Free Clarity by Claire Farrell

calm. Don’t breathe through your nose too much.”
    I choked down my response as the familiar smell of enemy werewolf invaded my nostrils. I should have ripped out her throat when I had the chance.
    Amelia was crying. Tears were rolling down Perdita’s face; she looked as though her heart were breaking. Jeremy’s hands were on her, and I wanted to break those fingers, but Byron held tight, and something inside me froze.
    Erin led Perdita into the ambulance, and before the doors closed, Perdita caught my eye, her stare filled with betrayal and pain, but most of all, anger. I knew Byron was right. She hated us. She blamed us. Her father had been attacked right under our noses, and not one of us had done a thing to stop it.
    It took at least an hour to get everyone off our property and probably longer for the situation to really sink in. They all talked about the attack in excited voices—how big the dog had been, how dangerous and wolf-like, how they were all so lucky that they hadn’t been hurt, too. Indignant vows were made to call the dog warden and even the newspapers first thing on Monday morning. Proclamations were declared against backyard breeders who were obviously creating those fashionable wolf hybrids. They talked of how it was a disgrace that wild dogs could wander around attacking people without being caught.
    Blood had been drawn. There were reliable witnesses, and that meant the whole wild dog situation would finally be taken seriously. Life was going to get awkward.
    But all I could think about was the werewolf attack and how it could possibly have happened at our home, of all places, and in front of everyone. That had to have been intentional. Could we have even reacted had we seen a werewolf? What would we have done, shifted in front of our neighbours? That was what I should have done. I should have paid attention to the warning barks of the dogs. I should have caught the scent of strange werewolf. I should have been there to stop her. The mess of people had confused my instincts, muddled my senses. If only I had been there…
    I paced my room while Byron tried to escort everyone out. I couldn’t handle the tension and excitement in the air. It ripped a hole in the barrier between me and wolf. And I couldn’t forget Perdita’s face, how I hadn’t protected her again.
    What good was I? I had taken my bad mood out on her and left her by herself. She’d left with only bad memories of me, and that was killing me. There had been so much blood, so little movement. I didn’t even know if her dad would be okay. If he died…
    I tried not to think of all the terrible things that would happen. It was Mémère all over again. That awful sense of helplessness pervaded, suffocating me.
    I couldn’t go through it another time. Same mistakes. More pointless pain. Something had to be done.
    By the time everyone had left, I was ready to punch my fist through the wall. I rang Perdita’s phone numerous times, desperate to know what was happening, but no one answered. Byron warned me not to leave, but I was close to running. The walls shrank in on me, making me feel cornered, caged.
    Amelia was still sobbing when Jeremy brought me downstairs.
    “Chill, little man,” he warned me, his fingers pinching my shoulders.
    “Easy for you to say,” I snapped.
    Byron came in first, but he looked as aggravated as I was, and for some reason, that deflated a little of my own anger. I wasn’t alone in my frustration or confusion. That meant something.
    “What’s going on?” I demanded. “How the hell did this happen?”
    He shrugged wearily, falling into a chair and rubbing his eyes. “Let’s wait for the alpha to fill us in.”
    Those words only served to fill me with dread. If Byron wasn’t in control of the situation, then what chance was there for me? Opa must have heard him, but he didn’t respond when he joined us. He didn’t take a chair, but in an alpha kind of voice that meant we couldn’t refuse, he