I could feel the wave of surprise and uncertainty hit me before the scent did. It was more than just the cold night air, the scent of rain-soaked earth, and the dread lingering in my mind. No, this was something entirely different. The musky scent of wolf cut through it all. Werewolves. Not of my pack, not my brothers, but enemies in the guise of allies.
"Get behind me, Cecile," I said.
I pulled Cecile closer to me instinctively, my hand reaching out and wrapping around her waist protectively. She gasped slightly in surprise, her hands clutching my shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt. Her pulse fluttered like a terrified bird beneath my touch, a stark contrast to the way she was trying to keep her face calm and composed. It was as if she knew how fear could draw predators in.
The night had been ordinary until now, the moon casting long shadows over the rundown brick and mortar of my secret hideout.
The fear in the air was pungent, almost metallic, threatening to choke the life out of the room. As much as I hated it, I could tell it wasn't just Cecile's fear. The dread curling in my stomach was mine, too. I had never thought my secret hideout, a place where I'd brought a human, would be compromised. The only question was: how did they find us?
Cecile's grip on my shoulder tightened, and I glanced down at her, trying to offer what little reassurance I could. Her wide eyes were a clear mirror of the fear gnawing at her soul, the whites standing out starkly against the dim light.
Then, they emerged from the shadows - three figures, sleek and swift, their movements fluid, reminiscent of lethal predators.
They were dressed like ninjas, their outfits a stark contrast against the pale glow of the moon. Black masks covered their faces, leaving only their glinting, predatory eyes exposed.
Their stance was imposing, bodies poised for an attack, hands poised to pull out hidden weapons at any moment.
Their garbs were an odd mixture of modern functionality and ancient ritual-loose trousers tucked into heavy, durable boots, and fitted jackets with complex patterns and symbols in a language long forgotten. Their bodies were silent, movements noiseless as the dead of night.
The hoods over their heads shadowed their faces, their eyes gleaming with a chilling menace. I could see their arrogance, their smug satisfaction of having caught us unawares.
Under normal circumstances, I would have let the beast within me come to the surface. I could have torn them apart with little effort, but Cecile didn't know what I was. My cover was essential. Besides, revealing my true nature would bring an unnecessary complication to an already complicated situation.
Instead, I reached behind me, my hand closing around the hilt of a bread knife lying on the kitchen counter. Holding it with an ease that spoke of countless battles, I positioned myself between Cecile and our adversaries, my human façade a smokescreen to my supernatural abilities.
It wasn't much, but it was better than being unarmed. The cool, worn-out grip of the knife offered an illusion of control, a small respite from the heart-gripping fear that the situation warranted.
Cecile looked up at me, her face a mixture of fear and confusion. "Tristan," she whispered, the name almost getting lost in the escalating tension.
I gave her a curt nod, forcing my fear down and allowing my instincts to take over. If we were going to survive this, I had to stay focused. I had to keep her safe.
The first attacker lunged at us, and I met him with the knife, the clash of our weapons echoing in the quiet room. I managed to keep him at bay, but I knew it was a temporary ceasefire. There were more of them, and I was vastly outnumbered.
As we dueled, their leader, a large figure hidden beneath a cloak, remained still. He watched us, his stance relaxed, but his gaze never left us. The calm amidst the chaos was eerie and sent chills down my spine.
"Enough!" the leader's voice boomed, silencing the chaos. His voice had the authority of someone used to being obeyed.
I kept my stance, the knife held defensively in front of me. Sweat trickled down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I didn't dare to take my gaze off of them.
He stepped forward, pushing his hood back to reveal a face covered with deep, vicious scars.
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw a glimmer of something dark and menacing lurking there. He grinned, a wicked smile that didn't reach his eyes. "We're not here for you, Lord Tristan." He paused, his gaze shifting to Cecile who was still tucked protectively by my side. His voice dropped lower, the malicious intent clear in his tone. "We're here for the lady."
My blood ran cold. The room around us seemed to freeze, the silence thickening. A horrifying realization washed over me. They weren't here for me. They were here for Cecile.