them to teach those Rockhead dicks a lesson for messing with Addie. It all went great, until that prick Drag noticed me. The same bald-headed douche who tried to grab me when I first got into town.
He made it known that not only did he hold a grudge against me for kicking his and his friend’s ass that day on the sidewalk, but that he’d also found out information about me.
He must’ve researched which shifters have registered collars, and then matched mine to what Kaazu uses. They know I ran from Troupe Delirium. He blurted it out clear as day, the threat obvious.
Drag wanted me to know that they know. He wants me to stew. To worry. To do something stupid.
There’s no doubt in my mind that they’re going to do something with this information. I just don’t know when or how.
I should’ve left right then and there. I should’ve walked away so that I don’t bring any trouble to this pack. But I convinced myself to stay to make sure Addie was alright. Convinced myself that I have to get this collar off first, if I have any hope of blending in as just a normal, un-owned rogue. I also have something going for me—and that’s all the phone calls I made sure Kaazu got. The false leads I left like scattered breadcrumbs should buy me a little time.
I keep armoring myself with excuses, even as my shoulders weigh down with guilt.
The male shifter—Luca—looks at me with sympathy. “I’m sorry,” he says, as he sets down his bolt cutters.
“It’s fine,” I say, hopping down from the bench.
Dusting my jean shorts off, I turn and start walking through the mechanic’s shop, heading out the open garage.
“Jetta.”
I stiffen at the alpha’s voice and stop. I don’t turn around, but I cock my head to the left to let him know I’m listening.
“It’s clear that this isn’t working. Your collar might be broken, but all of the magic isn’t gone. I’m going to track down a conjurer that I know. Someone who can help.”
“I don’t trust conjurers,” I reply.
“This one is different.”
I shrug like it doesn’t matter at all. “Whatever.”
Not giving any of them a chance to talk to me anymore, I exit the shop and head out into the night. Luca’s shop is only about a five minute walk back to the warehouse where I’ve been staying, but I’m not going back to my room just yet. A longer walk will give me time to think.
This pack means well, but there’s always someone sticking their nose in my business, whether it’s Addie and one of her mates or one of the damn enforcers. Someone is always around. They’re always popping up to ask how I’m doing or if I need anything, or just being so damn friendly that it makes me want to scream.
My troupe wasn’t like this. My troupe was secretive, manipulative, constantly trading loyalties and then stabbing each other in the back. You had to sleep with one eye open, because everyone was out for themselves, and Kaazu used that, pitting us against each other, cultivating hate and mistrust. It made for better fights.
This pack is almost disconcerting in their loyalty. They’re a family, which just makes me feel Cliff’s loss even more keenly.
Listening to the sounds of my combat boots crunching over the dry dirt of the road, I try to calm my racing heart. I raise my hand up to the bulky collar around my neck, hooking my fingers beneath it. It’s just loose enough that I can get two fingers under, but it’s like a taunt, letting the sensitive skin at my neck feel the whisper of freedom in the form of a night breeze.
I drop my hand again, my eyes scowling at the night air in front of me. I don’t feel the slight chill in the air against my legs, clad only in a pair of ripped shorts. I wouldn’t even feel it if I took off my leather jacket. My anger burns too hot for the cold to touch me.
I know this because I have been angry my entire life.
As long as I can remember, that anger has been a part of me, like a coal smoldering in my gut.
And maybe it’s strange, but I like my anger. It’s a fuel. A wall. A sort of comfort, even. It’s always there when I need it. It doesn’t leave me to deal with life alone. It doesn’t back down. My anger has made me