien said while rubbing against his bandaged arm absent-mindedly. "I will come back and meet him within the week."

The sooner they met, the better. The Silent Walkers Pack House was located in the outskirts of a faraway Blue Hill City, some hundreds of miles away from South Bedford City.

By the time Lucien finished making the travel arrangements, it was already evening time. Lucien went to the kitchen to see what he could devour for dinner. He had only taken a few steps away from the bed when he was hit with an excruciating pain that spread from his chest to his whole body.

It was as if someone had stabbed a knife into his heart and given it a twist. Lucien cried from the immense pain. There was no new wound on his body, but it hurt more than all the wounds that Gavin inflicted on him.

Lucien rolled around on the carpeted floor. Crying. Begging for the pain to stop. But it was of no use. It was not the first time he had had this kind of attack. He knew very well what triggered it. After what felt like forever, Lucien passed out from the agony and lay motionless on the floor.

The man woke up hours later. The extreme pain had disappeared. Only the pain from the physical wounds remained. Some of them had started to bleed again because he tossed and turned in the evening.

Lucien sat up and leaned his head against his raised knee. His tears started to flow incessantly, running down his cheeks like tiny rivers. Lucien hated the tears more than the pain. It always made him feel so vulnerable, so weak. Lucien hated to be weak.

A certain person's face kept floating to his head. Lucien stubbornly refused to call his name. He did not eat dinner that night and went straight to bed.

The next morning, Lucien woke up early and tended to his wounds. He already used up his storage of medicine and bandages so he had to get new supplies. And then he had to go to the train station to catch the train to the Blue Hill City.

Lucien went out of the house with a shopping list. He was so immersed in his list that he almost bumped into the man who was waiting outside of his house. The man's familiar sandalwood scent mixed with sea salt alerted Lucien of his presence before Lucien even saw his pair of boots.

Ronan Silverback leaned lazily against a maple tree trunk, fixing Lucien's form with his sharp eyes.

"Yo."