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66.66% Captured (Binned) / Chapter 4: Keelyn

Capítulo 4: Keelyn

────•~❉᯽❉~•──── Four

────•~❉᯽❉~•────Edeen

The voice startles me making me jolt, bringing myself to my feet accidentally pulling onto my bounding chains. The force of the collar being jerked against my neck causing me to lose my breath as I start choking and gasping for air. The silver burns my skin more as I feel a warm liquid trickle down my neck trying to roll downwards only to be soaked up by the collar of the T-shirt I'm wearing.

I feel the body of another person rush towards me with panicked shaking breathing. "Are you okay?"

Gasping for air, I finally answer growling, "I'm fucking peachy." I look at the person who nearly scared me to death. She has curly dark brown hair that goes down to her shoulders. Solid chocolate brown eyes with petite facial figures and a small body build. No wonder I didn't hear her come in she's so tiny.

Her full lips form into a frown as she begins to speak. "I didn't mean to scare you." She pauses for a minute as if she's waiting for me to say something. I huff silently giving her a hateful look as she continues, "I'm Keelyn, Keelyn Blinn."

"Well Keelyn, I'm Edeen, now what are you doing in here." I raise my eyebrows at her. With how petite she is she's not here to move me or anything of the sort.

"Master wanted me to come to tend to your wound. You're to begin fighting next week. The wolfsbane makes your wolf weak so you'll be healing slower than normal, and the silver mixed with your wound will slow the process even more." I finally notice the small medical kit she has in her right hand. She's wearing torn jeans and a ragged shirt, like me she has a silver collar but hers isn't bound by chains. She smells of honey and something familiar.

"Are you a werewolf?"

She blushes, "yea, I was born prematurely so I haven't had my first shift yet." Hm. Normal werewolves shift at the age of sixteen, the first shift is always excruciating as the bones break from their human body and reform into their wolf for the first time. Prematurely born werewolves are a special case and normally shift at the age of eighteen, the same age as when you're supposed to find your mate. My eyes raise up wondering how old she is, she must've sensed my question as she answers me. "I'm seventeen. I'll turn eighteen next year in May."

Keelyn motions for me to sit down and I comply, she sits down beside me and starts grabbing objects out of her medical kit. She pours a liquid substance on a towel, I wrinkle my nose at the strong sterile smell and looks at me with concern. "This is going to hurt," she pauses before adding, " a lot." She begins dabbing the towel on my wound and begins cleaning it. She was right it fucking hurts. I begin clenching my teeth trying to muffle my screams that are begging to be set free.

After suffering for a few minutes of the burning torcher the sterile substance brought that she had used, the wound seemed to be clean of all the blood that had caked it earlier allowing for a clear view of the wound. I winced as I realized the damage that had been done, the gash extends from the front of my shoulder and spirals down to the right side of my arm stopping just above my elbow. The gash is the width of one of those yellow pens you get from cash express. I sigh, this will most definitely scar.

"I'll have to stitch it," Keelyn says so soft I would've missed it if it wasn't for my sharpened hearing from being a werewolf. She seems afraid of me, but I don't blame her I was rude.

"Do whatever you have to." She nods and begins stitching the wound, weaving in and out carefully closing the skin. Wincing at the pain I try to distract myself and start asking questions. "So, how do you know all this medical jazz?"

"My parents were the doctors of the pack I was in." Sadness sneaking into her words.

"What happened to your pack?" She piqued my interest, why is she here if she had a pack and wasn't a rogue? There are tons of packs across the world. We're in the North America district, which has roughly 400 packs.

"Master destroyed it." she pauses before continuing, "My pack was Lunar Willows." She whispered so faintly I could barely hear her.

My mouth makes an o-shape, I heard about what had happened to her pack two years ago. Smoke filled the air swirling and dancing in the air as it raised further into the sky. The smoke had alerted Lunar Willows neighboring pack, Blood Moon, that something was wrong. By the time the pack had reached Lunar Willows borders, everything was set aflame and everyone was slaughtered.

It resembles what happened at my pack, pain rises in my chest as i am reminded of what happened. Sighing, I finally ask her what this fighting everyone keeps mentioning is about. Keelyn was reluctant to tell me at first, but she said she would tell me for a price. She wouldn't tell me what she wanted from me but she seems innocent enough so I agreed.

As she finished cleaning my wound she told me about how Jackal, or Master as Keelyn calls him, is the one in charge of fighting pit. When wolves become low he raids packs or hunts for rogues every so often in hopes to capture new wolves. She went on to explain that the fighting pit is where he makes werewolves fight against each other, to the death. If one of the wolves in the pit gives up during a fight the hunters will shoot it ensuring its death. The entire fighting pit is for the hunters or anyone's own pleasure, it's sick even more so since the operation is being run by one of our own kind.


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