"Lindsey? When did you and Timothy, you know, go all the way? Like, how long did you wait?"
She looks up from her plate and says, "How long? I don't know, maybe around two weeks."
"Two weeks? Really?"
"It's not like I'm unsure about my feelings for him. The mate bond is for life—there won't be anyone else. Why wait when you're with your soulmate?"
I poke around at the breakfast Helena sent. It arrived just as I did, so Lindsey and I decided to eat together at her guest house. The windows are open and a near-summer breeze passes through, blowing softly against my skin before drifting throughout the rooms. She has everything bright and open and the morning has never felt more welcomed.
"Why do you ask?" She questions, "Have you not—"
"I was thinking that we could help in the community gardens after we eat. Helena is always telling me about it, and she wanted me to pick some berries. She said there's a ton of blueberries and blackberries, and if we get them, she'll make us some jams. Maybe if there's enough strawberries we can dip them in chocolate—"
"I'd love to pick berries," Lindsey says. "But I wouldn't guess it's something you'd be interested in."
I shrug. "Jeremy wants me to have a selfless, handy reputation. He said it's beneficial for Lunas to appear as a very giving person to the pack. So I figured helping grow food fits the image."
"I would say so."
"Besides, from what we saw yesterday on your tour, the gardens look kinda pretty with all those big, green leaves everywhere."
After breakfast, we head over to the garden. The sky is cluttered with dense, white clouds, and they float in front of the sun, drawing giant shadows over and past us. I think about asking Lindsey if she would like to go for a run later. I'm sure it will only confuse her more—I rarely went for runs unless prompted to by my mother—but ever since I did with David, I've been wanting to let my wolf out again.
Lindsey talks about Timothy and his possible promotion at the community center. She says he could likely be calling the shots in a few years, so I say, "That would be great. No one puts in more work there than him. How old is Perry anyway? He has to retire sometime."
I respond and grasp the essential parts of the conversation, but my mind drifts elsewhere. I think about this morning and feel an immediate impatience to go to sleep tonight. Will he want to be close again, or was it just last night? Should I be less consumed by cuddling and more worried about his past—the painful truths about other girls who are utter mysteries; girls from mysterious places and who may very well remain nameless? Am I stupid for pushing it to the back of my mind?
I notice Lindsey has stopped talking. Her eyes squint as she looks ahead; she's always been a little more near-sighted. I look in the same direction and see a few people standing in the gardens, speaking to one another. A young woman around our age shoves the man across from her and shouts at him. He backs off, and the other man there tries to reason with the woman.
"What's going on?" Lindsey asks.
I slowly continue toward them, wondering if it's a Luna's duty to insert herself in such a situation. "Maybe they're just arguing," I consider.
The woman pushes the other man off and continues towards her victim. He insists on backing off, but she's determined. She's breathing so heavy that I can see her whole chest open and stretch. Lindsey grabs my arm. I peer back and she gives me a look. She wants to leave.
I open my mouth to tell her to wait a second, but the other man yells. My head snaps back just as the woman shifts. She's so fast—it's the one thing I can comprehend before she's pouncing on the back of her victim—unshifted himself. Lindsey screams when her teeth dig into his skin, when her jaw clamps down and refuses to let go. The man, bitten into, tries to shift to defend himself or attempt an escape, but before he can finish, she snaps at his partially-transformed throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut—flinching.
Lindsey is hysterical, grabbing me and pulling me back. Her breaths are ragged and incomplete, and so many more voices join the mix of sounds bustling in my head. I dare myself to look back, and when I do, a small crowd of people has surrounded the body—whether or not he is alive, I'm not sure. There are too many people. I can't see.
From the strength of her bite, I can only assume the man is unmoving—gone the moment her teeth punctured again, the second she turned her head, drawing his soul from his body.
The woman is contained, tackled, and held-down by two other wolves. She snaps and squirms relentlessly.
"Brigette!" Lindsey shouts. "Let's go!"
"I-I need to get David," I mutter, unsure of where to focus my attention.
"Where is he? Let's go to him. Let's go right now."
"I don't know. He could be anywhere. I-I just know he's—he's with Tarlo."
I give into Lindsey and let her take me wherever she pleases. All I can think about, all I can see is the second she—she bit down on his neck. Is it still attached? His head? Or is it rolled to the side like some comical cartoon? The smell—so pungent and metallic—it's inescapable. Lindsey grips my shirt and I watch as she bends over and vomits into the grass. She lets out a sob.
I want to crumble to the ground and curl into a ball, squeezing and folding until I disappear. If I think about the—the body, then I'll lose it, so I have to distract myself. If searching for David keeps my head out of the grave, then I'll run every inch of the land until I find him, and then he'll know what to do. David will know how to handle this. He'll tell me how everything will be alright, and how there's no need for me to worry. He won't let anything bad happen. But—something bad did happen. That man is dead.
"Goddess, Brigette," Lindsey breathes, wiping her mouth. "Is this normal? Do people just—just kill each other here? What kind of pack is this? What's going on? M-Maybe you should come home. You can't stay here. It's not safe. You have to call your parents. You have to tell them what's happening here."
"David will know what to do," I insist. "He's a good Alpha, and I'm sure he would never let things like this happen."
"But it did happen. Goddess' sake, we just watched it happen!"
"Just calm down, alright? We have to calm down. We have to collect ourselves."
Lindsey shakes her head and paces. "Let's go back to the house. I'm sure someone has already informed the Alpha. The safest place for us to be right now is in the Alpha's house."
The thought of sharing our experience with Helena makes me feel better, so I agree and we hurry back the way we came. Surely she will give me what I'm looking for—shock, disbelief, the same fear that's eating away at my own gut. The entire walk back, Lindsey's eyes survey our surroundings like a prisoner slipping out of her cell. It's as if another murderous shifter will come storming at us, ruthlessly tearing our throats. Was it just one bad apple, or is the entire crop tainted with a deadly rage? This feels like one of those dreams I have where I beg myself to wake up to stop the horror, but no matter how hard I wish and plead, this isn't a dream, and I don't wake in my mate's arms.
"Helena!" I call into the house. "Helena, a man is dead!"
My eyes aim down the hall to the kitchen, but footsteps patter like rain from upstairs and trickle down the staircase. I hurry to the bottom and she stops midway on the steps. "What is it? Who's died?" She asks, compelled in disbelief.
"Lindsey and I—I don't even know who. A man. This woman just killed him out there by the garden."
"Murder?" She comes down the rest of the way.
"It must be. She shifted and attacked him. They were yelling before, but I can't think of anything justifiable enough to—to do that."
Her eyes are wide. Never have I seen her so taken-back. Lindsey excuses herself to call her mate as Helena and I discuss more in the kitchen. She turns off the heat on the stove, pausing whatever is boiling in the pot on top of it. "Where is the Alpha?"
I shake my head. "We left so fast—Lindsey said we had to go. It wasn't safe to stay, but I'm sure David is over there by now."
"Well, then we'll wait. We'll stay inside until he comes home."
I take a breath and sit at the counter. "I just can't believe it. I've never seen anything like that. It was so casual as if killing was no big deal to her. I wish I knew these people better; maybe I could have recognized who they were. Is that normal? Do people here just kill each other?"
Helena says, "No. I've never heard of such things. In my lifetime the only killings concerned rogues."
"That's what I thought. Goddess, I wonder what David is thinking right now."
"He'll get everything under control. I'm sure there's an explanation behind all of this. Maybe that woman was out of her mind."
"What if—what if that was... No, never mind. It's impossible."
Helena comes around the counter. "Her mate? You're right; it is impossible."
I sigh and drop my head into my hands. "This whole thing is messing with me," I mutter.
Lindsey enters the kitchen and I lift my gaze. She slowly comes over and sits down beside me, swallowing and clasping her hands together. "Well, Timothy is worried. He thinks I should come home."
"Of course. I understand. He must think it's unsafe here, and if you want to go, that's okay," I tell her, disappointed yet refusing to be anything other than accommodating.
"Thank you, Brigette, but I don't know what to do yet. What's happening is scary, but I don't want to leave yet, not when I don't know the next time we'll see each other."
I nod. "I promise you David can give us some insight. Let's just calm down and relax for now, catch our breath, okay?"
"Okay."
Helena offers, "How does a cup of tea sound?"
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