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Chapter VIII
Ittookhourstoreach the edge of town. I moved quietly in the shadows, stretching my hearing as best I could to listen for anyone coming near.
I couldn’t afford to get caught.
I may have spent months in Hell, but my old territory was familiar under my feet. Unlike the Wind-Blood territory, I knew every tree and rock in Moon-Ghost. I’d certainly spent enough time hiding in all the hidden sanctuaries the territory possessed.
Richard’s foul stench covered me. I’d ripped off the bottom of his pant legs and shirts, using the fabric to tie back my hair and obscure the distinct red color.
They’d discussed a party. Pack events weren’t exactly uncommon, but when I’d lived here, I’d avoided each and every one like it was a brand of torture.
The thrum of music announced this party was well underway. The bass pounded through the ground. It actually was somewhat unpleasant with my shifter hearing, but others must’ve been used to it.
There was no time for hesitation. The Kings’s house was on the opposite side of camp. I could either walk around or through. Around would be slower and might draw the suspicions of anyone enjoying some time on the fringe.
That left cutting straight through as my only real option.
I refused to let myself embrace the fear that threatened to overwhelm me.
I moved into the crowd.
I couldn’t walk so fast that I drew attention or stall long enough for people to stare. It was close to midnight, and the party had clearly started a while ago. It had taken forever, walking in my human form so as to not rip up Richard’s clothing or draw attention from any patrols. Sabine had no doubt been back in a fraction of the time.
My entrance went unnoticed. Everyone was out tonight, and it seemed every shifter from teenage years on was getting sloshed.
“Happy birthday to the Alpha Heir!” someone called as a salute before downing the contents of their plastic cup.
His birthday. I knew it, of course—February 17th. It was basically a pack holiday.
That settled the mystery of the occasion. Which was good—surely Jett’s parents would be out of the house at the party.
It was just a week after my own. I was a year older now too.
I frowned. Was I? Or had dying stopped the aging process? I still had so many freaking questions. All over again, I resented Cole and his insistence on secret keeping. If I ever saw him again, I was going to demand answers, even if he was furious at me.
Of course, now that I’d come back to the realm of the living, there was no reason to think I’d wind back up in Hell. I might never see the grumpy Alpha ever again. Might just take Daphne and flee to the edges of the continent.
“Watch where you’re going,” someone growled, bumping into me.
I mumbled an apology under my breath, my heart shoved into my throat as I braced for discovery.
But the male who’d knocked into me kept going, uninterested. My hair coverings were working well enough, and even though I wasn’t exactly party ready, I was blending.
There was no time to waste. I made my way farther in, constantly scanning the crowd for my old tormentors.
Call it an old survival mechanism, but I was attuned to the presence of my old bullies.
It was Sabine I first laid eyes on.
I spotted her in my periphery, refusing to fully turn my neck and see. She was at the center of the crowd, dancing on a car hood.
For a moment, anger threatened to overtake me. The raw fury I felt took me off guard. It wasn’t like what I’d felt for Richard. I despised him, but he was a tool.
Sabine? The bitch had killed me.
It went a little deeper than despise.
And when I saw her drag another shifter in front, leering down at a younger girl, barely a teenager, while her goons held her in place?
