Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
I thought that would get a chuckle out of her, but only silence came from Nia’s side of the room.
I grimaced. Nice, dumbass. Real great time to be cracking stupid jokes.
“Sorry,” I said, and meant it. “I used to be good at this, but a year on the run did nothing for my social skills.” Taking a deep breath, I tried something I hadn’t done for a long time. Honesty. “I did it because I said we were friends, and when people say something, they should either mean it, or shut the fuck up.”
She started, blinking at me.
“Yeah, okay,” I sighed. “I still could’ve said that better but—"
“You saved me.” Nia’s voice was small—shaking—but clear. “You’re good enough.”
With that, she flipped over, drawing the covers over her head. That was the end of our talk.
I glanced at the door that would take me out of this depression jail cell they called a dorm room. Standing up, I grasped it, and firmly closed it shut.
Sighing, I plopped down on the rickety chair in my dress made of dirty tree droppings, and settled in for a long night.
I BOLTED UPRIGHT AND tipped the chair, falling flat on my ass. Groaning, I shoved up on my feet—looking around.
My sweep took half a millisecond and confirmed what my nose was telling me—Nia was gone.
The jail cell didn’t have a window, so I couldn’t tell what time of night or day it was, but my exhausted mind felt clear enough that I guess I slept for several solid hours. It had to be sometime around early morning.
Nia’s not here, and that’s good, I thought, slipping out the door. She must’ve gone to find a friend like I suggested.
I truly hoped she had. I may have been on a homicidal mission to slaughter a few or more people, bring Wolf Nation crumbling to its knees, and crown myself as its first and unquestioning queen, but that didn’t mean I wanted people to be hurt.
Well, at least, not the people who weren’t standing in my way.
Making it to my room, I crossed to the rug and threw it off the floor. The loose wood came off easily, revealing my new hiding place for the list. I crossed Mason’s name off with a satisfaction that was obscene even for me.
Killing him the way I did was not how I wanted it to go down, including accidentally killing him in front of my fates.
“Oh, well.” I dropped the paper back, writing him off metaphorically and mentally. “Couldn’t have happened to a sweeter guy. Have fun burning in hell, bitch.”
Getting up, I got my stolen pajamas out of the wardrobe, hopped in the shower, and washed the whole night off me.
My bruises and burns were all healed. My headache from my sleepless night was gone, and Mason was dead. The night started off shitty for more than just me, but it ended up okay. Especially between me and my fates.
I wanted nothing to do with that band of irritatingly hot alphas and omega. They were distractions I didn’t need, and if they couldn’t be useful, they could stay out of the way. But surprisingly, last night they were useful, and shockingly, it seemed as they stepped aside and allowed me to help Nia, they were silently agreeing to stay out of the way.
“Good.” Climbing into bed, I crawled over to the other side and riffled through my nightstand. Carefully, I drew the old jewelry box out and placed it on my lap. “I know you said the best day of my life would be meeting the mate that was perfect for me in every way, but you were wrong, lady.” I smiled at Mom’s picture, matching her beaming grin.
It amazed me somedays how much I looked like her. We had the same umber skin; same eerily light, golden eyes; same thick, curly dark locks; and the same crooked smile. The only thing my dad kicked in were my sticky-outty clown ears that looked like two open car doors whenever I pulled my hair back. Thanks, Dad.
“But that’s okay,” I continued. “Not even you could’ve predicted what massive assholes they would be. Even Luame was shocked by their massive assholery.”
I heaved a sigh. “But I’m talking to the wrong picture.” I set down the photo of Mom on her wedding day—resplendent in a blush-pink gown with an illusion neckline. Most werewolves didn’t bother with an official wedding day because the mating day did the trick. But Daddy always said he loved her so much, he married her twice.
Yeah, my dad was always saying sweet stuff like that to and about Mom. She was the only person on earth who tapped into his soft side.
“But I bet on this day, you wanted to kick his soft side up his backside.” I stifled a laugh as I picked up my second favorite picture of Mom. Ratty hair, dark bags under her eyes, and spit-up on her sweatshirt to offset the blood. Clutched in her arms was a screaming, kicking baby me with half-changed claws where my hands should be, and blood on my mouth after taking a baby-sized chomp out of her mid-breastfeed.