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Illyria took a deep steadying breath before she stepped out into the clearing. She was all too aware that she looked like shit. She was still in her dress from the party, but her arms were coated in blood and her hair... well her hair ended up okay, surprisingly. Her face however, she was sure was bruised, with a lip split, a purple cheek, her eyes red and squinty from her lack of sunlight. Illyria still wasn't exactly sure how long she was taken.

Despite her appearance she walked with the confidence her status afforded her. She was a Warrior goddammit, and a Luna. Technically. She walked with her shoulders back and her chin lifted. Her eyes focused straight on the door to the pack house; not on Pack Members, and certainly not on Tristyn.


Tristyn's broken whisper stopped her in her tracks. The power that that one word held over her was both terrifying and thrilling. It sent her reeling, and she had to fight the urge to run over to him, to be in his arms. "Please," he said again, and Illyria turned to face him, tears pricking her eyes as she finally got a look at him. He looked terrible; rugged and rabid. She wasn't sure which was more accurate but he really did look as broken as his voice sounded.

She opened her mouth as though to speak, even though she was at a lost for words, but someone else spoke first and their voice brought forth her wolf. Her angry wolf.

"Illyria?" Michael spoke, his eyes widening as he came to stop infront of her. "You!" Her wolf yelled, her eyes as black as pitch as she began to shake. Alpha Nick and Alpha Logan started to step forward but she growled, and surprisngly they stood down, although not before sharing a confused and skeptical look. "Shit," Michael whispered, slowly backing away from her while she stalked forward. "Illyria?" Tristyn asked, sounding less broken, more confused. Illyria's wolf calmed, meeting Tristyn's eyes for one second before turning back to Michael. "You think it's okay to try and trick me Michael?" Michael tripped, landing hard on his backside but still trying to get away. "N-n-no,"

"No?" Illyria asked, her voice calm and soft, which was terrifying in itself as her eyes still swirled black. Michael gulped, slowly crawling towards the porch steps. "Ill, what are you saying?" Tristyn asked, coming to stand inbetween her and Michael. "Tristyn. Get out of my way."

"Illyria. Answer me."

"Tristyn. Out. Now."

"Answer me!" He began to shake, his wolf obviously disliking the disrespect she was showing him. Illyria could care less, she was hurt and she was angry, and right now Michael made the perfect chew toy for her to take her anger out on. "He was the reason I was taken. He's a fucking traitor Tristyn."

Tristyn's eyes narrow, deep throaty growls escape from his chest as Illyria glares at him, Michael still trying to crawl away from the conflict. Illyria scoffs, her anger dissipitating as she watches Tristyn. With her wolf no longer out for blood the only thing she feels is sadness, he was her best friend.

"Whatever," Illyria whispers tiredly, more to herself than anyone else, before pushing past Tristyn and Michael and walking into the pack house. Her eyes drooped as she followed the familiar path through the house to her bedroom. Tired, injured, emotionally damaged, and dirty, Illyria found herself fully dressed and sitting on the marble floor of her shower, the rhythmic pounding of warm water cascading around her where she numbly sat.

After an hour the water began to run cold and Illyria reluctantly stood to sleep. Her body ached and she felt compelled to stay under the water. The seering temperature had long ago burnt the dirt from her body, even a layer of skin she suspected. It was cleansing. To sit under the shower head and allow the water to burn away all of the recent events. While sitting under those showers she could close her eyes and pretend like the last few weeks hadn't happened.

That she hadn't left her cousins pack. That she hadn't fought with Tristyn. That she hadn't found her mate. That she hadn't been kidnapped.

She couldn't help but hate her current pridicament. The one person she truly relied on didn't want her, the one person who was truly supposed to love her didn't want her. The one person –

Knocking interrupted Illyria from her thoughts, and she was suddenly alert. Closing the tap and silently stepping towards the bathroom door, dripping all over the marble floor. Her hand poised on the doorknob as she listened intently for noise on the otherside of the door. There was the rustling of covers and then something that sounded like a chip packet tearing. Illyria was puzzled until she heard Jess's familiar voice ring out.

"Get dressed you mong. I've got ice cream and Love Actually on bluray."

Illyria sighed while struggling to peel off her drenched clothes. "I don't have a TV." Illyria listened for Jess's response as she dried herself off with a fluffy black towel and pulled on a fresh pair of underwear followed by a shirt that smelt faintly of Tristyn.

Yeah, it hurt to be reminded of him, but it hurt more to be completely cut off from him.

Jess threw a pillow at the bathroom door, narrowly missing Illyria as she stepped out. "I've got my laptop, loser." 

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