Lone Wolf (The Pack 5) - Page 45

I won’t lie. It was more tempting than I realized, I admitted, the words coming out easier under the cloak of darkness. But it still wasn’t enough to make me leave you. Her head nestled next to mine as our fingers wove together, the position a familiar one since we’d done it a thousand times growing up. I wish there was an easy answer, Paige, but life….it doesn’t work that way.

Then why do all the stories end with happily ever after?

Because, I paused, exhaling as I tried to find the right words, because happiness is a choice…one that belongs to each of us. The words came out haltingly, but I knew they were true. We make our own happiness. We can’t depend on others to do it for us. We make our choices and we live with them.

But what if others dictate our choice? Paige argued and I turned my head, kissing her forehead as I told her a hard truth.

Because it’s still our choice even if we don’t like the options.

Like staying.

No, not like staying, I denied, stroking her hair. Staying….I’ll never regret staying with you, little sister.

She didn’t comment, snuggling against me. Sleep here? She asked, squeezing my hand like she had a thousand times before and I nodded, no longer sleepy, but content to lay there with her until she fell asleep.

Thoughts chased themselves in a never ending loop as I tried to decipher the conversation I’d overheard. I knew it must have something to do with the hunters, but my mind shied away from the implications. Logic would tell me they’d intended to sell Caleb to the hunters, but why? Why would she do that? What purpose would it serve?

Memories of other shifters she had tortured over the years drifted through my mind. I’d always assumed they’d died, but what if she’d sold them as well? And if she had, why hadn’t she done it to me?

A soft snore escaped Paige and I eased my arm out from under her, careful not to disturb her. She might not be able to hear, but all her other senses made up for the lack. I carefully got dressed, shoving my feet into a pair of too tight boots, and wiggled my toes uncomfortably. I wasn’t used to wearing shoes, but tonight I wasn’t running, I was hunting and I wanted to make damn sure they heard me coming.

***

My first stop left me frustrated when I didn’t find him, and my plodding pace in the boots irritated me until I finally yanked them off and left them at the edge of the forest. Once my toes were free to dig into the soft earth, I could breathe again. It only took a few deep breaths to pick up his trail and I stalked him to a clearing where he was talking on a phone.

I cocked my head, surprised, since I’d thought only Gran kept a phone. “Full of secrets, aren’t you, Strickland?” I murmured, watching him intently.

“Don’t worry. I have it. I just need time.” He paused, listening to whoever spoke and through I strained I couldn’t pick up on the other person’s words. “Trust me, this is better.”

His heart beat faster than normal and the sickly scent of nerves filled the air as he defied Gran and betrayed all of us. My fingers curled into my palms as my nails lengthened, growing sharp and deadly and as he ended the call, I crept up behind him.

He froze as a single nail settled on his jugular, the slightest pressure enough to send it piercing through his skin and ending his life. “Whatcha doing, Strickland?” I whispered in his ear then watched as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “It sounded oh so interesting.”

“No-nothing,” he stammered. I hummed noncommittally. “I swear, Drusilla. It was nothing.”

I pressed the tip of my finger down until the coppery scent of blood met my nose. “I’m afraid I just don’t believe you.”

“It was the hunters,” he burst out. “The same ones you saw me with in the woods the other day.” I retracted my nail from his throat at that little tidbit of news and he took the opportunity to spin away from me. He held up his hands, keeping a careful eye on me. “I knew you were there after I saw the boars. Those dumbasses,” he shook his head, “They wouldn’t know a wolf kill from a bear kill, much less that those two boars didn’t kill each other.”

“You didn’t say anything,” I commented, clicking my still lethally sharp nails together as I considered this new information.

“No, I’m not stupid,” he retorted, his jowls jiggling as he dabbed the sweat off his forehead. “Your Gran would have strung me up by my ball sack.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I can assure you she would have done far worse.”

Tags: Kristin Coley The Pack Fantasy
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