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“That will be quite enough, Magnolia, thank you.”
She’d gone green again, and I was pretty sure she might vomit at any moment. For a girl who ran with a werewolf pack—one who routinely hunted down and ate wild animals—it was remarkable how unsettled she was by death. That sort of squeamishness could spell trouble for her in the future. Wolves sensed weakness, and Mags reeked of it.
I hoped for her sake she found a way to belong in the pack, either by marrying a more alpha wolf or finding herself a niche to make her useful to them. Otherwise she was going to stay bottom of the totem pole her whole life, and that was no place to be among werewolves. She would be taken advantage of, even in a pack as well managed as Callum’s. There were always bad apples willing to pick on those weaker than them.
Callum and Savannah returned to the box, both peering over the edge to the contents within. I imagined Mercy’s blank, dead eyes staring up at them.
My uncle looked up, and for the first time since I’d met him I didn’t know what to make of his expression. There was something of it that reminded me of fear, but fear wasn’t an emotion Callum would express while others were around. Perhaps, then, it was awe or admiration? But he, too, appeared queasy about what he saw.
“You told me to bring her head,” I reminded him.
“How did she die?”
“After she kidnapped Vivienne, we dealt with most of the members of a rogue pack she’d established. She ran. I chased her. We fought. She died.”
“How?” Savannah asked, her voice edging on angry.
I stared at the aunt I’d never met and saw only my mother, which made empathy for her loss exceptionally difficult.
I pulled out my sword and held it flat in both hands, showing I meant no harm to those who might leap in to protect Callum. “I used this to stab her through the throat into a tree and watched her bleed out.” My gaze never left Savannah’s. After a moment she looked away. “Any other questions?”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The last time I’d gone for a run on my uncle’s property, I’d been a wolf.
I’d also managed to get shot by a would-be assassin.
Overall it hadn’t been the most positive experience of my life.
This time around, though, I cast those memories aside and focused solely on the way things felt, smelled and sounded. I’d left my boots and socks behind, and removed my jacket, so I was wearing only jeans and a tank top. If my inner wolf had her way, I probably would have gone naked, but I opted against that.
Desmond offered to come with me, but this run was just for me.
I tore through the trees, running as if my problems were tangible things chasing after me. I relished the stinging pain of twigs and pine needles prickling underfoot and the way my skin slipped across the damp night grass. The whole world was alive with smells. Out here, with nothing from the city to contaminate things, the air smelled of leaves and grass, of wet earth and free-flowing water.
Each breath I took was crisp and clean, and with every foot, I got farther and farther from the things threatening to drag me down. It was a temporary reprieve, but one I would embrace while I could.
This was as close as I could get to letting my wolf out without actually changing, and though she wasn’t satisfied, she was wide-awake and making her presence known. Given that she normally spent most of her lucid time revolting against the decisions I was making, it was nice to feel something from her akin to happiness.
She wanted out, but since I wasn’t going to let that happen, this was the next best thing.
I found a well-worn path through the trees—their bark coated with thick moss—and kept running until I could no longer hear or smell Callum’s estate. I leapt over fallen logs, ducked beneath cracked trees and pushed myself forward harder and harder until my legs felt hot and my lungs began to protest.
Only when I no longer knew where I was did I stop running and take a moment to catch my breath.
My heart raced, and I was glad for the reminder I was alive. I stared into the darkness and wondered how far I could run. Could I just keep going? Would there come a point they’d all realize I wasn’t coming back again?
I crouched low, bracing my hands against the hard-packed earth, and felt the hum and vibration of the land through my palms.
I could do it. Run and run and never stop running. It wasn’t the adult thing to do, nor was it a brave move, but it would be a way out.
But then what?
Desmond and Holden would be left behind, and I’d never get to see either of them again. All the people I cared about and loved would wonder what had become of me, not knowing one way or the other if I was all right. And all those problems plaguing me? They wouldn’t just vanish.
Aubrey Delacourte wouldn’t stop wanting his favor, and he might take it out on those I cared for.
The Council, especially Juan Carlos, wasn’t likely to forget the lie I’d been living, even if I wasn’t around to be punished for it. There was always someone else to pin the blame on. Would they take it out on Holden or my father? Probably.
