Finding your soulmate in a werewolf community is the greatest thing that could happen to you. But not to Chase.
Chase, the soon-to-be Alpha of the Blue Moon pack, finds his mate. His preference? Someone with a high rank. Yet he's stuck with Ava, an...
I let Julian lead me as he runs, struggling to keep up with his swift strides. I wonder how far it is and if I will ever get there or die from a heart attack due to the stress and exhaustion.
"Is it far?" I ask Julian.
"No," he responds, replacing running with walking. "It's down the road. I'm afraid this is as far as I can get you."
As we approach the packhouse, I squint my eyes and notice my father's car in front of it. He and Xavier are in the driveway, absorbed in a heated conversation. Hopefully, it has nothing to do with me!
"What will you do?" I ask Julian.
"I'll head back," he says. "I need to get a headstart to the palace before you."
I embrace him briefly and land a kiss on his cheek, close to his lips. "Please be careful on the road and remember to send me a text when you arrive so I know you made it safely."
I wave to Julian before jogging to the packhouse.
"Dad, you're here!" I greet him, trying hard to calm my erratic breath and racing heart.
"Where were you?" he asks.
"Running!" I point to the forest. "Astra was anxious to get control."
He raises his eyebrows and eyes me suspiciously. "You went running in a hoodie late in the morning with the sun shining brightly?"
I nod. "I set out early in the morning, and it was chilly."
"It was. That's why Zoey didn't join Sophia," Xavier backs me up.
Thankfully, he drops the subject and doesn't press it further. "Go get your stuff so that we can get going."
Shit! The suitcase is in the car! There's no way Julian is still here.
"Sure," I fake a smile as I walk past my dad and to the packhouse.
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Zoey's eyes light up as she sees me walk in. "You're finally here!" she exclaims, almost jumping out of her skin. Flopping down on the black leather couch, she lets out a dramatic sigh.
"Tell me you have a black suitcase!"
Zoey's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "A what?" she asks, unsure she heard me correctly.
"A black suitcase. I need it ASAP," I repeat, sounding more urgent this time.
Pressing her palms on her knees, she pushes herself up and motions for me to follow her.
As we enter the walk-in closet Zoey shares with Xavier, she rolls out a black suitcase from the corner of the room. "This is the only black suitcase I own. It still has my stuff inside, though," she explains.
I grab the handle eagerly. "Good. That's what I wanted. If you don't mind, I'll borrow it."
Zoey nods, but she looks curious. "Sure, but why do you need a suitcase?" She shuts the door of her and Xavier's room and helps me get the suitcase down the stairs.
I pause, thinking quickly. "I left the palace with a black suitcase. Wouldn't it be suspicious if I returned empty-handed?"
She nods understandingly. "By the way, did you find anything about your adoptive parents?"
"A little, but we'll talk later." I pause. My hand is gripping the door handle when I say, "Things are more complicated than I imagined."
Zoey tugs at my sleeve, looking impatient. "You can't do this to me! You can't throw a ball at me and expect me to wait before I grab it!"
I grin cheekily. "Patience is a virtue!"
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As soon as we enter the palace, my dad beckons me to his office.
I point to the trunk where my suitcase is and ask, "What about my stuff?"
But he brushes it off, saying, "Marquise will bring it inside. Now, follow me." His tone is firm, his fists clenched, and he walks hastily towards the home office.
I can't shake off the feeling that something is off. The way he swiftly dismissed all my excuses makes me wonder if he was on to me and was acting dumb to confront me on his turf.
I follow like a cat with its tail between its legs, my head hung low, and my hands clutching the soft fabric of my sleeves. I sit on the chair and observe as Dad shuffles through his cupboard.
"Do you know what this is?" He throws a packet of papers on the desk.
I refuse to answer and instead shake my head.
"I asked you something. I am expecting an answer."
"Idon't know what you're talking about!" I deny it, staring anywhere but at him.
"My patience is wearing thin. Talk before I make you!" Dad snaps back so hard.
"Look, tell me what you want to hear and I'll say it."
"Explain this then." He takes a folder from his pocket, reaches in, and throws photos next to the papers.
I'm doomed!
"I can explain." I reply meekly.
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