Chapter 17
JULIET
Like every full-moon night since I fled Bear Valley, I can’t sleep.
Whenever I close my eyes, nightmares descend.
Random images of monsters creeping from the shadows.
Creatures with fangs that drip blood. They’re always inches away from tearing into me when I bolt upright in bed.
Not for the first time, I check every window and door in the house to make sure my home is locked up tight.
Not that a simple dead bolt could stop Cory.
With his supernatural strength, he could eventually tear through any window or door.
The alarm would go off though, and the authorities would come.
And even if the entire police force is made up of werewolves that don’t care about humans, I know they care about one thing.
Territory.
That’s the whole reason I chose to escape to Pine Falls—another small town with a werewolf pack—rather than trying to lose myself in a big city.
Living with a werewolf, I learned a lot of their rules. Including the fact that pack leaders have some magical connection to their territory that immediately alerts them to the fact that a strange wolf has crossed the boundary. If that happens, the pack descends on the intruder in a fury.
Wolves never cross pack lines. Not unless they gain permission first. And Cory would never ask to come to Pine Falls.
He disdains the Pine Falls wolves. Told me so one night when I asked him if there were other packs in the country—it was still early on in our relationship, when I didn’t worry about asking the wrong question.
Turns out, there’s a decent amount, at least two others in Utah alone.
When he ticked a few off on his fingers, Pine Falls was the last he named with a sneer on his face.
“You’re not a fan of Pine Falls?” I asked.
“Fuck no. They kicked my dad out. Their alpha was scared of him. Knew how strong he was.” Cory’s face took on a dark cast. His parents had died before I met him, buried in an avalanche while hiking in the mountains.
“My dad would have become alpha when that fucker died. But no. He had to settle for beta here. Some other asshole is in charge there now.” He scoffed.
“Bet he’s just as big of a pushover. Probably can’t tell wolves from humans in that place anymore. ”
Took me too long to realize Cory’s snarling about unfairness was one more hint at his toxic personality. And when I made the choice to flee, Pine Falls sounded like the perfect hideout.
Cory would expect me to run to a big city, probably back to the East Coast. On my laptop, I left a search history of foreign countries and the cost of plane tickets and information about passports.
He has a wild goose chase that’ll occupy him for years if he decides to look for me. Meanwhile, I’m one state over, tucked behind a neighboring pack’s uncrossable territory lines.
Why would a woman running from a werewolf hunker down with more werewolves?
Because to defeat a monster, you need another monster.
After I’m once again sure that everything is locked up tight, I glance at the clock above my stove—2:00 a.m.
Even if I could be sure of no more nightmares, I’m too amped up to sleep.
“Fuck you, Cory,” I snarl as I punch a pillow.
Fuck him for stealing my sense of safety. For ruining something as simple as lying in my bed.
If I’m going to be awake, then I refuse to dwell on why that is. Better to focus on something fun.
Despite the distance between my house and Hester’s, I decide to play it safe and grab my wireless headphones. If I want to drown out my fears, the music needs to be loud.
Since buying my home, I’ve invested in a couch and a coffee table, which I now shove up against the walls, giving myself plenty of floor space. Swiping through my phone, I navigate to my favorite playlist. The first one I put together when I got the device to replace the one I had to leave behind.
The playlist’s title: Fuck You.
The first song that blasts from my headphones is “Sorry Not Sorry” by Demi Lovato.
As the beat thunders along with my pulse, I give in to the urge to dance. In the now-open space, I flail around my house, waving my arms, swaying my hips, throwing up random high kicks. My eyes close as I revel in the freedom of movement. The joy of being on my own.
This act is powerful. This act is vulnerable.
I sing along to the lyrics, my off-key notes inaudible to me. All I hear is the suppressed fury unleashed.
Next song that comes up is “Little Girl Gone” by Chinchilla, and I yell in feminine rage, throwing out punches at all the ghosts in my past.
For a good hour, I gyrate and leap and give myself permission to make any movement with my body that brings me relief. Moves that make me feel alive and happy.
Because it’s my body.
I’ll never let anyone else have control over it again.
Sometime around three in the morning, I pass out on my couch from exhaustion.
The next thing I’m conscious of is the chime of my doorbell.
Someone is outside my house. The thought sends me tumbling off the couch and scrambling for my security panel.
My body shakes with tremors of my past life, where I knew my ex would be home at sunrise, expecting food and sex. A morning like this, he returned to our house to find me gone. A morning like this, he started hunting me.
He isn’t here. He doesn’t know where I am.
I don’t belong to him. I never did.
With fumbling fingers, I switch on the front-porch camera.
A sob of relief gushes out of me when I spot a familiar werewolf on the tiny screen. Quickly, I type in my code to disarm the security system, then pull open my front door.
“Thad! What are you doing here?” I smile wide at him, hoping the expression will shove away the lingering stabs of anxiety.
He returns my smile but with a tilt of his head, and I realize my mistake.
“Sorry,” I sign. “Hello! What are you doing here?”
The wolf holds up a brown paper bag.
“Brought breakfast.” His voice has a touch of a growl to it, but also, he speaks softly. “You hungry?”
The offer surprises me, and when I place my hand to my stomach, I realize I am, in fact, ravenous. I just never expected someone to bring me food.
“Come in,” I sign, then lead the way toward my kitchen. For a few steps, I walk backward so I can ask, “Do you want coffee?”
He nods eagerly. I put a pot on to brew, then go to explore the contents of the bag Thad dropped on the table.
Bagels. Fresh, doughy circles that smell like poppy seeds, onion, and salt.
Drool collects in my mouth.
“Thank you,” I say, then do my best with my limited vocabulary to ask what I’m wondering. “But why? Why bring me breakfast today?”
He never has before, and he had to have only just regained his human form a few hours ago.
Thad stares at me for a moment from his seat at my tiny kitchen table. He clears his throat and speaks carefully, along with his hand motions. “I worry about what Cory did to you.”
I flinch, his observation like a punch to the gut. But the blow is softened by the fact that I’m sure Thad wasn’t trying to upset me by bringing up my ex. This wolf actually cares.
“He can’t do anything anymore,” I reply, my gestures hard and fast.
Thad nods, still watching me with curious eyes. “Do you hate all wolves now?”
Bobbing my head side to side, I answer with the tease of a smile, “Some aren’t too bad.”
Thad. Tanya. Courtney. Warner. My list of wolves who seem like decent people keeps growing, the longer I live here. But are they outliers?
Thad grins wide again, and I snort. Then I notice the rapid twitching in his leg and the repeated drumming of his fingers on my tabletop.
Post-full-moon jitters. It takes wolves some time to come down from that high.
“You’re too excited to stay inside.” I point at his leg as proof. “Grab chairs. We’ll eat outside.”
Somehow, Thad’s lips stretch wider, and he lifts the two chairs with ease, maneuvering them down the hall and out the front door.
A little while later, after bagels are sliced, toasted, and smothered in cream cheese, Thad and I devour the food until only crumbs remain while our steaming mugs of coffee sit balanced on my porch rail.
The morning air is chilly, so I pop inside to grab myself a thick blanket.
Thad waves off my offer to get him one too, not that I’m surprised.
Werewolves run hot. I’m comfortable enough with the fleece blanket over my shoulders and a hot cup of coffee in my hands.
But I do put the drink down when Thad starts up with some questions.
“How are you?” he asks, still speaking along with his signing.
“I’m fine.” The response is automatic.
Thad leans closer, making sure to meet my eyes. When he signs this time, his hands move with more force, demanding sincerity. “No. How are you? Really?”
Again, I get the urge to tell him I’m fine. That there’s nothing wrong. I left the bad place and the bad man, so everything is fixed.
But then I realize that Thad is someone I can be fully honest with. He knows about Abigail Green. He knows I know about werewolves. He’s seen who I was and who I am now. Thad might be the person who knows the most about me in the world. The idea is strange. But also freeing.
So, I give him an honest answer. “Tired. Stressed. Feeling strong though.”
“Does the full moon bother you?”
I chew my lip, then sign, “Yes,” while wearing a scowl.
He nods in return, understanding how much I wish it didn’t.
“Time helps,” he says.
That’s when I find myself flipping the tables, studying Thad. He might not have gone through what I did, but I’m betting a wolf unwelcome in the pack had a pretty shitty experience in Bear Valley too.
“You?” I ask, pointing to his chest. “How are you?”
He doesn’t offer up his handsome grin, but there’s still a positive tilt to his mouth.
“Better. Happier. Still not perfect.” His voice is soft on the words, and I wonder if the volume change is because he can’t hear himself or if it reflects a new sense of peace the wolf has found here.
“No one is perfect,” I say with a smirk.
Thad shrugs and reaches for his coffee, but he pauses in the act. I watch him tilt his chin upward, the morning breeze ruffling the loose brown strands of his hair. His nostrils flare.
Scenting something.
Thad’s attention shifts down the street, toward Hester’s house.
My muscles tense in anticipation of danger, but then he snorts. The sound is close to laughter, and when Thad finally picks up his coffee for a sip, I know I can relax. Still, I wave for his attention.
“What did you smell?”
Thad balances his mug on a thick thigh before silently responding, “You have another visitor.”