Exposed (MSW book 3) [SAMPLE]

Chapter 1 - Dylan

This is a SAMPLE only.

MAY 2022 UPDATE: Go read "Lucy", a spinoff of the Masked SheWolf trilogy, now updating on Wattpad, and its "Behind the Scenes" companion book that includes character profiles and a complete recap of the trilogy, as told by the characters in interview format.

***

It might be the nervousness talking, but I know I'm forgetting something.

My room is a tornado of clothes, shoes, and everything else one needs when moving out, strewn around like a hurricane strode through the place. Last night, everything was neatly packed in my three suitcases. It only took me five minutes to get it all unpacked and go over it again. Although I have gone over the list a billion times, I still have this nagging feeling that something is missing.

Better check again, I decide.

Pants and jeans. Check.

Socks, trainers, boots, running shoes, warm slippers, and my first feminine boots and flats –on the off chance that I'll have an opportunity to wear them. Check.

Sweaters, tops, T-shirts, and the likes, all of which I am as of now classifying as "shirts." Check.

The new bra my best friend Sadie made me get and which took me a whole month to get used to wearing –again, just in case. Check.

My trusted old chest wraps plus two brand new binders. Check.

Skirts, shorts, sandals, high heels, camisoles, tops, and the likes. All safely hidden in this room where no one will ever find them.

Everything is accounted for. I even counted all the hygiene stuff, the electronics, the warmer clothes in case it gets cold. So what the hell am I missing?I have been packing for days now, but I still can't figure this out. I huff and stare at my open suitcase. If only it could talk so it could figure out what I forgot and maybe tell me.

"Stupid suitcase," I mutter.

Frustrated, I kick it once on its side. My foot throbs as it collides with something hard.

"Ow!" I yell and start jumping on one foot while holding the injured one.

Sitting my ass on the bed, I examine the throbbing area for any permanent damage. It's not broken, thankfully. It might have fractures, though. I better not move it for about ten minutes, until it heals.

What the hell was that?I wonder.

Suddenly, I have an inkling. A tradition that my brothers and I have stuck to for years is something we call War Day. One of us is picked to play pranks on by the others every Sunday, and the victim has until the next War Day to retaliate with pranks of their own on the selected pranksters. The victim also gets to select the next target for the next Sunday. It was my brother Nathan's turn last week. I love all four of my brothers equally, but Nathan has a knack for getting on people's nerves, and I picked something extra special for him. Knowing his superb love for Mom's sandwiches and his aversion to spicy food, I lathered the inside of his bread in hot sauce and added red peppers. Today is Saturday, and he has yet to retaliate against my prank.

Suspicious, I drop to the ground next to my suitcase, careful not to apply pressure on my foot. I search it with my hands until I come in contact with whatever I banged my toes against. There is something heavy and hard in the side zipper. I quickly unzip it and pull out a checkered kitchen tile. A crack runs through it horizontally from one side to the other. My foot was probably the cause of that. Fuming, I grip it with both hands, and push against its sides until it breaks at the crack.