7

I shifted into my wolf and concealed myself in some bushes. Dang, it, I was so near, I kept low in the darkest part of this bush gazing straight where Cooper was coming out of the river, suddenly I saw him going out but towards the city, good he departed to the city.

Shit, the hunter tosses a little ball, a grenade with wolfbane as smoke. When the same wolf knocks me down, his bite goes directly for my arm, ripping a piece out of me, I try not to yell, and instead, another hunter smacks me with his baton. If I don't get out of this situation, I'm doomed.

I'm being forced down to the ground by the officer and the hunter, when I notice a lady holding a pistol and darts in her other hand, loading the rifle. She has a terrible grin on her face. What caught me by surprise was how much the woman resembled me of Chika.

Chika POV

I couldn't stop thinking about what the doctor and social worker had concluded: that I would be placed in an orphanage. Were they crazy? I won't be with anybody I know here if I go to one of them, neither Juana nor Ulysses. Ulysses! Where could he go when he was recorded on television for doing nothing wrong? I didn't stop chewing my nails until the doctor did.

"Chamicka, you made yourself bleed. Keep it here until I grab what I need." I gripped a little napkin that he put on my thumb.

Yet, the things I keep thinking about require answers, so I turn my head to the doctor as he looks through his belongings, and as he shuts a little cabinet, I ask him. "Doc, is Ulysses, the youngster on TV, going to be all right?"

I glance at the officer standing in the room, puzzled, as if I wasn't supposed to inquire about him, and I wonder what his issue is. The doctor returns and takes a seat in a little circular chair with wheels to care for my thumb while answering what questions he can.

"I have no clue who he is; I've never treated someone with that name, and even if I had, I couldn't tell you since it's confidential information between doctor and patient only." after rolling my thumb like a butterfly's cocoon.

"But why is there a policeman on the scene? Juana, perhaps? What about the social worker? Jeraldo? " I'm annoyed because I always get annoyed when people think I'm stupid; I'm not a kid; I may be young in age, but I'm far from a child with how I have to live.

"The cop is here because you are under federal protection." Your guardians, who have assumed responsibility, it is not my place to discuss. Your social worker, or in this case, the director, will be informing you. From my understatement as a doctor, you have been cared for by my staff, but from the Cruz family for a while, I do not agree with giving you back to the Venturas if you should be removed, that is my personal and professional conclusion. Now I will take my leave. The doctor does what he is told and departs.

"Sir Martin, may we have a moment?" The social worker asks the officer once the door has been closed. His walkie-talkie starts asking for him out front as soon as he says that.

It got to the point that the statics from those radios made me uneasy, since each time it was an order, it typically entailed their manhandling me. I swear the police here are a huge fat joke, I feel safer in the trunk of my parents' limo. The door finally closes and Director Rojas closes his folder, one hand taking his spectacles, the other rubbing his eyes.

"All right, Mis Ventura, here's what I've decided: first, you'll be staying in a remote orphanage where no one will know, and I'll be working with your parents to help children live their lives free of the control of their abusive family, guardians, and anyone else in charge of the minor, am I getting it?" He puts his spectacles back on and looks me in the eyes.

I nod my head. He's behaving like my professors, Juana is ready to open her mouth when I cover it with my head, giving her a look that says "don't say anything," I realize it's either my parents, the streets, or this, and in all honesty, I have a lot better odds with this option than on the streets.

"All right, wonderful, Jeraldo, take this, we'll see each other in a bit, Chamicka, come with me," I said. He says something, and I glance at Juana with a worried expression on my face, but I keep everything else to myself as I embrace my closest friend.

"This isn't goodbye; we'll see each other again someday," I say, and he pulls me back to perform the one thing we've done since we were kids: she raises her pinky with a straight face. "Did Pinky make a promise?"

"Pinky promise!" I say as I grin at my pal, who knows this is the genuine thing. I grab her pinky in my own and entangle them.

"We will see each other soon, we promise," she grins as I get out of bed, and Jeraldo embraces me tightly. "Grab care Chicka for a while at least," I smile and wave as I take my suitcase.

My ear still aches, and it stings a lot more now, but when I was leaving the hospital, I had a nurse look at it, and she replaced the portion of my ear in the location, then had me go; that's how hospitals operate; everyone is always in a hurry.

Walking to the rear of the hospital, we climbed the emergency stairs to the basement, where a vehicle was waiting for us; I was so afraid to get in that car that I left the puppies in the back of Juanita's truck; I forget about the pups, and when the director gets in, the car door is still open.

"Miss Venture?" you could ask. I stood motionless, thinking only one person could do that and laugh during her game of fun, mom, as I took one step to be close to the other foot. A bullet went through my hair, missing my neck by a hair, and I stood frozen, realizing only one person could do that and giggle during her game of fun.

I bolted towards the vehicle, but she fired again, and this time she got my hand, the same one where my thumb was covered. Son of a bitch. I fall on the vehicle's floor and throw my legs in because it's a habit. The car doors are shut, but my mother continues to discharge her pistol at the car. Is she insane? Damn, she always goes for my feet, my legs, never my hands, so I push my palm against my skirt to keep the bleeding down.

My mother yelled, "Pussy, come out here and show me what you have!" as the automobile accelerated out of the basement. I sigh, knowing it was my beloved pet name as a child, especially when I was 6. I have no clue what occurred on that day, but my leg does; I raced to the clinic in one of the homes after she shot my foot for stumbling over a stair in the house; she shot my foot simply for that. However, the agony she endured as a result of hearing my father's emissary was well worth it.

When I returned home, my mother did not greet me. Instead of hiding for months, when I finally saw her, she had her entire body covered in black from head to toe, I overheard her lover at the time trying to make her feel better from being at the dentist. That was weird, my mother always had perfect teeth. It wasn't until about a year later that I discovered why by mistake, thanks to one of the guards who downloaded the security camera film and transferred it to his mobile phone.

I was walking down the stairs as they stood next to the stairs with their cellphones. I saw way too much of the abuse my mother had to endure. Then I saw it. The guy put gloves on his hands with sharp metals on the end as he abused her. He hit her jaw and broke some of her teeth. How she survived is beyond me. When I saw that, I grabbed the guy's phone; however, I had no clue my mother was following me down the street; when I spotted her, I handed her their phone after explaining why she pulled out her revolver from her purse and shot them both once.

My mother became extremely strict very quickly, but now that this has occurred to me, why are they shooting at me? Everyone had to leave their belongings in a specialized case that only her fingerprint would allow them access to their own personal devices, and everyone had to leave their belongings in a specialized case that only her fingerprint would allow them access to their own personal devices, my mother became extremely strict very quickly, but now that this has occurred to me, why are they shooting at me? Is my father aware of this? Is it true that the transaction didn't go through? No, if that occurs, I'm absolutely dead, which means I'm no longer valuable, at least to them. Fuck.

Before I could fathom what they may do to me, the vehicle unexpectedly stops, the director lunges forward and bangs his head, and my knees go up my chest to shield me while I'm still on the car's floor. As soon as we stopped, I heard something scrape the door. Could it be? I rise. I I opened the entrance on the opposite side with my good hand, allowing one of the puppies to enter. I grin as I see him since he is wet and his nose seems to have been severely scraped.

I quickly close the door in case those who work for my parents find another opening, I lock the doors, hoping and praying they do not find me. The puppy is whining at me, but my hand has started to burn again, making me his and curse. The director moves to try and soothe his head after hitting the front of the car. He takes his cellphone out and makes a call, I don't pay much attention because my hand is literally killing me, I start to see black dots in my line of vision,

Cooper POV

It was definitely worth it to get struck by this automobile; I can't describe it, but I could smell her blood, and there was a lot of it. I know I shouldn't leave my brother alone, but I can't open my snout for crap. Because my body is too weak from attempting to cure my snout, I'm forcing a hunter to sit on one of those bridge traps whenever I see one.

I'm pleased. Chicka noticed me scratching the side door, but I wasn't expecting to see her drenched in blood, especially her skirt, which was pouring with blood; when I saw the director, he had a little cut on his arm that was also bleeding; where did they attack, did someone try to murder her? Why do I snarl at the thought of someone injuring her? She's merely a girl who rescued my life and was the only one who really cared for Harper and me. Is it as a result of that?

I moaned at her since my nose was still hurting and I couldn't open it, but when the vehicle finally started moving, her body shifted to the side and her heart rate changed from really high to extremely slow, which was not good, is she okay? When I look at her, her respiration is practically imperceptible, and her hand is dripping with blood. I look over to the person next to me and overhear him remark;

'Yes, I'm OK; if the girl comes alive, we'll continue the plan; if she doesn't, we'll return her to her family; the prize remains the same.'

Those statements made me growl even louder, and the man heard it and chose to pay attention to me immediately. He flinches and appears horrified when he sees my crimson eyes, which is wonderful since I want you scared and bleeding out worse than my lady. What's up, my girl? Nobody, not even this person, should be looking for her.

"Who the heck are you?" says the narrator. He yells, and the man in front of him glances back and drives as if nothing happened since he can only see my snout.

It still hurts like hell, but it's worth it to growl at this scumbag. I try to open my mouth by biting my snout, which stings to the point of making me sniff and lick like a maniac. Eventually, I open my mouth and attack him mercilessly, biting and ripping his face off, my claws ripping his chest and neck. If anyone is going to die, it'll be you asshole.