Running with Wolves Ch. 01

This chapter has been edited from it's original post. Thank you all for reading, and please comment and vote at the end!

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When Dominic had thought the day could not get any worse, he had been wrong.

It did get worse.

Not wanting to walk around in a soiled shirt to meet his next clients, he had taken a chance and stopped by a thrift store to purchase a cheap new T-shirt. While he was in line to check out, his phone rang. The couple he was supposed to meet up with had decided to cancel.

"Oh, don't be like that. I was really looking forward to seeing you two again and I'm only ten minutes away. I'll make it worth your while if you reconsider..." He was laying it on thick, but he needed this hundred bucks.

Cue the bullshitting: It wasn't a good time, their new roommate was going to be there, maybe next week when he would be out of town? More bullshitting.

"Well if you're worried about that, I'm cool with letting him stay. I don't care if there are a few extra people. I won't charge you for him if he stays in a different room."

More bullshitting, more bullshitting. Ah, and we finally come out with the real reason. The new roommate was their dealer. He wouldn't be okay with someone he didn't know coming over. He was extremely paranoid.

"Look your dealer doesn't need to worry about me. If you're that worried, I can come over later when he isn't there."

The lady at the counter had a perplexed look on her face. 'What, never listened to a guy prostitute himself before?' Dominic gave her a smile and reached into his sling strap backpack to grab his wallet.

Again with the bullshitting. The guy would be there a while; they didn't know what time he would leave.

"Come on baby, is it really that much of a problem? You know I can be very~ flexible." Something about their dealer being too paranoid and they didn't want to risk him doing something crazy. Maybe if he shot up with them their dealer wouldn't be so worried? They were in good with the guy so he probably wouldn't have to pay.

Dominic sighed in annoyance. "No, I can't shoot up with you. You've known me long enough to know I don't touch the stuff... No, you know what, I'm good. Have a good night." The phone made a satisfying snap as it closed. He clutched it in his fist and smacked it in frustration against the counter. The cashier, not knowing quite what to do, rattled off the total. "I don't need it any more. Have a nice day."

Dominic adjusted his pack to rest against his back, gave the girl one last sad smile, which she returned, and left out the shop doors.

It was chilly outside, being the middle of September. The coffee, which had been hot enough to leave a stinging burn on Dominic's chest, was now cooled off in the night time air and sticking against his skin. It made him flinch when the chilled fabric made contact with the warm burn. The liquid had stained the grey shirt to a most likely permanent dark brown color, but at this point he would just have to settle for hiding it under the black hoodie stashed in his bag. Dom needed to get back to the truck before much later. Even with it being a lemon and not worth much as a whole, a chop shop could still strip it to make a few bucks. Plus, he had stopped by it halfway through the day and dropped off most of the cash he had. Leaving it for more than a couple hours was just begging for trouble.

It was parked about 15 blocks away, hidden behind an abandoned store between a couple dumpsters Dominic had been able to shift around to hide it better. He would sleep there tonight, then tomorrow he would pick up a small load of groceries, and the Grinch would just have to deal with being $50 light this month. They were good for it next month, and he knew it.

As he started down the busy city street, Dominic noticed a tall blond haired woman walk past him. It wasn't the same one from before, thank God, but she looked enough like her that he had to do a double take. He was crowded on one side and she wasn't looking his way, so she ended up bumping into him. She grabbed his arm to steady herself, looking towards his face to apologize. She seemed to pause a moment, staring, before blushing at the extended eye contact and mumbling a quick apology as she released him to continue on her way. At least she would have been the polite sister.

After walking about two blocks in the direction of the truck, something in the air shifted. Turning off the lit populated sidewalks and walking down a dark alley for a shortcut in a big city never brought on a good feeling, but tonight there was something more off than usual. Dominic had developed a sixth sense when it came to his environment, a product of living in abusive households and on the streets most of his life, and that sense was telling him someone was following him. Stalking him.

There were no sounds of movement or talking, and looking around there didn't seem to be anyone around, but even so he picked up the pace. Getting jumped was not an option either.

*

It took Dominic more than an hour longer than it should have to get to the spot he hid the truck. Not trusting there wasn't someone following him, even if his eyes couldn't find anything, he had moved back to the busier streets and started weaving in and out of crowds, going into store fronts and bars only to immediately exit the back kitchen door or shimmy out a bathroom window. He was taking no chances tonight, and his gut was almost never wrong. Even with all the extra precautions, the feeling of dread didn't abate. He felt he had lost whoever was following him, but the unease of impending doom kept nagging at him.

When he finally made it to the truck, he took a pause.

'Dammit, I took too long getting back.' It sounded like someone had already found the truck and was messing with it. 'This must have been what was what making me so tense,' he thought. Somehow he didn't quite believe that, even as he thought it.

Hoping it was just some punks, or maybe the homeless woman that had made a home in an alcove about a block to the left, Dominic glanced around until he found what he was looking for: a stack of old, rusty pipes. He had noticed them earlier when he had come to drop off his first load of cash. They would have to do.

Picking up the sturdiest one he could find, Dominic crouched down and slowly made his way to the back corner of the building, avoiding the street light and broken glass on the ground till he was close enough to peak around the corner.

There was a dumpster in the way, but by listening to the voices and different sounds they were making, he was able to get a basic picture of what he was up against.

From the voices he could hear there was one, no... two men and one teen. The men were standing by the back of the truck farthest away from him, talking about what they were finding in Dominic's backpack and dumping the contents on the tailgate. Assholes; he had just put all the clean stuff from the upstairs in there this morning when the lower floor flooded and drenched his bag. They better keep it all off the ground. 'Yeah, like car thieves are going to be considerate. 'Hey we took your truck but we left the stuff that was inside somewhere clean and safe. Here is a key to the locker we rented to put it all in.' Not going to happen.' Dominic held back the urge to snort.

The boy was in the cab, his voice closer and echoing slightly whenever he interjected into the adult's conversation. He sounded maybe 15. Dominic could hear when he opened the glove compartment and started rifling through the receipts and paper notes. Hopefully he hadn't looked under the seats yet. That was where the cash, and a small 9mm Ruger Garrett had found a year ago, was hidden. If they found that, fighting them would hold no purpose.

Sure that they wouldn't see him come closer with the large trash can in between them, Dominic slouched around the corner and tip toed to lean his side against the dumpster, pipe still in hand and at the ready. This close he could begin making out words from their conversation. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the men on the other side of the dumpster.

" ...her Destined. Dagwood said he spotted him after it happened. Apparently he doesn't look like much. Good looking, but rode hard and put away wet and willowy is how he described him. No wonder Misty is pissed." The kid said from in the cab, still going through the glove box. The rustling papers were a dead giveaway.

"Well, Luna chose him for a reason. Maybe she just isn't meant to lead? But you never know, maybe Dagwood was wrong. He could turn out like Kate did and give Misty a run for her money. He is going a bit blind in his old age." One of the older men. He sounded like a big guy and in his mid to late 20's: Not someone to mess with.

"He isn't that old and we don't go blind. Besides, I'd like to see anyone try to keep her from taking over the pack. I was there when that bitch from the Hood Mountain Pack challenged her. Doc Rivers was hard pressed to get that girl's organs back in her body before she could heal too much. I don't think she was able to save the arm though." The other guy at the back, older in his late 40's, but also big. If it had only been one this would have been much simpler. Dominic wouldn't be able to take them head on. Leaning back, he opened his eyes.

These guys didn't sound right in the head. 'Luna? Pack? And that story of the girl with the organs. They don't sound all there.' Maybe they were druggies, or some weird gang that was using slang Dominic just didn't understand, but one thing was for sure and that was they were going to be a problem. There was too much muscle for him to fight off head on, and they weren't some kids he could scare with a loud bang and a threat to call the cops. As he contemplated what to do, a thought came to him.

It might not work, but it was worth a shot.

*

Flint was just finishing going through the stuffed glove box and about to get out of the cab so he could search the rest of it when what sounded like the pile of pipes on the side of the old storefront crashed onto the pavement. They hadn't heard anyone approach, but they all started when they heard a woman cry out in pain and begin to scream and shriek.

"Someone help! Oh God someone please help me! I'll do whatever you want just don't hurt me please! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Flint swung out of the cab and was about to run to help her when Hale grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

"Oh no you don't, you aren't even supposed to be here. Mom would flip her shit if you got hurt. Stay here with the truck." The woman let out another wail. "Stay with the car! Do NOT move!" Cliff was already turning around the corner, Hale not far behind.

Flint stared at the corner where his brother and their guardian had disappeared for a moment, peeved, before scoffing in frustration and crossing his arms to lean his hip against the wheel well of the beat up clunker. Everyone was always like this. Just because he was the baby brother didn't mean he couldn't take care of himself. So what if he was a bit late to-

The sound of a gun being cocked made him freeze. Slowly turning, lifting his hands on instinct, Flint came face to face with a small handgun, along with the man holding it. He had it held in one hand, pointed straight at his forehead. How the hell did this guy sneak up on him? His ears weren't that bad!

The stranger glared calmly at Flint as if this were an every day occurrence. "Don't make a sound." Flint shook his head furiously, not able to speak even if he had wanted to. He had never been so scared by another living creature in his life.

The man holding the gun was a bit taller than him, maybe 5'11 to his 5'9. His hair was black and shaggy, hanging slightly over his eyes, giving him a brood-ish look. His nose was slightly dented like it had been broken then not properly set, and his slightly narrow mouth and square jaw were relaxed, but his eyes; it was his eyes that scared Flint more than anything.

It was like there was a dim blue glow stick inside the socket, giving his sclera an eerie luminescence, only made brighter by his dark lashes and rich cobalt blue irises that reflected slightly as if made of crinkled foil. They were cold as they stared into Flint's, as if what he had been through in his life had sucked all the ability to feel joy and happiness out of them. The look was more pronounced because of the tired circles underneath his eyes, telling of a lack of sleep.

He even smelt dark. Like something akin to black cherries, coated in coffee and sex. It was beautiful yet terrifying. It was also the scent that had brought them to this particular truck. 'Oh hell...'

*

Dominic flicked his gun up slightly.

"Back up." The teen did as he was told, taking measured steps towards the back of the truck. Dominic matched his pace. "I don't know why you were messing with my truck, kid, but you really shouldn't be touching things that aren't yours. It's rude."

In the background he could still hear the woman screaming bloody murder. It hadn't taken much to convince the homeless woman to help with the ruse. Four granola bars and a large can of beer will get you far with people like her. All she had to do was scream for 20 seconds to get those men to come help her and the food was all hers. It hadn't worked completely, but the largest threats were gone. That just left the kid.

"Look, we didn't mean anything by it. We weren't going to take anything, we just needed to know who you were."

"And why did you need to know that? I'm not on anyone's turf." Dominic was careful about where he left the car. No one had claimed this block as theirs. "It doesn't matter, anyway. Your friends will be back any second. Just stay quite and do as I say, and you'll get home just fine." He reached the back of the truck and, without taking his eyes off his target, began shoving his larger travel backpack and the spilled contents back into the bed so he could close the tail gate.

Flint's eyes flickered to the left. "Look, Dominic, I'm really sorry. Just let me explain."

"How the fuck do you-" Dominic suddenly saw stars. He grunted as his body jolted forward from the force of someone smashing a pipe against his shoulder blades, all the air leaving his lungs with a loud whoosh. He fell to his knees and begin to sputter and cough, gasping to re-inflate them.

"What the FUCK Hale?! Did you need to hit him so hard?!" The kid moved to pick up the gun. It had bounced away when Dominic had dropped it, about four feet away. That wasn't good.

"He had a gun pointed at your face, Flint. What? Was I supposed to just let him shoot you? Asshole had it coming."

"Didn't you recognize his scent? He doesn't know who we are! If you had just let me talk to him-" The kid began reaching down for the gun. Dominic saw his chance.

After incapacitating Dominic, the men hadn't noticed or they hadn't cared about the pipe he had held with his other hand while he had the gun on the teen. It had rolled under the truck when he fell. They probably assumed he couldn't reach it. But as he knelt coughing and gagging on his sticky throat, Dominic could see how the asphalt was slightly sloped as it went towards the building, and that slope was just enough to give the pipe the momentum it needed to role back under the truck and towards Dominic's left side.

Right before the boy, Flint, was about to wrap his fingers around the gun, and with the other two men distracted by an argument, 'Something about attacking a possible Destined? These guys really are nuts', Dominic grabbed the rolling pipe and lashed out as hard as he could with his right arm. He screamed from the pain that lanced down his arm from his shoulder, but the pipe still hit its mark hard. He could hear the man's fibula crack and felt it give under the blow. The younger adult, Hale, shouted in shock and pain, falling backwards but catching himself on the truck rail. Flint cried out for the man, too focused on him to notice Dominic make a dash for the gun still lying on the ground.

Right as Dominic was about to grab it though, someone else tackled him to the ground. It was the third man. Dominic had forgotten about him. They tumbled to the ground, knocking Flint on his ass as they went and rolling away from the gun.

For a moment the older man had Dominic pinned on his back, his hands holding down his shoulders and legs straddling his waist. Looking into the older man's eyes, panic began to set in. Flashes of memory began crossing through Dominic's mind, threatening to consume him and forfeit him into submission. It almost had him, but under the fear came the voice of reason, giving him clarity and understanding. It wouldn't help him if he allowed the panic to devour him. Later; later he would fall into that pit of darkness that was his past, but for now he had to get out of this, he had to stay alive. The others were waiting for him, so he squashed the panic and centered himself while his body continued the fight to keep him alive.

Something must have shown on his face, because for a moment the man looked taken aback, his grip loosening ever so slightly. Steeling his resolve, Dominic felt his body move. Not flailing in fear, but flowing in a practiced motion.

Dropping his hands and grabbing the man's wrists, he pulled up, dragging his hips out from underneath his opponents and drew his knees up until they pressed against his chest and his feet were free. Then without pause, he shifted, pulling both hands to the right and taking the other man's hands with him. Using the leverage from the resistance, Dominic pivoted his lower body to the left, wrapped his legs around the left arm of his adversary and shoved down while keeping hold of the guy's left wrist.

Within three seconds Dominic had his attacker's left arm held tightly against his abdomen, his hands and right leg holding it in place, while his left leg pinned the other man's head to the asphalt.

Normally this move would be used to keep control of an attacker till help arrived, but there were two others and a gun in play, so Dominic didn't hesitate. Thrusting up his hips, he dislocated the man's elbow and broke the bottom of his humerus. He screamed in pain.

Before any of the car thieves could recover enough to get up, Dominic jumped as fast as he could to his feet. Searching for the gun, he looked up to see that someone else had already grabbed it.

Flint lay on his side, panting in fear, holding the gun and pointing it at Dominic. They froze and stared at one another for a moment. Both males took each other in, gauging what the other was going to do next. The gun was the counter weight of this battle, whoever had that would tip the scales heavily in their favor and have all the power. The smart move would be to try and get it back. At this distance Dominic could see the fear and hesitation on the boys face; he was most likely to lose that fight.

A groan behind Dominic made up his mind for him. Giving Flint one last look, he turned and bolted to the truck, praying the kid wouldn't shoot him in the back. Hale was still next to the truck, trying to lift himself onto his good leg in order to help his companions.

As he ran towards the cab, Dominic did the only thing he could think of to keep the much bigger man from trying to stop him. He picked up one of the discarded pipes and swung it as hard as he could. The cylinder again made contact, this time with Hale's skull.

With him unconscious, Dominic was home free. He grabbed the door, about to pull himself into the cab, when he was taken by surprise from behind for a second time that night.

This time, however, this unknown assailant didn't hold back. They body slammed him full force into the side of the truck. There was a snapping sound in his skull that Dominic knew was his nose being broken, and an internal popping feeling that he could only assume were his ribs cracking. His head crashed against unyielding metal, clouding his world in fuzzy darkness.