02. MISSION

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Feigh

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Feigh

Dylan already explained everything to me, and the plan involved going into the nightclub, acting like an average teenage partygoers. Fernando told us last night that Werewolves tend to chill in areas that radiate a frenzied chaos. Also apparently, they surround themselves with alcohol, cigarettes, and drugs in order to mask their scents.

Did I mention that this was my first time going on a club in my 20 years of existence? My inner self shook her head.

Gosh! I was talking to myself again.

So my bodyguards, or the people who were responsible for 'keeping me safe' as what my nanny Toria said every time I was complaining about it so she wouldn't let me go into any clubs, followed me around wherever I went.

Or doing some night shift rendezvousing.

Even when it was mall-ing. Was that even a word?

Thanks to all the heavens above, I was able to escape them.

For as long as I can remember, I have always been told what to do. Eh, I guess it was fine. I don't care whoever my adopted parents are since they never showed their faces to me. What was the point of adopting me again?

A hiss escaped through my teeth remembering my life with no one except Dylan. Unfortunately, I wasn't even allowed to bring him into the mansion. The mansion really was made for rules, huh?

What bothered me was, I never cried except when I laughed so hard. I don't know why I can't feel emotionally hurt by anything, and it's hard for me to even shed a tear even when I try to convince myself that I was hurt. That's why I've been able to deal with rejection and loneliness.

A male voice interrupted my wandering thoughts, "Fucking beautiful," Deaton. I knew that voice very well. It was like a high pitch tone slash girly.

I looked down at my outfit. My voice was deep in sarcasm, "Gosh! You don't say."

I could sense that he was looking at me with dark anticipation, drowning me with his pupils from head to toe, sizing me up obviously.

Turning around to face him, I swayed my hips as I took two steps in his direction. Raising my right eyebrow to let him know that I don't give a shit about what he had to say, what he had to do. Basically, everything about him.

I already know I was beautiful. Ha!

My maneuver caught him off guard, the smugness in his face was gone and then he went rigid, his muscles locked up, straining against the confines of his clothing. This boy doesn't really like being ignored and left unnoticed without giving him a satisfactory showing flirtatious mannerism.

Well, he can suck his own teeth.

Truthfully, he was hot—minus his pitchy voice, of course. He even tried to court me when I was still at the University but Dylan didn't approve of my suitors because of their backgrounds, though I didn't complain because as much as I don't want to be in a relationship, no one ever caught my attention yet, it wasn't that I didn't care about other people around me, I saw attractive men all over the campus, malls and everywhere but no one makes my pulse sprint through my veins. Leaving me breathless and giving a heat crept along my body. That's what nanny Toria describes when people fall in love.

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