Chapter 2 - Peter

I feel the warm trickle of blood down my chin as I slowly get up from the floor to face my enemy. I can barely see him. My hair is in my eyes, and there seems to be blood everywhere.

I’m also as drunk as a fucking raccoon in a barrel of Jack.

“Say it one more time, motherfucker!”

I hear the mad giggle coming out of my mouth, but I barely associate it with myself. When I clench my fists, my knuckles sting where the flesh has been ripped off from landing hard blows on my opponent.

“You’re a cheat,” I whisper.

“I didn’t quite hear that, you diseased fucking weasel!”

“I said you’re a fucking cheat!” I scream, gathering myself and charging at the seven-foot tower of tattooed muscle wavering in my vision.

I hit him with so much force, I knock him off his feet. We both go sailing over the pool table to land on the filthy floor of the bar and roll around, growling like manic badgers as both of us try to get the advantage.

Eventually, I end up on top and pound him in the face a few times before his mates drag me off him. I struggle to get back to join the fight, but one of them smashes his fist right into my guts above the solar plexus.

I can’t see, or move, or even breathe. Pain shudders through me as I tremble on the floor, waiting for the nerve response to settle down so I can get up and back into the fight.

By the time I can shake off the shock and get up, the tough guys are gone. A growl rises in my throat as I think about tracking them down and making them pay for this.

“Hey… are you okay?” a soft voice asks.

I look over. There’s a girl standing nearby—a server, by the look of it. Her eyes are wide and concerned as she takes hesitant steps towards me.

“I’m fine!” I snap. “Leave me alone.”

“You look real bad. Can I help? If you come with me, I can—”

“I said back the fuck off!” I growl, glaring at her.

She stops and takes a step back. “My boss is gonna call the cops,” she says. “I can hide you at my place for a bit, if you come with me.”

“No,” I mutter, trying to get my legs to work so I can stride away from her. “I’ll be fine.”

“You look really hurt,” she presses. “We can explain to the cops it wasn’t your fault.”

“Can’t do that, babe,” I say with a chuckle. “I fucking started it, and you know what? I don’t even know if he was cheating.”

I shove myself away from the bar and stagger towards the doors. When I hit the parking lot, the sirens are a far-off whine, but swiftly getting closer. The wind stirs the trees, making the leaves shiver and chatter. I turn towards the forest and jog into the darkness.

I don’t even know where I am.

I’ve stumbled around through small towns and shitty bars for almost as long as I can remember. Staying away from cities just became a habit because I was always running from the foster system or parole officers. At some point, I had a car, then a bike, but now I just have my own two feet.

A desperate need for solitude and freedom has kept me relentlessly moving north into higher and wilder country. A deep loneliness within has kept me tethered to the outskirts of civilization. It’s as if my soul is being torn in two.

Let’s just have it done, then… rip me apart, and let me bleed out and die.

A few weeks ago, though, I found a source of hope. A random guy in a bar told me that he knew my brother, Rider, and that he could take me to him.

The pain in my chest reaches a searing, sharp pitch, and I pick up my pace. The ground crunches a little under my big boots as I head upwards into the mountains, forcing my body to work hard.

If it looks too good to be true, then it is. End of story.

I still can’t explain how this random guy—Tobias—found me, or knew who I was. The only answer is that he knew my brother, or at least knew what he looked like. It’s the only thing that connects us. He said he’d take me to him.

I almost shook the guy down, demanding he take me immediately or I’d follow him. Tobias dodged me by saying Rider’s pack was on the move, and he didn’t know my brother’s exact location. He said he’d be back in a week and would reunite us.

But he never came back.

I’ve reached the peak of the small mountain behind the bar. The trees thin out around the rocky outcrop, and the star- spangled sky stretches out above, all around me. I’m wild and free, and for such a long time, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.

But now I know Rider’s alive. I have to find him!

My wolf growls within me, begging to be free. I push down the primal urges, letting myself relish the pain instead. Lately, my wolf seems to be trying to tell me something, but when I try to roam, I tend to push into the wilderness with no plan on how to return.

Turning my back on the sky, I walk into the woods until I find an overhang of rock to shelter under. I wrap my big trench coat around me and curl up in the soft leaves.

Sleep doesn’t come easy with my troubled thoughts, but I’m tired and wounded. My body succumbs, and my mind sinks into a mercifully dream-free unconsciousness.

Cheerful birdsong cuts through my rest, and I groan, turning over to grab my coat so I can wrap it around myself. It takes a few seconds of fumbling around before my mind wakes up enough to understand the situation.

Where’s my fucking coat?

I sit up, suddenly so confused by what I’m seeing that I think it has to be a dream.

Where the fuck am I?

A neat grass lawn stretches around me, surrounded by a wooden fence. There are little garden beds all around the edges of the yard, overflowing with flowers and herbs. I’m underneath a huge tree, its long branches and thick canopy stretching out above me.

How the fuck did I get here?

I look myself over and see that my injuries from the night before have healed, but I’m definitely sore and scratched up from a long run.

My wolf must have brought me here. Can this even happen? It took over without me knowing!

“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head. I’ve lived rough for a long time, and I have a pouch I keep my clothes in and carry if I’m shifting to run a long distance. Sometimes I’d stash it somewhere to come back for it.

Now I’m buck-ass naked in someone’s backyard, and I don’t even know where I am or how I got here.

I only had one set of clothes, and my big trench coat kept me warm and dry out on the mountains. Without money or anything to wear, I don’t even know where to start replacing my stuff.

I’m starting to quietly panic when the door to the back of the house screeches open. A woman walks out. She’s humming softly to herself, holding a small empty basket and clippers as she heads towards the garden. I’m frozen in place, completely blank on how to handle the situation.

I can’t take my eyes off her as she moves quickly up the path, the folds of her white nightgown swishing around her legs. Long, dark brown hair cascades in messy waves all the way down to her waist, and even from a distance, I can see her eyes are a unique shade of pale blue.

Anxiety starts to fizz in my guts as I think about what to do. If I stay quiet, she might not notice me and just go away. On the other hand, if I don’t alert her to my presence, it might scare the fuck out of her when she finally does notice me.

As if drawn by my thoughts, she turns and sweeps her gaze across the backyard, the beautiful blue eyes suddenly stalling and fixing right on me.

She screams, dropping her basket and shears. They roll away from her as she puts her hands to her cheeks and stares at me with wide eyes.

“Hey,” I mutter, wondering if I should get up or stay sitting. If I stand up, it might look threatening.

I’m also not sure if I just want to parade around with my junk jiggling in full display.

She cocks her head to the side, narrowing her eyes as she takes a few steps towards me.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, obviously confused.

“Fuck if I know,” I snap. “I don’t even know where I am, or how I got here.”

Her eyes widen with shock. “You’re not—” But she stops suddenly, shaking her head.

“Not what?” I say. “Not dressed? You’re telling me, lady. I’ve got no fucking clue where my clothes are.”

I’m not sure if I should just tell her I’m a wayward wolf. I can tell by her scent that she’s no lycan, but she’s not fully human, either.

“I think there’s been a terrible mistake,” she says. “I can’t believe this.”

“What the fuck,” I curse, frowning at her. “I’m trying to explain. I didn’t do this on purpose, you know!”

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You didn’t do it. I did.”

“What?” I shriek, completely freaked out. “What do you mean, you did this? How? Who are you?”

“I’m Lucy,” she says with a little smile. “And you must be Peter.”

“What? How do you know my name?”

Lucy sighs. “Because I’m a witch, and it was my spell that brought you here.”

Anger and disbelief clash inside me so powerfully that I can’t speak. My stomach flips as I stare at her, trying to comprehend her words.

When she speaks again, the world gets even weirder than I ever thought it could.

“I know your name because I know your brother,” she says. “I know Rider. He’s been looking for you.”