Chapter Four: Into the Wolves' Den
The days that followed felt like a dream. Ava found herself replaying every word Damien had spoken, trying to grasp a reality that seemed impossible. Werewolves, rogues, and alpha packs—it sounded like something out of a storybook, not something that could walk into her diner at midnight. Yet, here she was, teetering on the brink of a world she barely comprehended.
Her shifts at the diner went on as usual, but she couldn't help but keep an eye on the door, half hoping Damien would come back and half fearing what that might entail. By the fourth night, she realized waiting wasn't enough. If he wasn't going to provide answers, she would seek him out herself.
Ava didn't know much about Damien aside from his first name and his enigmatic aura, but she had caught snippets of conversation from customers—rumors about a mysterious man living on the outskirts of town. It was a slim lead, but it was all she had.
Following the directions from a talkative trucker, she navigated the winding road that led to an abandoned cabin in the woods. The night was eerily silent, the only sounds being her footsteps crunching on the gravel and the occasional hoot of an owl.
As she reached the clearing, the cabin came into sight. It was small and worn, its roof sagging from years of neglect, but a faint light flickered from one of the windows.
Ava paused, suddenly doubting her choice. What if he wasn't there? Even worse, what if he was?
Before she could talk herself out of it, the door creaked open.
"You're quite determined," Damien's deep voice emerged from the shadows.
She halted, her heart racing. "You left so many questions unanswered," she replied, taking a step closer.
"And you traveled all this way for answers?" he inquired, his figure outlined against the faint light.
Ava nodded, straightening her posture. "I don't like being left in the dark."
He moved into the doorway, his golden eyes glimmering in the moonlight. "This isn't just a mystery, Ava. It's a threat. One you'd be wise to steer clear of."
"Maybe I'm not as delicate as you believe," she shot back.
He regarded her for a long moment before stepping aside, inviting her in. "You're putting yourself at greater risk than you realize," he said, his voice a mix of caution and unexpected respect.
---
The cabin was minimal yet practical. A small table near the fireplace was strewn with maps and notes. A well-used couch faced a bookshelf packed with dusty tomes. Ava scanned the room, noticing the weapons—knives, a bow, and a quiver of arrows—propped against the far wall.
"Are you expecting trouble?" she asked, gesturing toward the collection.
"Always," he answered, crossing the room to lean against the table. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything," she replied, locking eyes with him.
Damien sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "You're quite determined, I'll give you that."
"You've already said that," Ava replied with a playful grin.
"Doesn't make it any less true," he muttered, a flicker of amusement breaking through his usual stoicism.
He started to explain, his voice steady yet cautious. He described the balance that werewolves maintained, the laws that governed their kind, and the chaos that rogues brought when they chose to abandon those laws.
"And you?" Ava asked. "Why are you alone? Why don't you have a pack?"
His expression darkened, and for a moment, Ava wished she hadn't asked. "My pack is gone," he said quietly. "Slaughtered by hunters."
Her breath caught in her throat. "Hunters?"
"Humans who know about us and think we're monsters," he replied, his voice tight with emotion. "They don't see the difference between a rogue and an alpha. To them, we're all the same."
Ava's heart ached at the pain in his words. She wanted to say something, anything, to comfort him, but the weight of his loss left her speechless.
"Since then," Damien continued, "I've kept moving. No attachments, no complications."
"Until now," Ava said softly.
He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. "You're the complication I can't ignore."
Her pulse quickened, but before she could respond, a loud howl pierced the night.
Damien stiffened, his head snapping toward the window. "They're here."
Ava's stomach dropped. "Rogues?"
He nodded, picking up a knife from the table. "Stay here."
"Not a chance!" she replied, trailing after him toward the door.
Damien turned, his eyes fierce. "Ava, this isn't a game. If you get hurt—"
"Then I get hurt," she cut in. "But I'm not going to hide while you deal with whatever's out there by yourself."
For a moment, they locked eyes, the tension between them thick. Finally, Damien sighed and shook his head. "You really are stubborn."
"It helps me get through life," she said, offering a small smile.
"Just stay close," he instructed, pushing the door open.
The night air was heavy with tension as they stepped into the clearing. Shadows flickered among the trees, and distant growls echoed in the darkness. Damien's stance shifted, his movements smooth and predatory.
"Whatever happens," he said in a low voice, "don't run. Stay behind me."
Ava nodded, her heart racing as the first rogue stepped out from the shadows. Its eyes glowed red, and its fangs sparkled in the moonlight.
Damien moved forward, his golden eyes f
lashing. "This is my fight," he growled.
But deep down, Ava knew it was their fight now.