Lis interrupted my silent brooding with a knock on my door.

"Yeah?"

"There's a representative of the Agency here to see you," she told me, dragging a hand through her hair anxiously.

Shock filled my stomach as I sat bolt upright. I calmed myself enough to walk downstairs slowly, following Lis in silence.

A representative of the Agency. Lis's words hammered around my head to the beat of my heart.

The representative sat at the kitchen table with Neal. A formal business suit, neatly combed hair, and bright, piercing green eyes glaring at me.

"I'm sure you have some questions." His plain voice was accentuated by his posh southern British accent — the type that I expected every British person to have, until I moved to the north of England, of course.

"Damn right I have some questions!" I exclaimed — angered at his calm demeanour. "What the hell is going on with my pack?"

The man narrowed his neon eyes at me, yet his words were devoid of emotion. "You are no longer part of the Coloma pack, Omega."

"What's going on with my ex-pack, then?"

"We..." He cleared his throat. "We're not entirely sure—"

"Not entirely sure?" I repeated his words in disbelief then exclaimed, "How can this omniscient agency be 'not entirely sure' about one pack?"

"Theo..." Neal warned.

"How the hell do you not know what's going on? Do you even know if they're alive or not?"

"You're an Omega," he sighed, massaging his temples with one hand. "Frankly, you don't get access to that sort of information about your old pack."

"Then, please." I took a breath. "Tell me: what are you doing here?"

"Representing the Agency," he stated the obvious.

This guy seriously starting to piss me off.

"Ah, yes. The Agency that does... What exactly?" Aggression began to seep into my words. "Because as far as I know, you do nothing except help supernatural minors — is that all you do?"

"Theo!" Neal said harshly, "Mr Evanson is here to represent the agency that protects you — you could at least show a little respect."

Lis fidgeted beside me. She didn't deal with confrontation well, which was a bit of a problem considering I had a bad habit of getting into arguments.

I put on a fake, wan smile. "So, what are you doing here representing the agency?"

"Due to your being an Omega—"

"Let me guess," I cut him off, that plastic smile firmly in place. "You can't tell me."

He nodded like it was a fact. Like it was something that couldn't be denied. Like it would define me for the rest of my life.

"So. What can you tell me?" I tried; I wasn't going to give up easily. Any news was better than no news.

"You must not leave Lake Oldoy, otherwise we can no longer protect you. Without our protection, the hunters will most definitely locate and slaughter you—" he paused after his brief moment of grotesque imagery, before continuing in the same tone, "The way they did to your pack's precious little Beta, Luke."

Springing out of my seat rapidly at the mention of his name, I growled, "Keep his name out of your mouth."

As my heartbeat started climbing, my fingernails began to lengthen and sharpen. In the way I taught myself to react, I balled my palms into fists. That way the pain would bring me back — it was a weak anchor to tie me to my humanity, but the only one I had.

The representative eyed my fists and the thick, red blood leaked freely.

"You have trouble with controlling it?" He asked, surprised.

"I lived wild and my pack is gone — of course I have trouble controlling it," I snarled at him, but by this point, my anger was beginning to subside, the anchor only just pulling me back from the edge.

"You need a stronger anchor," he informed me.

"You think I don't know that?" I exclaimed incredulously. Then my voice took on an unintentionally softer tone, "I had one. I had my pack, but now they're gone..."

"Well." The man shuffled, rearranging his suit blazer. "You'll need to find another, new anchor — that's not pain. You won't be seeing your pack for a while."

My claws retreated.

My anger became pain and loss.

The representative soon disappeared, leaving me feeling none the wiser. I fell into some sort of trance for the rest of the day; what was the point in doing anything if my pack truly were gone?

At some point, I found my way to bed and collapsed into its dark comfort.

I knew the representative was right about my anchor. Pain was a terrible anchor and it felt like the longer I relied on it, the less I would be able to control it. I needed a new anchor.

And then it hit me.

But no — I shoved the thought aside.

Yet if I asked myself who I wanted to see most at that moment, it would've been her. It would've been Ember.

Stupid.

Despite the fact I was so exhausted, my sleep was punctuated by vivid and troubling nightmares.

It was dark and I was back in Coloma; home again. In anticipation, I looked around me — but I couldn't see anyone.

Jade's screams were still fresh in my mind, and I found myself wincing as they ricocheted in my eardrums.

I might've been home, but I was still alone.

Or so it seemed.

A girl materialised from out of the woods and started running towards me. As she neared, I saw that it was Ember.

Crap. I was half-expecting her to start yelling at me again.

Instead, she collapsed wearily into my arms — I only just managed to grab hold of her before she hit the ground.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed at her. She was like a dead weight in my arms, forcing me to question whether she was even conscious.

She murmured something so incomprehensible that even my sensitive hearing couldn't pick up.

"What?" I whispered, attempting kindness.

She panted heavily, no doubt out of breath from sprinting through the thick mountain forests. "Theo..."

Impatient, I shook her lightly, "What is it?"

Energy reinvigorated her as she snapped her head up to glare at me with those blue eyes of hers ablaze — before she uttered a single word through gritted teeth: "Run."

She disappeared before I could reply, leaving nothing behind except that faint, tangible trace of firewood that had always surrounded her. That was one of the first things I noticed about her at Ashley's, all those days ago. She had liked me then; everything had changed since she found out what I was — although I supposed she had her suspicions about me as I did about her when we first met.

Snap out of it. Now isn't the time for a trip down memory lane.

She'd said run, so I began to run. I ran away from Coloma, that empty ghost town which now held nothing but mere apparitions, and into the woods.

I didn't know what I was running from until I ran straight into them.

Hunters. They consisted of a group of men and a few women; scars on their faces and weapons in their hands.

Motionless, I stood in front of them. My thoughts galloped at a hundred miles an hour, but my feet remained stationary.

"We have a message for you, Theo Aquila," the tall man, presumably the ringleader, spoke. His voice was calm and collected — not at all like he'd been chasing me through the woods.

"What is it?" I spat.

The next four words he said made me jolt myself awake.

"They scream for you."

They scream for you.

The hunter's words tore through me as I tried to steady my breathing. Sweat rolled over me in endless waves; my nightmare had felt so real that I had to double-check I was still at Neal and Lis's house.

My mind flashed back to when I saw Jade in the forest, and her scream before she was dragged away. She'd screamed my name — she'd screamed for me.

A compulsion to go find my pack filled me. With a crestfallen heart, I remembered Neal saying the Agency would know if I left Lake Oldoy's safe boundaries.

Morning rolled around all too soon, and it transpired that it was Monday again.

Lis told me that I'd had some sort of fever, which I highly doubted. It was more likely the case that Neal had drugged me to keep me in the house or something.

The shower was hot, and my mind was slow as I attempted to wash away my mounting anxiety over my pack. Not knowing what had happened to them might've driven me insane if I hadn't been relocated to the UK — an ocean away from where I might've been able to search for them.

Neal knocked on my bathroom door, making me jump out of my trance. He shouted, "I'm leaving in 10 minutes if you want a lift to school."

"Okay!" I grumbled back.

At high speed, I finished in the shower, threw on my slightly crumpled uniform, brushed my teeth, did my hair, grabbed a bagel and still managed to be out of the house before Neal.

He glanced at me, evidently annoyed, with a raised eyebrow.

I shrugged. "Pros of being a werewolf."

"Yeah, but it doesn't quite outweigh the cons, does it?" He countered.

I growled to myself under my breath but didn't reply.

We spent the entire ride in silence; with Neal staring at the road and me staring out of the window. I hated that stupid car. The Agency had said it was inconspicuous, but it was far too slow and some days I doubted that it would even start up when Neal turned the key in the ignition.

As I was getting out of the car, Neal gave me some priceless advice, "Try not to shift at school."

As if I didn't have any experience of being around actual humans. I rolled my eyes and slammed the door shut.

Like a heat-seeking missile, my eyes instantly honed in on Ember. I could easily pick up the scent of her heat on that mild September day. My heart weighed heavily in my chest as she turned away from me and was swallowed by the masses.

I started off towards her, but one of the boys in my homeroom class placed himself in front of me. It was Eric. I didn't need to be a detective to figure out his connection to Ember. The other day's little fiasco with him pissing off Ember proved what I could already figure from the obvious dislike between them. The two were exes, and not the friendly kind who meet up for drinks every now and then.

"You should back off of Ember," he told me, steeling his nerve.

"Seriously?" I laughed at him and shook my head. "I am not the one who has issues with leaving her alone."

Agitated, he stuttered, "We-well, she doesn't l-like y-y-you."

"And you think she likes you?" Raising my eyebrows, I questioned — before realising I was becoming possessive and protective over a girl who, at that moment, hated my guts.

She doesn't need me, I reminded myself and walked away from Eric. She doesn't need me as much as I need her.

Wearily, I dragged my body to form at the bell's harsh signal, knowing I couldn't be late. I would undoubtedly have some explaining to do for my absences in lessons on Friday, so I needed to be in the teachers' good books.

And I need to be in total control; I need to find a new anchor.

Sat next to her in homeroom, my mind wandered to the possibility of Ember as my anchor. If she was as important to me as Storm claimed she would be, then I couldn't dismiss her or annoy her.

I stole a glance at her, only to be presented with the one and only, infamous Cold Shoulder. A classic move and, by the looks of it, it wasn't her first time ignoring someone.

"Hey, erm, Ember?" I asked, and in answer, she turned her body slightly towards me and raised her head. "I'm... sorry for what happened on Friday. It was," I dropped my voice a little, "The full moon. And I didn't — well, don't — have control because of what, well, what happened to my pack and I—"

I was cut off by Mr Markab announcing my name in the roll call. Accidentally calling him 'miss' instead of 'sir', I was awarded a Strike.

"Pay attention next time, Theodore," he drawled.

I rolled my eyes at the use of my full name, which no one ever used, while I turned back to Ember. Wednesday glared at me across the room. I shot her a quick glare back then continued apologising to Ember.

"I—" I began, only to be cut off by Markab yet again.

"Theodore, I appreciate that on Friday you were too sick to attend your lessons," he told me, "But next time such a misfortune occurs, you should go to the school nurse. Going straight home from school when you're ill is against protocol and causes safeguarding issues. However, as you're new here, I'll let you off. But next time." He eyed me seriously as I struggled to hide my confusion. "Next time, there will be consequences."

"Yeah, sure."

Too sick to attend my lessons? Someone must've told my teachers I'd gone home ill. Ember: who else would've cared about me enough to cover for me?

I gave up on trying to apologise to her. Under my breath, I simply said, "Thanks for covering for me on Friday."

She shrugged, letting me get a taste of my own bitter medicine.

Absentmindedly, I speculated about whether there were any other werewolves at Challis High. The notion of starting my own pack afresh flitted temporarily into my mind for less than a second — before I stopped the thought from going any further.

I might've been an Omega, but that didn't give me the right to start a pack. A werewolf would have to be an Alpha to start a pack — a position no Omega would be able to acquire without at least a few faithful Betas by his side. And even then, there would be the chance that pack mutiny could occur.

And as far as I knew, there were no other werewolves available for recruitment.

Deep in thought, I slowly found my way to class. Ember had Business Studies and I had Photography — meaning we went our separate ways in silence. Unaware of my surroundings, I walked straight into some random guy. He looked about 19 already — the clear use of steroids and lack of shaving made him look like a kid playing at being an adult.

"Watch it, new kid," he smirked at me.

My brain was still slow, but I managed to blurt out, "Piss off."

"What was that?" He snapped, and two other guys from either side of the hallway stepped in to back him up.

I grimaced as I woke up and realised what was going on. Little did they know that I was not the typical new kid that they could pick on.

"I said, piss off," I retorted. If I was thinking straight and my head wasn't still bothered by Ember, then I probably wouldn't have replied, shrugged an apology and moved past them.

"Look, just 'cos you're from America, it doesn't mean that you can come over here and replace us."

"Why the hell would I want to replace you? No offence," I scoffed, "But there ain't anything you have that I want."

That last part was a lie. Chances were, they had a secure-ish home, friends they could mostly trust and an easy-ish life. I'd almost kill for an easy life.

I wasn't expecting a list, but that was what I got. Maybe listing is how braindead, drugged-up people convince themselves that they've still got more than two brain cells.

"Around here, we've got the status, the looks," one of the other boys who had appeared was listing them off, counting with his fingers. "The drugs, and, when we want them, the girls."

"Why do you sound like you're trying to be some sort of a mafia?" I laughed at them, too amused at their utter stupidity to take them seriously.

The one in front clenched his fists— is he seriously about to start a fight in the middle of a corridor?

He swung at me — so I guess he is starting a fight in the middle of a corridor. But he was as slow as any other human, meaning I had no difficulty dodging the fist. His face crinkled into confusion as he saw my reaction time was not that of an ordinary human.

Having the advantage, I seized the opportunity to land a well-aimed punch to the gut. He doubled over and wheezed.

"Do something!" He rasped at the other two, who stood motionless.

They glanced at me, my fists still balled, then back at their friend still suffering due to my powerful impact. They looked at each other.

Are they seriously going to take me on? If they were, I was more than ready. The adrenaline was coursing through my veins and if their fight or flight instinct didn't kick in soon, I was taking them down. For me, the fight or flight instinct was just fight — the only way I'd ever known.

"Look," one of them said, "We don't want any trouble..."

"You've already got it," I replied and surged at him, as the other had already stepped back.

Filled with a sudden rage that tore through my body, I was fuelled and ready to bloody that pretty, stuck-up, little face of his — the sort that girls go mad over.

My fist impacted his jaw and made a resounding click; he glared at me as if nothing had happened — was he high? At school?

Even if he was, I'd still beat him.

His hand flew out and grabbed me by my hair and ear – pulling me close to him.

"You don't mess with us." He snarled before letting go and bashing me in the face with a vice-like fist.

He's gotta be high... I thought as blood began to stream down my nose and into my mouth. Yet the bitter, metallic taste of blood was not new to me. I'd had my own fair share of fights, even between my— the pack I used to belong to.

The one who I'd punched first was back on his feet, his arms up in defence but still ready to fight. The other boy had taken flight — and I didn't doubt for one second that he'd face the consequences of that later.

Blood also began to pour out of my hands as my claws cut deep into my skin. Had this been a fair fight, if they had also been werewolves or even supernatural, I would've been able to use them to my advantage — which totally sucked.

"What are you on?" The first boy asked, half-curious, half-apprehensive.

"Yeah..." the second boy back him up, questioning me intently: "What are you on? Adderall, cocaine, MDMA, heroin? What is it?"

"I'm not on anything," I said bluntly. It was true, but my advanced senses were basically like a drug. A constant, inescapable high with barely any relief.

It was then that I pushed past them as I should've earlier. Part of me wondered whether letting them have the satisfaction of sending blood running down my face was a form of punishment.

I felt guilty about my pack, even though I didn't think I'd done anything wrong.

Ember's words echoed in my mind to the beat of my heart; we know that you allegedly murdered your pack, Theo. How the hell would I even know how to help you?

How the hell is anyone going to help me?