Number 9: The Genetically Modified Werewolf

Chapter 7

The guys all moved to the pack house. Then they walked to Slade's office where his father was waiting patiently for them.

Walking behind the desk, Slade sat down and leaned forward, placing his linked hands on the desk.

"Speak." He said gruffly. He was in no mood for beating around the bush. His mate hated him or wants anything to do with him.

He was going to learn everything he could about his beautiful mate and try to understand her so he could finally begin to gain her trust. But by the looks of it, it was going to be hard.

"Ri-Right." Dexter nodded his head and then took a seat. He was intimidated by all the wolves spread out in the room and blocked his exits. He knew just because he was going to be part of the pack that he had to earn their trust – it wasn't given lightly.  

Gulping, he wiped away a stray bead of sweat from his temple before speaking.

"W-where do you wa-ant me to s-start?" he asked and tried not to fiddle – one of his bad habits.

Slade paused for a second. "You said she was created." He trailed off for the man to continue.

Dexter nodded his head and then began to explain what Nine was. He recalled the memory over twenty years ago – to the very first day he discovered Victor's dark obsession....

Seven year old Dexter pulled open the heavy door. He turned back to make sure no one saw him. Uncle Victor was out running an errand so it was the perfect time to sneak into the room. With one last look, Dexter nervously stepped inside the dark hallway.

Uncle Victor told him not to enter that room but his curious mind wanted to know what's behind it. His little feet took him deeper until he saw a dim light in the end. His ears strained to hear any sound, making sure no one was inside the room.

Peeking around the corner, his eyes widened in awe. Stepping out from the wall, Dexter slowly walked and took in everything. A reclining chair was to his left, like the ones he saw in a dentist but they had bloody chains hanging on the arm rest. There was a smaller metal table next to it with sharp tools, Dexter noticed the dried blood on it and chose to stay away from it. To his right was a long desk that extended to the end of the room. Piles of paper were scattered over it and other equipment that you would only see in high tech laboratories.

Further across from him was two large bookshelves and another door next to it. He made a mental note to go through that door but first he wanted to explore this room. Walking carefully, he moved to the desk and climbed on the chair.

He picked up a random paper and looked through it. Dexter was very smart for his age, a prodigy as Uncle Victor told him. He mostly loved science and would read tons of books his Uncle would give him so he could understand a most of what the paper was saying.

Dexter then spotted an open book that looked well used as papers and notes stuck out of it. With his little hands, he picked it up and began to flip through it. He noted that this book was like a diary of some sort.

He didn't think Uncle Victor was the type of person to keep one. It was filled with notes and pictures of Werewolves. Dexter found a page that seemed interesting and began to read.

'The Lycan – Werewolf ancestors. 

If done correctly and using the purest blood line of lycanthropy, my creation should possess the feral and vicious nature of a Lycan.

Fascinating creatures they are.

They are the pure Werewolves as I like to call them. Though those fools from the council disagreed and called them a Rogue abomination.