This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,91

I don’t know who or what took them down, but the other covens are still fighting over her territory. Once they resolve their issues, I’ll be able to negotiate with the winner to access the forest again. Until then, we can’t run or shelter in the forests. We don’t want to get caught up in their war.”

I should be tired, but I’m buzzing by the time we return to the clock tower and reenter the elevator.

“I want to patrol the central bridge for the next few nights,” I say. “It’s the quickest route from the Eastern Lowland to your home here. I know my half-brother. He’s lazy. If he’s going to attack again, he’ll enter via that bridge.”

“If you’re ready,” Tristan says.

I sense his uncertainty. When I was confronted with Dawson’s violent treatment of Carly and Becca after Tristan brought them to Hidden House, I nearly had a panic attack. It hasn’t even been a week since then, but a lot has changed. “I’m certain.”

Tristan leans against the other side of the elevator. “I need you to come with me to the pack meeting this evening when I let everyone know what’s going on. Iyana and Danika will show you where that is.” The corner of his mouth rises into a fleeting smile. “It could be better if you’re wearing something a little more intimidating when you get there.”

I cast a quick glance at my jeans and flannel shirt. “This is all I have.”

Tristan shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter.

The doors open to the tenth floor and I step outside.

Tristan gives me a formal nod before the elevator closes again.

I stare at the doors, resisting the urge to use the security card in my pocket already. Freedom is an unfamiliar feeling after the last two months of not-quite-captivity.

Spinning on my heel, I find myself being quietly observed by a little girl, who doesn’t appear much older than two years. She’s holding the hand of a well-loved cloth doll, smudged with floor dust, that looks like it’s been dragged alongside her a few too many times. She has vivid, brown eyes and dark brown hair.

There are no adults in sight.

“Hello,” I say, thrown by the little girl’s bright and curious stare. “Where do you live?”

This floor feels vast. I sight down the corridor to all of the doors that must lead into apartments.

She points toward an open door three doors down on the left and then lifts her arms up to me, as if she expects me to carry her there. “Up.”

After learning how to flip grown men onto their backs in a fight, she weighs nearly nothing as I prop her on my hip. She promptly sticks the doll’s arm in her mouth and sucks on it. I catch a flash of growing incisors before we reach the open door.

I pause when I sense several female shifters inside, their voices wafting out to me before I can knock.

“Why can’t she stay somewhere else?” a woman with a mature voice says. “She’s not even a normal shifter.”

My hand freezes inches away from the open door. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’re talking about me. They won’t realize that I’m here. My scent is so much under my control that even Tristan can’t scent me and they’re likely to be so engrossed in their conversation that they won’t be listening for intruders.

“She’s not like us,” another woman says. This one sounds sour, unhappy. “I heard she doesn’t even have a wolf. I don’t understand why Tristan brought her here. Her pack wanted to kill her. He should have let them.”

Ouch. I tell myself to let it roll off me.

A third woman speaks up. At the sound of her younger voice, the little girl’s eyes brighten, so I can only assume she’s the girl’s mother. “Did you hear what she did yesterday morning?” the young woman asks. “She beat the absolute shit out of Bridget—”

“Yes, and we all know what had to happen after that.” The sour woman snaps. There’s a clunk that sounds like she thumps a glass down on a table. “Jace isn’t telling us anything, but Tristan was with that…” She splutters. “Woman… for a full twenty-four hours before they were seen again this morning.”

The younger lady responds with a laugh. “Well, maybe Tessa is an almighty good fuck.”

“Watch your language, Jemimah!” The first woman—the oldest—sounds overly shocked, but her voice carries a smothered laugh.

The sour woman makes a disgusted sound, but the young woman asserts, “I