“You need to be honest, or you need to go.” The declaration rings from him with a certain finality. As if he were a king, announcing a decree that all the villagers had no choice but to follow.
My brief amusement vanishes, and I’m a new level of livid.
This wolf has no idea the strength it took for me to get to this town. The fear I dealt with on a daily basis for months, worried that my plans would be discovered. The terror of the night I fled. The pain of leaving my entire identity behind.
I struggled for my place in this town, and Roderick has no right to take it away from me. He’s not the mayor. I’m not a member of his pack. I’m not a wolf at all.
I am a woman, doing her best to build something new after demolishing all connections to my past.
“Guess what.” My voice turns calm, deceptively pleasant. “I’m done with catering to the fragile needs of men. Much less one of you.” Stepping around him, I return to the home I bought for myself. The place I plan to make my safe haven. When I step inside, I turn for a final comment. “In other words”—I grab my front door—“fuck off!”
The slam of wood against wood rattles my tiny house, but it was worth it.
Pressing my back against the door, I wait. After a minute or so, there’s the sound of a truck door being slammed shut and an engine roaring to life.
He’s leaving. Thank the gods.
Only when I’m alone, with the exchange replaying in my head, do I fully comprehend how much I said with the express goal of making a strange werewolf angry.
And I pushed him. Repeatedly.
It was like I was trying to get a rise out of him. A physical reaction. Like I needed Roderick to hurt me. So I could prove that he was exactly as untrustworthy as Cory.
And now my body is a jumble of raw nerves, expecting pain. Bracing for it. Cringing from it.
That’s when the panic sets in.
My fingers shake horribly as I press the buttons on my alarm keypad, quickly changing the code to my grandmother’s birthday. Then, with my back against the wall, I slide down to the floor, clutching my knees to my chest.
The anxiety ripples through my body, setting every inch of me quivering.
What will he do?
Will he come back?
If he does, what willIdo?
Cory was always nicer after he bruised me. Bringing flowers or jewelry.
The first always died, and I left the meaningless baubles behind.
If Roderick hurts me, will he at least be nice afterward?
A furious, frustrated sob rips from my throat at the helpless thought.
My whole being is primed to slide directly back into that toxic cycle. Cory tried his best to shape me into the perfect empty cup to dump his anger into.
With effort, I breathe at a steady pace, trying my hardest to control what physical reactions I can. Time seems to pass slow, but eventually, my heart backs off its panicked rhythm. My muscles continue to twitch, still expecting pain, but I’m not crumpling under the weight of past fear anymore.
With a determined heave, I push myself up from the floor.
Cory failed. I left. The beaten-down creature he’d tried to create is not who I am.
I am not a thing to be broken and taped back together with meaningless apologies and shiny objects.
If any man tries to use me that way again,he’llbe the one to break.
13
