The Fugitive

It was hard at first in school, from being taught by her mother to sitting in a classroom with others who liked fighting each other at least once every hour, being taught the usual curriculum to why the Hellhounds were created and their goal. At that time, she didn't bother making friends, and they didn't bother to be friends with her believing she was too soft. Esme's brows rose at this and only scoffed in response when she saw how they 'play fight'. The winner would be the first kid to spill blood on the other; Esme thought they were idiots.

But it seemed that red-haired boy really had an issue with her, and he punched her in the face, causing a black eye to last for a week. Her mother was not happy, not because the boy hit her but at how Esme let it happen. She did extra training outside of the training they taught them at school from that day onwards. In total, she would be exercising five hours a day, and while she started to surpass her peers, her mother seemed to be growing in power, and by the time she was ten, her mother was Rick's 'right-hand man'.

Esme became accustomed to the ways of the Hellhounds; she started to believe in what she was taught because everything she learned helped her in many ways. She was the smallest in her year. Her petite body made others look down on her and pick fights with her. But they soon stopped when more than once she'd finished a fight in one blow, and the other times she looked to be dancing around her victims for entertainment. 

Living with beasts such as them turned her into someone uncaring of human emotions, and she, in turn, became a monster born through bloodshed. Children, teenagers and even adults started to become weary of her, and her mother couldn't look any prouder. At the age of ten, she went on her first mission, although she didn't need to do anything but lure a pack to this 'abandoned child' crying in their forest. Forcing fake tears to form was harder than she thought, and she silently applauded actors for their work. What followed was bloodshed she couldn't unsee.

When she returned to her cottage and showered off the day's work, Esme stopped in the hallway, her hand pausing from towel drying her damp hair as she stared at a raven-haired boy entering the front door, her mother standing behind him. He looked to be a few years older than her, his face covered in bruises and mud, his clothing ripped, revealing bloodied claw marks. She knew one thing for certain, he needed a bath and something to eat; his cheekbones and collarbone were protruding from lack of food. 

Esme's unconcerned gaze moved from the blue-eyed boy and up to her mother, who smiled and gently squeezed a hand on his shoulder. "This is Marcus. I want you to be nice to him. He was abandoned by his family and has been a rogue ever since. Marcus, this is Nyx. Let me know if she ever.. bites," Her mother looked at her, a twinkle in her dark eyes as though she approved, but Esme knew her mother meant what she said.

This boy must be important if her mother helped him. Lately, it seemed she was becoming crueller the longer they stayed at the Hellhounds. Her mother never glanced in the direction of any who might need help; it was their weakness, not her or Esme's. Their problem to deal with. Again this was how rogues tended to think. 

"Be nice," Her mother repeated in a stern voice. The boy's brow rose at this, eying her like most did, adding up that she wasn't anyone to worry about. "Show him around, give him food; he will be staying with us from now on." And in finality, and without any argument from the quiet daughter, the front door closed, and Esme was left alone with this new boy named Marcus.

Esme sighed, "Come." She turned her back on the dark-haired boy, throwing her towel on the sofa as she wandered back down the hallway and showed him the bedroom next to hers. He stared at it in slight awe before his brows furrowed and showed no interest. 

"This will be your room. The bathroom is through there. I'll do some food. Any allergies.. preferences?" She asked in a bored tone. This had to be the most she spoke all week, even when she wailed in front of those pack members. 

Marcus smirked, then opened his mouth as if to remark a snide comment, but he shook his head instead. Esme subtly narrowed her gaze then left him to make cheese and tomato toasties. After finishing the food, she turned the grill off and walked back to the room that was now Marcus'. 

"What the fuck! You pervert!" He screamed, and she spun on the spot covering her eyes. Both children were red-faced. Marcus was in a towel from a quick shower and still had yet to change. 

"Food," She muttered, then gulped, peeking behind her at Marcus' scarred back. The claw marks and recent bite marks were clean now and free of blood, but they looked sore. 

"Get. Out. Or I will attack you, runt." He bit out with a snarl, his hand clutching into a fist. 

Esme didn't reply, his threat pointless, and quickly left the room. She waited patiently until the boy returned, still wearing the same clothes but his face and hair clean, only revealing the bruises and cuts now. The pair sat across from each other at the round wooden table, looking at their food awkwardly. "You should have just eaten. I bet it's cold now," He grumbled but took a bite from his food, still avoiding her piercing gaze.

"I'm not a runt," She replied instead and continued to eat her toastie, her gaze wandering to the kitchen windows that revealed their 'garden', which was a private patch of dirt surrounded in wooden fencing with training dolls and a shed with locked up weaponry inside. Her eyes then flicked to the front door, then past this new boy's head, and she looked at the living room, checking the windows.

"That scared of being here that you can't relax in your own home?" Marcus snickered after swallowing loudly, finishing his toastie. He must have been famished to devour it so quickly. Esme had only taken a few small bites in that time. She dropped the bread and grabbed some kitchen roll between them, cleaning her hands as she assessed Marcus' face.

"If you really think you're safe here, then you're an idiot. Now I don't know how you survived the attack you encountered," She replied dryly and dropped the tissue on top of her plate before grabbing both dishes and placing them in the sink behind her. 

The chair behind her scraped backwards, and Esme ducked swiftly and elbowed Marcus in the stomach behind her, grabbing his wrist and tripping him until his knees hit the hard stone floor, his hand strained behind his back, a flick knife pointed under his chin. She assessed their positioning; even now, he did not shake in fear though she had a blade against his skin. She pushed a little harder into his skin, causing a small cut, but he didn't move.

Esme couldn't fathom his response; he was only a boy around the age of twelve or thirteen. In another fluid movement, she yanked him up and slammed him against the fridge, releasing his hand and pointing her knife against his throat again. She didn't usually need to say anything to put the message across, but this boy unnerved her; he acted.. he acted like her.

"That wasn't very polite," Esme said in a low, chilling voice, her dark brown eyes cold as she looked at the boy before her. She blinked slowly, tilting her head to the side at his expressionless response; with a knife against his throat, Marcus appeared fearless. "What was the plan? Take the runt out and run away in the woods at nightfall?"

Marcus grinned, the smile not reaching his deep ocean eyes. "What was your name again?" He asked, pushing his forefinger at the tip of the blade until the sight of blood made her relax her hold, pulling the knife away from his neck.

The pair stared at each other for a moment, then she replied, "Nyx."

"Quite the name you have there.. Nyx.. Interesting.. Daughter of Chaos.."

**

Since their first meeting, the pair appeared almost joined at the hip and soon became known as the 'deadly duo'. Though their banter back and forth always surprised people passing by, Nyx was known as the quiet one of the two that scared people more, and Marcus openly antagonised her, ending in them fighting, and a blade pointed at his throat. Still, they were both praised as the best in fighting and their stealth. Nyx was always top of the class, and Marcus was the second best. 

They were first officially put into the field when she was fifteen and he seventeen. That was also the year Rick was killed in the field when they attacked the Silver Crescent pack in the mountainous range of Silver Thorn. Many died at the hands of their young Alpha- Damon, but Rick didn't fall to a pack member. 

Rick died at the hands of their own Hellhound- Nyx. Like black mist appearing silently out of nowhere, Nyx landed atop the large werewolf's shoulders. She swiftly stabbed the silver blade into his heart once, her claws cut into his throat, keeping him from screaming before she flipped over him, yanked the knife out only to stab him in the stomach and swipe across. His intestines started to fall out as he fell to his knees, staring at the petite she-wolf dressed in all black. 

The whole time, Marcus was in the trees, keeping guard and watching the scene with a blank expression on his face for his leader. He was crouched over, his shoulder-length, midnight black hair pulled back in a small knot, his cold gaze sweeping over Nyx in awe at her deadly moves.

Nyx stared at Rick, her eyes void of emotion as she watched him struggle in pain. He chuckled and nodded his head, "That fucking bitch." He collapsed onto the earth. 

That night had been a test for both Nyx and Marcus. Nyx to do the job without any issues and to escape before anyone showed up, and for Marcus, it was to see if he could be trusted. If he was to act out of character, or show signs that he would reveal the truth, then Nyx's next target was him. Marcus, the young man who she daresay might be her best friend, and even though she never showed any form of attachment to him or anyone for that matter, Nyx knew even in her cold, twisted heart, she could never fulfil such an order. 

Only three people knew Rick's death was an assassination, Nyx and Marcus and lastly, her mother, who became the next leader of the Hellhounds and turned out to be even more ambitious than Rick.