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He gave me a harsh look. “You should let it go.”
“Why? Everyone wants to dig up my past.”
“So tell me about your most painful memory. Let’s discuss that, since you’re so keen on sharing.”
I looked directly at him, giving him no room to wiggle out of the conversation. If he thought he could throw down the gauntlet and get me to back off, he clearly had no idea who I was.
I’d been throughhellas a kid, and I had no issue spreading that shit out on the table.
“When I was thirteen, I was placed with a couple who seemed nice. Big house, lots of money, that whole ‘we really care about you’ vibe. My caseworker kept telling me how lucky I was to be placed with them, especially with howcolorfulmy past was. That was a word they liked to use a lot, colorful. What they meant was that foster parents would return me all the time because I seemed to talk to people who weren’t there, because I knew things I shouldn’t and because I just never fit in.”
I sighed at how those words had hurt so badly, at how they’d been a deeper tattoo than the ones on my arms, and how I’d worn them all my life.
I kept going, wanting to get the story out, every ugly detail of it. “So the first week went okay. I tried so hard to be normal, to fit in, to be the kid I thought they wanted. However, I started to hear the husband walk down the hall at night. As time went on, day by day, he started stopping and checking on me. I’ve always been a light sleeper—that happens when you’ve never had a real safe place to sleep—and he started coming into my room, checking to see if I was awake. I pretended to be asleep, just wanted to act like that house might have been my fresh start. The wife was strict but sweet, they were the picture of what people were supposed to want and I felt like if I just fit in there, everything would change. Then the night came when he sat on the side of the bed, and he ran his fingers across my eyebrow.” I shuddered at the memory, at the way it made my stomach roll.
“You don’t need to tell me, Ava,” Troy said, voice purposely soft.
I let out a soft sigh. “I wanted to fit in so badly that I’d put up with anything if it got me a family, so I didn’t say a word. I was on the second floor landing the next day with him and his wife, and we were talking about what to do for the weekend. His eyes went wide, like he’d seen something terrifying. Sometimes I think it was his conscience, but I don’t think he had one. He jerked backward and stumbled down the stairs. Maybe it makes me a horrible person, but I had this moment of glee, this thought that with him gone, maybe the wife and I could continue like a family. Not the same family, but I’d still have a place. I wonder sometimes if she knew what her husband was, if I was just a reminder, because she called my caseworker that night to have me picked up.” My mouth felt dry, as though I’d swallowed a mouth full of sand through the entire story. “So, yeah, I know what it’s like to have parts of my past I’d rather not remember, parts I wish I could bury. The thing is, they don’t go away. Even if you move past them, they’re like a stain that you can’t get out, and pretending they’re gone helps nothing.”
He reached over and set a hand on my leg—no doubt to be reassuring—but the sensation of being touched after the story made me flinch.
He pulled back, no sign of rejection or anger on his face. “Sorry,” he whispered.
His voice was so quiet, like I’d never heard it before, his eyes straight forward, refusing to look at me.
“Are you mad?”
He let out a slow breath, then stopped the car in the middle of the road. It wasn’t like other cars would come up on us there, I guess.
When he turned, I pulled back. His eyes were like flashlights—worse than they’d been during the fight with Kase. The lines of his face had sharpened and there was no way his teeth hadn’t turned to fangs. He was partway into a transition he was obviously fighting very hard.
He didn’t reach for me, didn’t get closer, as if he knew better. Whether that was for his control or mine, I didn’t know.
“I’m not mad at you,” he said, still with that deceptively calm and low voice, though now I got why. I suspected if he spoke the way he wanted, it would be all snarl. “You don’t understand what having a mate means, not to a wolf. The thought you were hurt, victimized, that I couldn’t and can’t do anything about it drives my wolf into a frenzy, makes it bloodthirsty. I’m not angry with you butforyou. Don’t be afraid of me, Ava.”
“I’m not,” I said.
He nodded, then drew a slow, deep breath. “I left the pack after my mate was killed. Werewolves, our dominance is controlled by our wolf half. When we’re changed, we have to settled into new dynamics. My wolf is extraordinarily dominant, but I’ve never wanted to lead a pack. The old alpha, he couldn’t seem to accept that fact, figured I’d eventually try to take over. I guess he couldn’t imagine controlling his wolf that way, so he thought I couldn’t.”
“And your mate?”
“Sasha. She was human. Sweet, soft, loving, everything I didn’t think I could have in my life anymore after I was changed.” He spoke with so much longing in his tone, as if he could still see her, as though he wanted nothing more than having her back.
And…I couldn’t deny a jealous spark in my chest. It wasn’t about Sasha, not exactly, but rather because all the things he said about her weren’t me…
It felt like seeing a picture of my man’s ex and realizing she wasfarprettier than I was.
I put that aside, though, because it was petty and stupid and Troy’s story mattered more. “What happened?”
“Sasha had no idea what I was. I thought I could keep that separate, that I could keep her safe and live a double life. Well, the old alpha decided to strike first. He snuck into our home in the middle of the night.”
“He murdered an innocent human over it?”
“I don’t think he meant to kill her. I just don’t think he cared. I’ve told you before that humans are fragile, and Sasha was a perfect example. One misplaced strike was enough.” He sighed, his shoulders sinking. “I killed the alpha over it, and killed the wolves he brought with him, the ones who had agreed with the action. I think I took out the top eight or nine wolves that night. At the end, I left. When Fredrick took power, he reached out to me, and I made it clear I was done. That was thirty years ago. I knew if I stayed or ever went back, I would never have peace. My wolf would want to lead, and others would sense my dominance and see it as a challenge, and I would forever be fighting both myself and others. So I became a lone wolf.”
I wanted to ask more about Sasha, to say something about it, but the way he’d steered the conversation back to leaving the pack told me where he wanted to focus. Showing someone a wound was one thing, and it didn’t mean he wanted me picking at the scab.
So I followed his unspoken request and stayed on his topic. “You said hunting was important. Don’t you need a pack?”
