The Eve of Darkness

Chapter 22

In all honesty, what Aria really needed was an incredibly long, unending, unquestionably deep nap. She needed a sleep that was so powerful, it would be recorded down as the best nap to have ever been had in the previous two thousand years. It would be such a good nap that it would rival the resurrection of Asclepius. If she could, Aria would nap so hard that she became a major deity that not even the lightning of Zeus himself could keep dead. If she tried hard enough, she could already imagine it: she would fall asleep peacefully. It would probably be in the forest or in some patch of flowers, or in some canopy or bough of a great tree. She would stretch our her arms and legs, fold her arms under her head, lay back and stare up at the humming leaves above her as they soothed her into a slumber. That slumber would then last at least three days after which, with rested bones and relaxed muscles, she would arise with vigor and energy once more. 

Or, maybe, the nap wouldn't take place in the forest. Perhaps the nap would come on the couch in the sitting room, with Camden resting between her legs with his chest to her back. Maybe they would read together as they usually do, and he would drift off, soon followed by Aria, and they would spend the rest of the day snoozing in front of  a warm fireplace as the Montana rain set in as summer finished rolling into fall. The nap would be so good, so long, and so uninterrupted, than when they awoke, Aria and Camden would have to figure out what day it even was. Maybe the nap would be so good, their pant legs would have rolled up to be more similar to be pantaloons. 

Yes, what Aria needed was a God-level nap that could remove the last seven years of trauma from her brain. 

Unfortunately, life has other plans.

So, instead of getting the nap of all naps—the sleep of all sleeps—Aria was sitting in a a large meeting room, surrounded by her mate, the beta and head warrior of her pack, the head doctor of her pack (that is adamant about all of the werewolves one at a time as they talk), and the mate of the beta, who wouldn't stop staring at said beta with hungry glances. 

Again, Aria just wanted a goddamned nap. 

What made all of this worse was the plethora of photos and documents that recorded each and every single horrific form of torture that she and other werewolves went through prior to her rescue from the hunter's cabin. The images were gruesome and the accounts were cold. Their clinical nature, paired with the distant way of dehumanizing the nature of a werewolf were, at the very least, unsettling, and at the very worst, traumatizing in their own way. For among those documents, the group had found the thing that they were hoping to never find: a connection to the Hunters of Artemis. 

It was through this discovery, that the Darkwoods pack learned of the horrid truth: 

Werewolves, Aria and the rest of them had come to realize, were being systematically killed off. 

Werewolves were officially being targeted by an elite, violent, global syndicate for one tragic, vile goal: complete and total eradication. 

"While I can't see the images myself, I know enough about the Hunters of Artemis to know that what included is pretty gruesome. I don't know why you're holding this information back," Camden complained as he crossed his arms and straightened his back. Aria pursed her lips and glared at her mate, even though he couldn't see the expression. 

"I'm not 'holding back' any information, Cam," she answered, raising her hands to place air quotes around the offending statement. "I just think that the photos aren't worth talking about as much as the other information we found, such as the experimentation and weapon innovation ideas." 

Camden huffed and refused to budge. "And I think that there is nothing wrong with me wanting to 'see' — for lack of  a better term — the things that are on those photos."