Chapter Four
1434 Words
Six Months Later
Meadow
I roll over as my alarm goes off and sigh. Glancing over at the window I notice that the sky is grey and dreary. Wonderful.
Oh good, Clover pipes up. The weather matches the atmosphere of this place. I giggle, slapping a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.
At least the flowers appreciate the rain, I tell her optimistically.
Girl, what flowers? This place is like living in a concrete box.
I sigh again, getting up to get ready for the day. I carefully fold my quilt up and place it in its usual spot underneath the mattress, making sure it’s well hidden, since my mate apparently has an aversion to bright colors.
I take a quick shower and wash my hair, wrinkling my nose as always at the very generic scented shampoo. About a week after coming to Blackwood Ridge, Alpha had replaced most of my personal items with ones that he said were “more fitting to a Luna.”
Apparently Lunas aren’t allowed to smell like coconut and strawberries. Who knew?
Wrapping myself in my fluffy black towel, I brush my hair back out of my face and into a tight bun at the nape of my neck. Very sophisticated. Very Luna.
Very boring. Clover deadpans.
She’s not wrong. I really miss letting my hair fall down my back in a long braid.
I check myself in the mirror making sure it’s all in place before attacking it with hairspray and heading to my closet.
I fling open the doors, praying to Mother Moon above that a miracle occurred and the bland wardrobe got spicy overnight and poofed into a colorful array of skirts and peasant tops.
Sadly, it did not.
“Borrrrrrr-ing!” I sing as I pluck the fluffiest black skirt I can find off the hanger and slip it on. Next I pull out a white short sleeved blouse. I’m about to slip it on when Clover interrupts me.
Not the short sleeves.
Oh. Right. I frown, glancing down at the fading bruises around my wrist before rolling my eyes. Placing it back in the closet, I pick a long sleeved shirt instead with pearl buttons holding the wrists tightly closed.
Do you think he’d notice if I cut it off into a crop top? I ask Clover with a grin.
She chuffs at me.
Are you kidding me? Garbage Garrett notices anything you do that’s slightly fun.
That’s the reason we’ve been stuck in long sleeves for the past week, remember?
As if I could forget.
At first I’d convinced myself it was just me trying to adjust to a new pack and having a mate. Alpha Blackwood was patiently teaching me things and correcting what he considered to be mistakes. After a couple of weeks, the suggestions stopped feeling optional.
New shampoo because I smelled too fruity.
A new wardrobe because mine was too colorful and casual for a Luna.
A request for me to wear my hair a certain way because my braid was childish.
I went along with him on most of these changes until the day he tried to put my beloved quilt “in storage.” I knew that was just his cover story for throwing it in the trash. It was the only thing I had left that made Blackwood Ridge feel like home.
I was like a feral animal, snatching it out of his hand and baring my teeth at him as I stood on my bed. In the end he relented and allowed me to keep my quilt, but I now kept it carefully hidden if I was going to be out of the room.
So many times I wanted to run back home. To see Mama and Daddy and Daisy again. To talk to Tilly and the girls. I had yet to be permitted to visit them and I missed my little cottage by the creek terribly. But I was a marked and mated woman now.
A Luna.
With all of the luxuries that title came with, but none of the freedom.
As for the bruises around my wrist? Let’s just say I’ve learned that Lunas do not have dance parties with random children when visiting Alphas are present.
Apparently it makes the entire pack look weak. My cheeky reply that dancing actually helped with muscle development was highly unappreciated and earned me a sore reminder to “remember my place.”
Pushing those thoughts out of my mind, I step in front of my full-length mirror, checking my reflection for any flaws I may have missed. Clover snickers.
We look like we’re attending our own funeral, she huffs in annoyance.
Clover, if someone dresses me like this for my funeral, I swear to Mother Moon in the Sky that I will come back and haunt them and I will do so in a fabulous patchwork skirt. I smile at my reflection and tilt my head back and forth in a goofy way before straightening up and putting on my grouchy businesswoman face.
Okay girl, I tell my wolf, let’s get this day over with.
~ ~ ~
Malcolm
“You’re positive?” I say into the phone, glaring at Evan, my Beta, as he quietly enters the room and perches on my couch.
“One hundred percent, Alpha Sullivan. It’s not well known, but it’s true.”
I thank the person and slam down the phone, settling back into my desk chair, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples.
“What’s this all about?” Evan asks. “Do I need to pour us drinks?”
I huff a laugh, shaking my head at him. I press my lips together tightly, forcing my emotions back down inside before I speak.
“He’s got a new mate.” I tell my Beta. Evan stiffens.
“Excuse me?” he asks incredulously. “A chosen?” I shake my head.
“Apparently the Moon Goddess felt he was deserving enough to receive a second chance mate.”
Evan shakes his head in disbelief, standing and going over to my liquor stash to pour us each a whiskey. He hands me one of the glasses and sits in the chair across from me. For a long moment, neither of us speaks. I sit and stare into my whiskey, memories from the past washing over me.
“So now what?” He asks. I stare at him coldly as he raises the glass to his lips.
“We take her.” I say, making Evan choke on the liquid. “Hold her captive. As bait.”
“Malcolm. You cannot be serious,” he says to me. “Taking a Luna is punishable by death, you know this.”
“He murdered my sister, Evan. He murdered his own mate, his own Luna!” I say, slamming my fist into the desk, cracking the wood across the top. “He’s not getting away with that.”
My cell alerts me to a new text message and I pick it up, noticing that it’s several pictures from my source. The first is one of the bastard who murdered my sister.
The second is of him walking with a woman who I’m assuming is his new mate. It’s a shot from behind so I can’t get a good look at her. The third shot, however, is of just the woman.
She’s classically beautiful. Honey brown hair, bright green eyes, perfect curves.
She’s gorgeous, but it’s obvious from the picture that they are the perfect pair.
She’s standing, arms folded across her chest, wearing a black pencil skirt and a white button-down shirt. Her hair is in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. I scoff, tossing my phone on the table for Evan to see.
“That’s her?” he asks. I say nothing. Looking at the pictures he nods. “Yeah, I can see it. She looks just as bitchy as he does.”
We sit in silence again, sipping our whiskey as I take the phone back and stare at the woman.
“What do we do with her once he’s dead?” Evan asks. I look up, placing my phone back down on my desk.
“Kill her too.” The words leave my mouth without hesitation. “She’s collateral damage.”
“Malcolm.”
“Evan.”
He sighs
“There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”
I shake my head.
Absolutely nothing in this world is going to stop me from getting revenge on Garrett Blackwood.
- Writer
