CHAPTER THREE

LENA’S POV

I was halfway through scrubbing spilled alcohol off the floor of my apartment when a knock came. Sharp, spaced and too damn sure of itself.

I hadn't bothered changing out of the oversized tee I slept in, my hair still messy from last night’s countless twirls in bed. I moved slowly to the door and leaned forward to look closer at who it was. And immediately, I froze.

Three men, all in black stood by my front porch dressed like war. And for some reason, something inside me stirred.

They weren't cops, not anything human that made sense at 7:45 in the morning.

“We know you're in there!” The tallest stood front and center, with an expression carved in stone the minute our eyes met. Right beside him, stood another draped in an all black suit, blonde hair, and eyes that scanned the area like he could tell something was wrong.

My fingers hovered over the lock as it snapped open. I swallowed and then took a step forward hesitantly staring at the strange men in front of me.

The moment I laid eyes on them, something shifted. It started low in my stomach like a thread tightening. My mouth for some damn reason went dry. Followed by my skin that felt electrified and alive. More like gravity itself had tilted toward them.

At that moment, I was suddenly, wildly aware of them. Of their eyes. Their presence. Their power. And something deeper.

Just then I realized the third man had his back pressed slightly against the wall, like he was born bored but yet dangerous.

The man in the center took a step toward me and said. “Lena Withmore,”

Just like that. Making it seem like he was reading it off a birth certificate or a gravestone. And in that moment, every muscle in my body tensed.

“Wh—”

“Who are you?” I stuttered.

“We’re here to help,” The blonde-haired one said, his voice smooth and surprisingly quiet. Too calm for a stranger at my door.

“Can she at least let us in?” The cocky one from earlier grumbled, and something down my guts kicked in.

I gripped the edge of the door, nails digging into the wood as I stared back at them curious as to why they were here.

“You’ve got five seconds to explain what the hell is happening here, before I slam this shut and call the cops,” I shot at them.

“She’s got guts. Like her mother!” The one leaning against the wall let out a low chuckle. I stepped out fully this time, only a few inches enough to look them in the face.

“What did you just say?” I asked.

“Your mother,” One of them cut in calmly, “was the Lycan Queen,” My stomach dropped and I searched quietly in my head for words harsh enough to protest.

The man in the center surprisingly didn’t flinch, instead, he reached for his coat slowly. “It’s just a photograph.”

I hesitated.

He held it up and in that moment my world unraveled. One long stare made me realize the woman in the center stood out like a flame in a fog.

She wore a black crown jagged with thorns as her eyes lit up with silver fire. Her hair was a long cascade of dark waves that framed her fierce expression.

But then, it was her face that made my heart twitch. Because for some reason, it was mine. Slightly older, sharper, but undeniably me.

“Why does she—-,” I stuttered, almost afraid to let out the fact that I was somehow convinced that the lady in the photo looked exactly like me.

“She died two nights ago,” the man said.

Almost instantly, I felt dizzy.

“That’s not possible, I don’t even know her!” I protested.

“Then why are you healing so fast? Why do your eyes suddenly glow?” They cut in.

“Well, fortunately, she had you hidden and dumped at the entrance of a church where you were found by a human that brought you this far,”

“No one should know that!” I mumbled to myself.

“We know more,” they chorused, and just then the one in the center took a step toward me as his gaze dropped to my chest. The necklace I have had for years.

My hand instantly closed around it and to my shock, the man in the center whispered a word to my face. A single word in a language I didn’t quite understand.

And the necklace lit up.

I gasped the minute it burned against my skin, making my senses sharper as the air around me pulsed.

“We’ll leave to think about all that we have said, and we will be back!” they chorused and the man in the center leaned forward right before he spoke out words I never imagined.

He looked at me dead in the eye and said. “Your mother, the queen, is dead and we need you now.”

And in seconds, they were out of sight.

**************************************

My whole world froze at the rummaging thoughts of all that had been said. I lay still in bed trying to process all they’d explained. Wishing it would all make sense.

But it was cut off when my eyes shot open at the sound of faint footsteps coming from the hallway. Remaining calm, listening as the steps got closer.

I looked in the direction of my bedroom door to see that it was open, with the tip of a silencer sticking out of the opening.

I waited for the door to open further to reveal a very large arm dressed in all black. From the looks of it, a very large and muscular man was attempting to sneakily step into the bedroom.

The minute our eyes met, he lunged at me by the bed smiling into my face as he stared down at my breast.

I quickly reached into the vase, pushed aside the flowers, and grabbed my emergency Glock. But to my surprise, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he had my dress ripped off my chest.

Almost instantly, I felt a cold rush down my veins and pain down my fingers as I struggled to wrench free from his grip. Regardless the assailant only had one mission in mind, which was having me raped.

Not today motherfucker!

The next minute I felt alive and stronger than usual, my vision a bit blurred and I could hear the beating of the damn man’s heart. Without wasting much time, I dug my fingers deep into his back as I heard him scream falling off the bed.

Staring down at my blood-soaked fingers, I realized the claws I’d seen the night before had now become a reality and I’d just held a man down.

The assailant was attempting to run off to my balcony when something stirred inside me as I charged toward him digging my claws into his muscular frame nonstop.

"Next time, do your job properly," I stated seriously as I rolled my eyes at the still screaming intruder and stomped on his head, knocking him out instantly.

My jaw clenched as I examined the unfamiliar tattoo in the center of his chest. In fear, I backed away from the body with trembling fingers and in that moment, it dawned that I had just killed a stranger.

A wave of lethargy hit me at the thought of being called a killer, as I held on tight to my dizzy head trying to gain my balance.

But unfortunately, the weight of what had just happened knocked me out. The body of the dead man in my apartment turned out to be the last I’d seen before my eyes went shut, and my breathing became shallow.

At that moment, I passed out…