The Dual Claim

Chapter 4 Soraya

I woke before dawn. The sky outside my window slowly turning gray. A glance at the clock on my nightstand said I had an hour or so until sunrise. For a second, it felt like any other morning…then the night came back in a rush.

With a heavy sigh, I got out of bed. I knew what I had to do. What ‘we’ had to do in order to survive the degradation and humiliation from last night. I wasn’t naïve enough to think it would end here; it would continue every single time I stepped out of Wane Hall.

I found the least frayed clothes from the few I owned, and then packed the rest.

I looked at the bed I called mine for almost all of my eighteen years, even though it really belonged to the pack. In one sweep, I cleared the sheets and piled them in a heap near the door.

I moved slow, careful not to wake anyone. The kitchen was dark. Stove cold. No voices. No clatter. I stopped at the back door and gave the room one last look.

Cold air hit as I stepped outside. The sky was a dull gray that hinted snow would arrive sooner than later. I hauled the pack high and tight. I cut toward the trail behind the shed. The road would be easy to follow so I went off trail.

Not that anyone would follow. Maybe. Going rogue broke rules. Some alphas dragged you back. Some sent trackers. Some just pretended you didn’t exist. I didn’t know which kind Silverpine would be.

He is ours, Orielle whispered, sharp and sudden. He will miss me.

No. He chose.

He lied.

He spoke. We both heard it Ori.

She tucked herself down, sulking. I wanted to reach for her. I didn’t know how.

The trees thinned. Scrub gave way to the back lots of town.

I stopped and put my backpack on the ground to count my cash; sixty-seven dollars, forty cents. Too bad I didn’t wait to go get my paycheck from the library. That money would have been a nice cushion. What I had now, wasn’t enough for a room. Maybe enough for a bus. Enough for food if I only got the basics for a few days.

I made my way into town through an alley with a hole in a chain link fence. It housed the back door of a bakery that poured out heat and smelled like yeast. The baker’s wife leaned in the doorway.

She didn’t know my name, didn’t know ‘pack’. Didn’t know “Wane.” Just another girl passing through. Her eyes did a quick assessment then she moved back inside.

That was the best part about town. Humans didn’t realize wolves were their neighbors. Just people who worked shifts and paid taxes.

They smell us, Orielle muttered.

They don’t care what we smell like. As long as we don’t stink.

My stomach pulled tight. I told it to wait.

Outside the alley, around the corner sat a small diner. A large sandwich board already faced the street. Bacon. Eggs. Toast. Pie by ten. Coffee by the pot.

Warmth and smells wrapped me at the door, bacon, coffee, butter, toast, and syrup. The woman behind the counter looked up, then down. Her fingers pressed buttons on the register while she looked at me.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning.” My voice worked.

“Table or to go?”

“Table.” I replied as I took a seat at the counter.

“What can I get you?”

“Toast and tea.” Please came late. “Please.”

She nodded.

The waitress brought tea in a little pot, toast on a plate, butter soft at the edges, a little jam packet set off to the side.

“Thank you,” I said.

She gave a short nod before adding gently, “You need anything, you ask.”

I realized that with my threadbare clothes, backpack, puffy eyes, and in a diner at dawn on a Sunday, I looked like a runaway or someone on the run from something.

I lifted the lid on the pot and took a sniff. Strong. Good. I cupped the pot, letting the heat seep into my hands. It felt good. Butter melted easily into the toast, I wish she’s doubled the amount, but it’s what I got. The first bite was dry, even with butter.

The bell on the door jingled, and the waitress looked up and told the new customer to sit anywhere.

Orielle pressed close enough to make my breath catch.

Meat.

We can’t afford meat.

You starve us.

We’re not starving. We’re careful.

Lucien would give us meat. Orielle’s voice came low, raw. He would feed us.

No. Ori. He’s feeding someone else.

Her silence after wasn’t acceptance, it felt obstinate.

The hair on my neck lifted. Someone was watching. I couldn’t see who without turning.

Silverpine. It had to be. No one else would know me. No one else would care.

Maybe they came to take us home, Orielle whispered, soft, almost hopeful.

No. Not home. We can’t go back. I replied a little sharper than I intended.

She went quiet after that.

I forced calm. Finished the scraps of breakfast, and left the amount she wrote on the bill, plus a small tip.

“Thank you,” I told the woman.

“Anytime,” she said. Her eyes cut to me, then back down. “Keep to this side of the street. Stay away from Pine Street. Ridge boys were out late.”

“I’ll keep right,” I said.

“You keep where you want.” Her words were plain, but they carried something like concern. “But you look alone. Alone can be dangerous for a girl.”

I stood and nodded. I walked to the door, every step a fight not to glance around the room.

The bell over the door clinked as I pulled it open. Cold air slapped my face, but it was refreshing after the heat of the diner.

I stopped for a second to adjust, make myself steady, eyes scanning the street.

A chair scraped behind me. Footsteps followed, slow and patient.

I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck again.

The watcher was behind me.