Page 59 of Red

“That’s what I’m here for,” she says.

The next few hours turn into a mixture of drinks, dancing, and singing. It’s the most fun I’ve had in . . . Pratt’s bearded face fills my mind. I’ll settle on a while. There are no thoughts I can hear about them wanting to kill me, no judgmental looks—except from one man in the corner who Gretch calls Sir Grump.

Tripp wraps his arms around me, and I lean into his chest. “I think it’s time to take you out of here.”

Something comforting stirs in my chest when I look up at him. It’s nice to be looked out for, to be seen as something more than a liability.

We say goodbye to the others and head into the cool of the night. The partial moon glows behind some clouds. Tripp laughs as I dance and twirl. Despite the alcohol easing my nerves, I remember to cool myself so the packed snow trail doesn’t melt too much as we go.

“Come here,” he says when we reach a long trailer on the edge.

I skip and tuck into his embrace. He squeezes me just as a shot echoes in the distance. I don’t jump this time. What am I doing? This man probably killed Pratt. I wobble and create enough space to move out of his stronghold.

“Aly.” Tripp grips my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Aly?”

Shit, that’s me.

“Yeah?” I give the biggest smile I can manage, which isn’t much.

He gives me another hand squeeze. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I think the next phase of the tequila is hitting.”

“No worries. Let’s get you inside.”

We step in, and it takes me a moment to put together this isn’t Gretch’s place. It’s a bigger space, with couches and a chair. He brought me to his place . . .

At the door he pauses to strip off a few of his own layers, down to that muscle-hugging long-sleeve spandex. Flame flickers in my cheeks as I scan my eyes over him. He’s well-muscled—not in the same way as a werewolf, but his shirt stretches in all the right places.

What if he helps take my layers off? No. I need to get out of this situation. This is why werewolves don’t drink often, our emotions get heightened and we lack control.

“Want some help getting out of those?” he says in a softer voice.

“Um . . .” His brown eyes stare down at me, beautiful ones. Not blue like the sky on the edge of a sunrise. “This is going to be dumb, but I think I’ll just crash on the couch, today’s been a lot.”

“You sure it’s what you want?” His lips come down, and I duck out of the way. “Yes.” Fuck.

He steps back, “You can take the bed then, I’ll sleep out here.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be out in a minute.” I pull off my sweater and take a seat.

“Well, if I’m not here when you wake, feel free to stay or leave. I’ll be on shift, but I will find you.”

“Okay, thanks for today.” Strangely, I mean it. Yawning, I lie down. He hesitates for a minute and then walks away. The shower starts running, and I close my eyes.

I manage to sleep for once. The alcohol must have helped. I wake to an empty room and rub my face. I can’t believe I let him take me back here and almost kiss me, Stark is—

No. I need to stop worrying about him. He might be happier than ever. I left almost a week ago now when he wanted me locked in a bedroom. Behave, Red. I can bet this was not in his wildest imagination of what could’ve happened. It’s not like he can say a thing, already tied to someone for life. Nikki couldn’t stop going on about what she’d want in a ceremony when this is all over. Lirea shared that they were thinking of doing it after the war ended so everyone could have something to celebrate after the bloodshed.

I’m here to stop any more blood from being spilled.

I stroll out of Tripp’s trailer, a gun swinging at my back, and walk to start mapping the place down. I need to refocus on the goal of being here to save my land, my home, and the life I want. This might be a great pretend break, but I can’t be myself here anymore than there. I’m at even more risk. They’re hunting my kind. Stark didn’t pull a gun on me when I melted snow or burned his skin or magically healed his wounds, even if he is a boundary-lacking ass at times.

The sun hides behind clouds while I walk the entire perimeter. Tonight, if Tripp meant it, I get to go on one of their shifts. The origin of the gunshots I’ve heard.

I enter Gretch’s trailer, and she stands up from the couch.

“Well, isn’t it Aly doing the walk of shame.” She giggles.