34. Sweet Poison Ivy From The Dead
Sweet Poison Ivy From The Dead
~ E LIZABETH~
The late autumn chill bites at my exposed skin as I push through another mile, my feet pounding against the well-worn trail that winds through Dead Knot territory. Golden leaves scatter in my wake, the crisp morning air filling my lungs with each measured breath.
Two weeks.
It's been two weeks since that disaster of a family dinner, since my darkest secret spilled out in front of everyone. Two weeks that should have torn everything apart but somehow managed to piece things back together even stronger.
The memory of James holding me in the rain still sends warmth through my chest, even as I dodge a particularly gnarly tree root. His words echo in my mind, a constant reminder that maybe—just maybe—I deserve the happiness I've found.
A smile tugs at my lips as I think about how each of them has shown their support in their own unique ways. Carter's been teaching me advanced self-defense moves, his usual playful demeanor giving way to serious instruction whenever we train. "No one's ever going to hurt my girl again," he'd growled during our last session, his protective instincts making my heart swell.
Felix has become my silent guardian, his technological expertise creating an invisible shield around me. I caught him installing new security cameras in the dance studio last week, his glasses reflecting lines of code as he muttered about "optimal surveillance angles."
And Holmes... my smile widens as I think about how he's taken to walking me to every class, his presence both intimidating and comforting. He doesn't say much, but the way his hand always finds the small of my back speaks volumes.
The rustle of leaves draws my attention back to the present as I round another bend in the trail. The path here cuts through Dead Knot's territory—a risky shortcut, but one I've grown comfortable with. Besides, after going viral, most students either want to be my friend or are too intimidated to cause trouble.
Speaking of trouble...
My hand instinctively brushes against my pocket, where another threatening letter sits folded and hidden. I haven't told them about the new ones. After Felix spent so much time analyzing the first letter only to come up empty, it seems pointless to worry them with more.
They're just letters, I remind myself, pushing harder against the incline. Words on paper from someone too cowardly to face me directly.
The viral video has made me some kind of symbol—the forgotten Omega who refused to stay forgotten. With that kind of attention comes backlash, I know that. But between my own growing confidence and the pack's constant presence...
My thoughts screech to a halt as I crest the hill.
There, maybe fifty yards ahead, a figure stands motionless on the trail. They're dressed entirely in black, face obscured by a mask that looks like something out of a horror movie.
I stop dead in my tracks, my heart rate picking up for reasons that have nothing to do with exercise.
Well, shit.
My phone's already in my hand before I can think twice about it, finger-swiping to unlock and pulling up the camera.
The shot is quick and blurry, but clear enough to show the masked creep standing there like some reject from a slasher film.
I hit send to the pack group chat, labeled "Elizabeth's Groveling Simps" .
Carter's idea, naturally.
The moment my thumb taps the screen, the figure lurches into motion, charging toward me with surprising speed.
"Fuck me sideways," I mutter, already spinning on my heel and launching into a sprint.
The path blurs beneath my feet as I push myself harder, grateful for all those endless hours of dance conditioning. I can outrun this asshole—I know I can. But Hard Knot is still a good fifteen minutes away, and while my pack might be overprotective to the point of insanity, they haven't mastered teleportation yet.
Though I'm sure Felix is working on it.
A fork in the path appears ahead, and I make a split-second decision to veer left. Maybe I can lose him in the denser part of the woods, use the terrain to my advantage?—
My foot catches on something—a root, a rock, who knows—and suddenly I'm airborne. The world spins in a kaleidoscope of autumn colors before I crash into a pile of leaves, my breath whooshing out in a surprised gasp.
"Son of a bitch!" I scramble to turn over, leaves clinging to my hair and clothes as I face my pursuer.
The masked man is closing in fast, but I'm already up, dropping into the fighting stance Holmes has drilled into me over countless post-dance training sessions. My heart pounds, but my hands are steady as I prepare to show this creep exactly what happens when you mess with an Omega who's tired of being fucked with.
The crack of a gunshot splits the air.
I flinch instinctively, but the bullet wasn't meant for me. The masked man jerks to a stop, and I watch in horrified fascination as a perfect red hole appears in the center of his forehead. He drops to his knees like a puppet with cut strings before toppling sideways into the scattered leaves.
My breath comes in sharp gasps as I stare at the body, my mind struggling to process what just happened. Then a rustle of movement draws my attention back toward the trees.
A figure emerges from the shadows, and my world tilts on its axis.
Long orange hair catches the filtered sunlight like a living flame. Striking greenish-blue eyes survey the scene with professional detachment, set in a face I never thought I'd see again. Her magenta-pink tank top stands out against the autumn colors like a deliberate taunt and the low-rise jeans hug curves I remember all too well, now marked with scars I don't recognize.
My voice comes out as barely more than a whisper, full of disbelief and something that might be hope.
"Jessie?"
Her lips curve into that familiar smirk I'd thought I'd never see again.
"I knew the hype of a blonde slaying the classic ballet-hip hop industry had to be some badass bitch I'd love to be friends with, but to add it to my list of omega friends I dare admit I miss seems too good to be true."
Her expression softens, eyes warm with affection.
"Long time, bestie. You look good. Without having to be chased by a stalking psychopath, that is."
The tears I'm fighting back make my vision blur as I launch myself at her. Her arms wrap around me, strong and real and alive, and for a moment I'm lost in the fierce embrace of a friend I thought I'd lost forever.
"How?" I demand when I finally pull back, my hands gripping her shoulders. "When? You were dead in an alleyway!"
"Love to explain the whole not-dead situation," Jessie says, her head tilting slightly as she listens to something I can't hear, "but my instincts are telling me a certain pain in my ass is charging over here after I shot that 'not a deer' individual. Best I get going, hide in the bushes."
I eye her vibrant top skeptically.
"You're wearing neon fucking magenta. How exactly are you planning to hide?"
Her smirk widens.
"Fair point, but Marcus is stupid and colorblind, so he won't notice."
"Wait—Marcus? The same Marcus my pack was talking about at my family dinner?"
"So the news of you having a pack is true."
There's something knowing in her gaze.
"Yes, surprisingly."
"Let's catch up after Christmas." She glances at the body cooling in the leaves. "But first, you should figure out who sent this bulk fucker to try and kidnap you."
"I've been receiving notes," I admit, my mind racing. "But who?—"
"That could explain it," she cuts in, "but it might not be about you specifically. Could be someone trying to get back at your pack."
I nod slowly, the pieces starting to click together.
Jessie pulls out a card, pressing it into my palm.
"Encrypted number," she explains. "Keep in touch, but stay clear of Dead Knot. It's not called that as some edgy mockery. It's a hunting ground. No penalties for kills here."
Well, shit.
"Thanks for the heads up," I manage, my throat tight.
She holds my gaze for one more moment, and I try to memorize her face—alive, fierce, and somehow both completely different and exactly the same as I remember.
Then she's gone, disappearing into the trees just as my phone nearly vibrates out of my pocket with calls and messages.
My overprotective pack is going to lose their minds over this one.
The phone in my hand buzzes again, and I finally glance down at the screen. Thirty-seven messages, twelve missed calls, and what appears to be Felix trying to activate some kind of tracking device I didn't even know I had.
A message from Holmes flashes across the top.
"Don't move."
Another from Carter:
"Running your way. Try not to die before I get there."
James has sent a string of texts that get progressively more panicked, ending with.
"Elizabeth I swear to god if you're dead I'll kill you myself."
I can't help but laugh, the sound slightly hysterical as I look between my phone and the corpse still lying in the leaves. The reality of what just happened starts to sink in, sending a delayed shiver down my spine.
Someone actually tried to kidnap me?
Jessie — my supposedly dead best friend — just saved my life.
And apparently, I've been casually jogging through a legal murder zone.
"Elizabeth!"
Carter's voice carries through the trees, followed by the sound of multiple people crashing through the underbrush with zero regard for stealth. I turn just as they burst onto the path—Carter in the lead, looking ready to throw hands with the entire forest, Holmes with his gun already drawn, Felix furiously typing on a tablet while running — a skill I didn't know was possible— and James...
James looks like he's ready to burn the whole woods down.
They all screech to a halt at the sight of the body.
"What the actual fuck?" Carter eloquently summarizes the situation.
Holmes frowns at the screen Felix is holding, while Felix's fingers fly across his screen, probably hacking into every camera in a ten-mile radius. James makes a beeline for me, his hands cupping my face as he checks for injuries.
"I'm fine," I assure him, leaning into his touch. "Though you'll never believe who?—"
"You're bleeding," he cuts me off, his thumb ghosting over a scratch on my cheek I hadn't even noticed.
"That's from the leaves," I try to explain, but he's already shrugging out of his jacket to wrap around my shoulders. "James, I'm not in shock?—"
“Who shot the fucker?” Holmes asks in intrigue, and I guess Felix already found where I was with Jessie.
Probably have an image of the body already. So swift.
"Professional hit," Holmes announces. “Single shot, perfect placement. Whoever did this knows what they're doing."
Felix looks up from his tablet.
"No cameras in this sector. I’m using a drone right now. Otherwise, it’s a dead zone." His lips twist ironically. "Pun not intended."
"Because it's Dead Knot," I say, drawing their attention. "And apparently that name isn't just for show. It's literally a place where people can kill without consequences."
The silence that follows this revelation is deafening.
"And you've been running through here?" Carter's voice is dangerously quiet. "Alone? Because?"
"In my defense," I hold up my hands, "I didn't know it was actually deadly. I thought it was just, you know, dramatic campus naming. Like how the cafeteria is called 'The Hunger Games' because the food's terrible."
James makes a sound that might be a laugh or a sob.
"You're going to be the death of me."
“Maybe,” I shrug but I do take a second to admire each of them, realizing how they not only came together as a solid unit fast, but they actually came down to save me when this could not have even been a dangerous situation. “Thank you.”
They hear the depth of my sincerity, to which Carter comes over to hug me.
“Of course. We’ll always come for you, Abbie. Death can’t have what’s ours either.”
"Speaking of death," I continue, unable to hold back the news any longer, "you'll never guess who saved my life just now."
I’ll lighten the mood for now, but someone is out to hurt my pack in some way…and I’m their current target.