Werewolf Compilations

Chapter 49

My world is black. I can hear my blood rushing through my body, my heart pumping, and a constant

blaring noise, but I cannot figure out what it is. My eyes wave open and closed, seeing only slivers of

light and blurred colors. The noise grows louder as I fight to keep my eyes open, fighting to discover

the cause of the endless sound. I try to speak, but only murmurs escape my lips. Suddenly, something

grabs me from behind and drags me over unusual bumps and curves, some striking my back painfully.

My baby. My baby.

"Someone... m-my baby," the cries slip from my lips but only come out as moans and inaudible

mumbles. Starting to drift back to reality, I see the sky above, cluttered with clouds as the float along.

My head falls to the side and my eyes land upon asphalt. I am being pulled.

Everything crashes into me all at once, the collision, Katy, the studio—I was in a car accident. My head

rolls over to the other side, and my eyes grow wide. I see our car, but it is severely damaged, the front

almost non-existent. Katy. Where is Katy; I think to myself as I try to regain control over my body. My

neck screams in pain as I attempt to look up. Panic overtakes me, and my heart begins to race, my

chest growing tight. Who is dragging me? Where am I?

Suddenly, the asphalt shifts to patchy grass and the sun is shielded away by towering trees. This

person is taking me into the forest, away from the road. My feet try to move, but my legs are limp from

exhaustion. Against my will, my eyes betray me as they warily close, blocking me from the truth. I fight

to open them once again, but darkness engulfs me and does not let go.

The next time I find myself regaining consciousness, I discover that I am in a car, laying on the

backseat. There are no restraints holding me down, but my limbs are too weak to move anyways,

deeming the point of restraints useless. Someone must be driving, but it is not Tyler, I do not smell him.

I try to speak yet again, but as before nothing audible comes out. Frustration causes tears to rise.

"She's awake," an unfamiliar voice says from the front of the car.

"Doesn’t matter, her arm is swollen, and she can barely move, she's not going anywhere," the driver,

who I can barely see, says back.

My head pounds relentlessly, making me feel nauseous.

I try to touch my small baby bump, but my good arm refuses to move. The tears stream from my eyes

and fall into my hair, and a rough sobbing noise quietly sounds from my throat. Where am I going? Who

are these people? Where is Tyler or Katy or Jackson? The questions never seem to stop.

The car turns and begins to drive on a slight incline before it comes to a halt. I swallow and watch the

two men the best that I can as they get out of the car and escape my view. Before I can conjure any

sort of plan, the door beside my head abruptly swings open.

A stranger's face reaches over my own, and I hold back any screams, not that they would hold much

power anyways. "Take her out and carry her inside. I'll inform Richard that we're back," the voice calls

to the man in front of me as my throats begins to swell shut. Richard. The man said, Richard!

A deep, powerful fear settles in the pit of my stomach as the man roughly yanks me from the seat. He

lifts me up, causing an array of pain-stricken cries to erupt from my throat. My arm is dangling, and

pressure strikes the sprain with relentless punches. The man, whoever he is, recklessly places my arm

on my torso—which hurts terribly—but is better than the hanging motion.

My eyes frantically search my surroundings as I am lifted from the car and swung into the crisp breeze.

Clouds, trees, a path, a building, a door, I take note of every significant thing I see. The man carries me

into the building and my anxiety skyrockets. Inside is dark, but the man drops me onto a couch, brown

leather which sticks to my hot, damp skin. My hand caresses the damaged one as hot tears continue to

fall from my eyes. "Who are you?" I croak, managing to form an audible sentence.

Before the man can speak, another snatches the spotlight.

"Annalee, my sweet."

A large, muscular man appears from the hall with another standing behind him. It is Richard, my

tormenter, my stalker, my greatest and most real fear. He is here, standing in front of me, and my mind

cannot seem to wrap around it. After all this time, this is how it will end.

"I have been waiting for this moment for a long time, my sweet. Luckily, you gifted my men the perfect

chance to steal you away," he says with a gut-wrenching stare. "Do you know how valuable you are?

And now, you are all mine; my army shall storm with a vengeance because of the gift you hold."

I swallow, my tongue dry. Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

"You've hurt yourself, but you are not dead—" he stops. Richard strives towards me, causing me to

flinch back. "I can smell it, a she-wolf with a child." A smile grows on his face.

He can smell my baby; my baby is okay.

"How excellent, a head start in some way," he cheers with a dark undertone. "Do not fret. I will have

your arm fixed up, so you are in the best condition possible."

Richards rough hand reaches down and strokes my bruised cheek. "What a gift. I could not imagine

this unraveling any better." He turns to the men. "Bring her somewhere to rest, and get someone to

wrap her arm."

My eyes wander to the man as he lifts me up once again. Richards' eyes follow me until I disappear

around a sharp corner, no longer under his harsh gaze.