Kenzie Hope
I've done a lot of hard things in my life. I sat there as my mother died and watched my father whither to pieces. I watched my father being lowered into the ground while my brother cried. I then dropped out of school to raise my little brother and work full-time. I would say that those are all considerably hard things. I had experienced heartbreak
Nothing was as hard leaving my pack, leaving Kaden.
My heart ached and my wolf howled in sorrow, both breaking at the seams. This heartbreak felt cold. It felt like concrete drying in my chest. This heartbreak was unexpected, as they always are- top of the world one minute and cut down the next. Why is that? Is there something about me that makes me destined for misery?
Brady and I arrived at an old broken down motel around midnight. Running for hours and hours, both in wolf and human form, had exhausted us and we needed a rest. We were far enough ahead of the trackers, that I'm sure Kaden sent, and far enough away from the border that I was sure no one would find us. Also, the scent of rouge filth masked any scent that we produced, making hiding that much easier.
Being old, the motel was run down and falling apart. The mustard yellow paint turned mud brown was peeling off the rusted concrete. Half of the doors were swinging open and closed, too broken to properly close. To make it even worse, there were dead wolves lying throughout the property.
In the center of the abandoned parking lot was a circle of wolves sitting around a small fire. They were laughing until they caught my scent, now they were watching me wearily and occasionally growling. The glares they produced were almost enough to make me want to turn back and run into Kaden's arms, but I knew better than that now.
I only had me to protect what was mine.
I walked up to the men with my head held high; if they smelt the fear on me, they'd kill us. I told Brady to stay back, that I would deal with this, and he listened. The wolves were both amused and threatened by my presence. Amused because what the hell was a she-wolf doing next to their claimed land, threatened because what was an alpha-omega-human blood mix doing. Needless to say they were utterly confused.
"Boys," I started in my most lax authority voice. A couple of them chuckled, while a few growled and the rest stood silent.
"What?" One of the shorter ones asked.
"My brother and I need a place to stay tonight," I stated, not bothering with formalities. A few more laughed this time.
"Oh really?" Another chuckled stalking up on me, obviously eye-raping my body. "It's going to cost you somethin', honey."
I scoffed at his attempted to buy sex from me and waved him off. His buddies laughed at my blatant rejection, but he didn't stop there.
"Oh, c'mon, sweetheart. You know daddy's got the goods." He touched my lower back with his left hand and trailed down to my butt. That's when I lost it.
I grabbed his hand that was getting every closer to my ass, effectively keeping him still, as I brought my knee up to hit him where the sun doesn't shine. While he was bent over in pain, I brought my hands to the back of his head and my knee up the front of his face. After hearing the loud crack of his nose, I swung my foot and swept him off of his feet.
He landed with a thud and immediately the rest of the rouges growled and stalked towards me. I hurt their buddy; they wanted me to pay for it. When it came to fighting, rouges never played by "the rules". They aimed to kill and would do anything to do it.
That's why I wasn't surprised when two rouges held both my arms in place while a few others stalked towards me. The shorted dude who spoke earlier took the first punch at me- right in the sternum. It knocked the wind out of me for a second while I braced for the next one.
I got hit quite a few times, but I was tough and they underestimated me because I was a she-wolf. When they thought I couldn't take anymore, the guys loosened their hold on my arms, that's when I took my chance.
I swung my legs up, putting all my weight into the guys behind me and kicking the guys in front of me. I wasn't as graceful as I thought it would be, because I landed on my butt, but it effectively got all the rouges away from me.
I noticed that one of the guys that was holding me had a knife in his boot and it was conveniently right next to me. How nice, Lexus mumbled in my head, the first time she actually spoke to me since we found out. Grabbing the knife was easy, using it, not so much.
When I stood up, I held it out in front of me, jabbing it at anyone who came close. One wolf dared his luck and lunged at me so skillfully that I didn't even have to do any work; he fell right into the knife. A few others lunged, but I backed off or slashed them. I was actually holding my own and I was very proud of myself.
"That's enough," One guy said as he stood up out of his camping chair. The man had the swagger of someone I don't even want to lock eyes with, let alone cross. His arms were more ink than skin and his brown hair so closely cropped that from a distance I had mistaken him for being bald. When his trajectory set for me I decide to busy myself hiding the knife behind my back. He was the leader of this particular group of rouges and it was terrifying.
No-one gets to be leader without having the morals of a sewer rat. For all their "code" the only one that counts is the most barbaric scum-bag rules. Be loyal or be more savage, that's the way it is. This man, this terrifying looking man, fought his way to the top; he had probably killed more people than I knew and ordered to kill more people than were in my former pack.
I was just about to make a break for it when he smiled at me. It wasn't the kind of smile my co-workers wore to great customers, it was the kind of smile a mother bestows on her child when they help to pick up a friend who has fallen. I faltered. It was not a smile that belonged on his craggy face. Then it hit me. He was proud of me. He was proud that I was able to beat his men. Now, as I stood covered in dirt, sweat, and blood, he clapped me on the shoulder and passed me a bottle of whisky.
"You look like you could use this," He whispered, his Russian accent slipping through his voice.
"Hell yeah I do," I replied, taking a swing.
He nodded his head approvingly before he put his hand on my upper back and said, "You're more than welcome to stay. Anyone, man or woman, who can kick their asses deserves my respect."
"Thank you," I replied and looked over to my brother, nodding at him to follow.
The man led us to what looked like the hotel office, although it was a sharp contrast on the inside than the out. The inside of the motel had a sleek grey laminate flooring that contrasted from the cream-colored walls. There were red accent chairs and a grey couch with red accent pillows. This man was clearly a man a taste.
I expected him to sit down behind his tall desk and question us about our intentions. Instead he had in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the room, making this meeting an informal one. Brady and I sat in front of him on the love seat. Brady looked extremely intimated, probably due to the strong aura that came from this man in waves.
"Jordan Deans." He stuck out his hand as he introduced himself.
"Kenzie and Brady Hope," I replied shaking his hand. His eyebrows furrowed together as he shook my hand, obviously thinking about something. Brady hesitantly shook his hand as well, but not before he thought deeply about it.
"What brings you guys to my parts?" He asked, leaning back. He wasn't asking maliciously, how rouges usually do, but as casual talk.
"Piece of crap pack, couldn't do it anymore," I told him vaguely as I took another gulp of his whisky.
"Understandable," He murmured like he had been through it before. "You are welcome to stay here for as long as you would like. They boys won't bother you anymore; although Mark might be a little pissed off about his balls and nose," He said lightly chuckling. I laughed softly back as well and I knew that Jordan and I were going to be good friends.
"Who cares what that asshole thinks," Brady snorted as I gasped at him.
"Brady Hope, language," I scolded him while slapping the back of his head.
"Ow," He muttered and Jordan and I laughed.
The three of us ended up talking for a while about stupid little things with Jordan and I slowly getting drunker off the whisky and Brady laughing at us. I was surprised that Brady warmed up to Jordan so quickly, but I waved it off considering that Jordan was the type of guy that everyone liked. It was early in the morning, around three o'clock, when Brady fell asleep on my shoulder and I decided it was time for bed.
"I can carry him," Jordan offered as he handed me a key and picked up my little brother. I replied a thanks and followed him out of the office and up a flight of stairs. Surprisingly enough, what I thought was a motel was actually both a hotel and a motel. The outside appearance gave foreigners the vibes of "go away, you might die here", while the inside was completely different.
Jordan stopped in front of a room and nodded at me to open the door. I unlocked it and held it open as he carried my little brother in. The room was nice to say the least and it was more like an apartment than a hotel. I listened as Jordan told me about the room.
There were two floors to it. The upstairs consisted of two bedrooms, each with their own private bathrooms and walk-in closets, while the downstairs consisted of a kitchen, dining room, living room, and a bathroom. It was nicer than my apartment back home.
I placed my bag on the counter of the kitchen after admiring the sleek kitchen as Jordan walked in.
"He's all tucked into the second bedroom," He smiled cheeky.
"Thank you so much," I told him, "What do I owe you for tonight?" I asked upzipping my bag. He placed his hand on mine and zipped the bag back up.
"Nothing," He said, "This is a place to get away from your problems. How can you do that if you have to pay to get rid of them? You are welcome to stay here forever, rent free."
I was flabbergasted. "Thank you," I told him breathlessly.
"Don't worry about, Kenzie. I'll see you in the morning. Breakfast is at nine if you want to eat with the rest." With that, he left the room.
I grabbed my bag, still stunned that the stranger let us stay here without payment. My common sense told me that I would probably pay for it later, but he was such a nice guy that I didn't worry about it.
I went up to my room with my bag, I will admit I stumbled a bit. Once I got to where I was sleeping, I admired the room before going to the bathroom to look at my battle scars. Looking in the mirror, it was a little worse that I thought it was. I had a few scrapes on my face and arms; I was sporting a fat lip and a black eye. The worst of it though was my stomach. It was already black and blue from taking a few to many hits and now that I was looking at it, it hurt a lot more.
I washed my face with cold water in the sink and went back to the room. The scent of pine trees and cinnamon caught my attention so I stopped. Once I realized that I was just his shirts that I had brought along, I pulled one on and cuddled up in bed, wishing for my mate.
I didn't find sleep that night, nor did I for the next week. I seemed to find myself eating less and less each day, my brother becoming increasingly worried about me. I cried endlessly, from missing my mate or the heartbreak, I couldn't tell.
My heartbreak was a grief that comes in waves, grueling, stealing appetite and sleep alike. It was a shard in my guts that never left, though perhaps in time I thought that the edges might. It felt like death just the same as bereavement and in quiet moments it choked the breath from my body and short circuits my mind. What was once whole, shattered; where once was peace is emptiness, echoes of a my mate.