Ten minutes later, I was in a pair of black leggings, a hooded sweatshirt, and an old baseball cap I'd pulled low over my eyes. I looked like any other twenty-something girl heading to a late-night gym, not the Luna of the most powerful pack in the region.
Marisol led me through the dark servant corridors. We reached the iron door that led to the delivery docks.
"The guards rotate at the hour," Marisol whispered. "You have three minutes. Go."
She squeezed my hand. "Good luck, sister."
I slipped out into the biting night air. The scent of early night pack air hit me, and for a second, my wolf took the reins. My senses sharpened, knowing I had to look before leaping.
"Left, behind the crates," Nyla commanded. "The guard on the tower is checking his phone. Why am I not surprised? Gideon hires the laziest warriors because they're easier to control."
Hey! Don't talk about my husband like that! I scolded her and vaulted over the low perimeter wall, my boots hitting the dirt on the other side with a soft thud.
I was out.
To reach the human city, I had to walk through the lower village of the Lupin pack—the residential area where the heart of our people lived. I kept my head down, my hands shoved deep into my pockets, but I couldn't block out the voices.
As I passed the Silver Moon Tavern, a group of wolves was loitering outside, reeking of cheap ale and bitterness.
"Did you see her at the funeral?" a man scoffed. "Looked like a stiff breeze would blow her over. How's she supposed to lead us?"
A woman replied with a sharp laugh. "She isn't. Gideon's the one running the show now. Thank the Moon for him, honestly. Without a strong male at the helm, the Vanes would have moved in by sundown. Elowen's nothing but bad luck. First her mother, then her father, then the heir? She's a walking curse."
"I'd like to show her a 'walking curse' right across her windpipe," Nyla growled, her hackles rising in my mind.
Ignore them, I told her, though their wounds stung like salt on a wound. They only see what Gideon wants them to see and that's necessary.
"I heard she went haywire at the council meeting," another voice added. "Slapped a Rogue King. Actually slapped him! She's losing her mind. The grief has finally broken her."
"Gideon's probably just waiting for the year to be up so he can officially declare her unfit," the first man said. "He's a saint for staying with her, if you ask me."
I picked up my pace, my heart thundering. At least, they weren't totally against all Goldbanes… just me.
I finally reached the edge of the territory and flagged down a human taxi that was dropping someone off at the nearby train station. The driver didn't look twice at me as to him, I was just a girl in a hoodie with a destination.
"St. Jude's Medical Plaza," I instructed, climbing in.
.
.
The human city was a sensory assault with bright lights, the hum of engines, and the overwhelming, muddled scent of thousands of people who couldn't smell me back. It was anonymous. It was perfect.
I stepped out of the cab in front of the medical plaza. Dr. Aris's office was on the fourth floor. My pulse started racing. 'This was it. The moment I took my life back', I thought to myself.
I reached the fourth-floor elevators and stepped out, heading toward the suite at the end of the hall. But as I rounded the corner, I froze. Coming out of the office directly across from the doctor's was a woman I recognized instantly.
Greta.
She was the pack's unofficial Minister of Information—which was a polite way of saying she was a professional gossip who could spread a rumor faster than a wildfire. She was clutching the hand of her young son, her head swiveling around as she looked for her car keys.
My blood ran cold. If Greta saw the Luna of the Lupin pack at a human medical plaza at midnight, the news would be back at the estate before I could even find a seat in the waiting room.
"Oh, crap," I breathed, spinning on my heel.
"Abort! Abort!" Nyla shouted. "She has the nose of a bloodhound and the mouth of a megaphone! If she catches our scent, we're finished!"
I didn't wait and bolted for the stairwell, my heart battering in my throat. I flew down the four flights of stairs, my breath coming in jagged gasps. I burst out of the side exit and into the alleyway that ran behind the plaza.
I leaned against the brick wall with a heaving chest. I'd failed. I couldn't go back in there tonight, not with Greta lurking in the vicinity.
I walked away, putting distance between myself and the hospital. I needed another way. However, I halted abruptly. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The air behind me suddenly felt heavier.
Nyla caught it and whispered, "We're being followed. One person. Heavy stride. He's not even trying to be quiet. It's like he's… mocking us?"
What? Shit.
I didn't look back. Well, I knew this game. My father had trained me to fight long before he'd trained me to lead. I turned the corner into a narrow gap between a brick warehouse and a dumpster. I stepped behind a thick concrete pole, my back flat against the cold surface, and waited.
The footsteps grew closer. I observed the rhythms of his steps; they were slow. Nyla was right, whoever it was, they were either very stupid or very dangerous. The shadow lengthened on the ground in front of me. I waited for the exact moment the figure passed the edge of the pole.
"Now!" I hissed.
I swung around, putting all my weight into a low, sweeping kick designed to shatter a kneecap. It was a move meant to drop a grown man in seconds. But my foot never connected with anything.
A large, calloused hand, faster than a strike of lightning, snatched my ankle out of mid-air. The force of the stop sent a jolt of shock up my leg, and I lost my balance.
"Easy, love," a deep, dark baritone reverberated through the shadows. "You'll pull a muscle if you keep that up."
With a sharp tug, he pulled my leg toward him, forcing me to hop on one foot to keep from face-planting into the asphalt. I looked up, the hood of my sweatshirt falling back to reveal my face. Storm-blue eyes looked down at me, dancing with a mischievous light.
It was him… Jarek Ashthorne.