Chapter Thirteen
• Aubrey •
One thought keeps turning over and over in my mind: I might just kill myself if I have to spend another day in this godforsaken place.
I lean against the windowsill, gazing down at the barren ground. The sky is entirely white, as if it’s going to snow, but the sun peeks out from behind the clouds. The cold follows me as I trail my fingers across the glass, trying not to see Ben as he shattered the window. If I shut my eyes tight enough, I can pretend it never happened.
I never can shut my eyes tight enough.
I feel like this house is changing me― like it’s making me into something that I despise. I’m living in a shark tank, and all of my hope is bleeding out. The longer that I stay here, the more I lose sight of who I am.
Twining my fingers together, I repeat my mantra, desperately trying to cling to a piece of myself. My name is Aubrey Jenner. I am the descendant. I will not hurt the ones I love. I am a murderer, but that does not make me a monster. I am not a monster. I am not a monster I am not a monster I am not―
My eyes snap open, the sound of someone knocking on the door. A shiver runs through me as my feet touch the chilled ground, the floorboards creaking beneath me. When the door swings open, I expect to see Roxanne or Jake or maybe even Paul― but my visitor is someone new. Confusion settles over me as I take in a girl with dreadlocks; she leans against the doorframe, a smirk pulling on her thin lips. This is the same girl who accused me of killing Liz, the hunter carved up by the kanima; the same girl who attacked Scott and who I almost killed.
I narrow my eyes, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “What do you want?”
Her smile grows, a subtle menace. She puts a hand against her heart, feigning hurt. “Wow, Aubrey. With that tone, it makes me think you don’t want to see me.”
“What do you want?” I growl again, careful to enunciate every syllable. Claws spring from the tips of my fingers.
Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and the smile drops from her face. She straightens, looking almost uncomfortable, and lets out a long sigh. When she speaks, her voice is laced with honesty. “Look, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to talk.”
Something in her tone surprises me, and I don’t make a move to stop her when she brushes past me into the room. Her fingers trail over the walls, her steps slightly uneven. “Nice place. If you like the whole ‘I killed my interior decorator’ kind of look.” She stops at the window, tracing the memory of a spiral in the glass. I wait for her to speak, hovering tentatively by the door. I can see the tension lining her shoulders, and she taps her nails on the windowsill before whirling around, uncertainty etched onto her face. “We never really were properly introduced― didn’t really have the time to chat while we were trying to tear each other’s throats out. I’m Zella, by the way. I wanted to... to apologize. About the last time we met.”
“That’s what you came here for? To apologize?”
Her gaze skims the ground, a sad, rueful smile flashing across her lips. “Not really,” she admits, all poised and calm. “But I felt it might be a good place for us to start. Especially if we were to form an alliance.”
“Alliance?” My body goes stiff with shock, but realization quickly dawns on me. “Paul put you up to this, didn’t he?” My anger grows into a thicker, darker cloud with every second of her silence. “Didn’t he? He wanted to expand upon our agreement and screw me over! Well, you tell him that I already made him a promise, but if he tries to cross me, I can just as easily―”
She throws her hands up in defense, her fingers shaking just the tiniest bit. “I’m not here because of Paul. This has absolutely nothing to do with him. He and I want separate things.” She turns away from the window completely and moves towards me, her gaze locking on mine. The dulled, haunted look in her eyes makes me shiver. “We may be friends, but that doesn’t mean that we have the same desires.”
She stands so close to me now, an everlasting fire burning within her― the same fire growing in my heart. A dangerous, all-consuming fire. When I find my words, my voice is a trail of smoke. “And what do you desire?”
“I want Roxanne’s head on a stake,” she whispers, menace creeping behind her teeth. “I want there to be a change in command.”
I back away from her, heart tripping over my ribcage. “Wait a minute. I don’t want to lead this pack. If that’s what you’re trying to make happen, I don’t want any part of it. I don’t even want to be here.”
She rolls her eyes, pursing her darkened lips. “Aubrey, I’m pretty sure this whole house is aware of how much you hate this place. Do you really think I’d be so stupid as to ask you to lead us? The very people you despise?”
“I don’t despise―”
“Please. There’s not a single person in this house you would save if the building was on fire.” She perches lightly on the edge on the bed, cocking her head in consideration. “Except maybe that blond little boytoy of yours.”
My hands tighten into fists by my sides. “You’re not winning any favors here―”
She brushes my irritation aside, calculation hiding in her icy, cerulean eyes. “Oh no, I’m not here to judge what you do behind closed doors. Except you might want to wash the sheets― it reeks of hormones in here.” I contemplate how difficult it would be to rip her throat out before she continues, “Anyway, are you ready to listen to what I have to offer? Have I built up the suspense enough?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I let the words escape from between my teeth. “Fine. What, pray tell, does your vision of the future look like?”
“Like I said, I want Roxanne’s head on a stake,” she says, pursing her lips with contempt. “The thrill of power has corrupted her. She’s conniving and manipulative, and she definitely shouldn’t be in the position of leading this pack. She cares more about herself than any one of us.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. Really, it took you this long to notice? I dig my fingernails into my arm softly to try to diffuse the tension created by her words. Loyalties are shifting, and I feel like a once shimmering empire is collapsing around me.
“She uses us for her power plays and doesn’t think about the consequences or the aftermath. Doesn’t account for casualties and doesn’t care. She treats us as if we’re all pawns in her game― as if we don’t matter! She makes decisions based on what’s best for her personal gain, rather than what’s best for the pack. All she cares about is winning this forsaken war and getting to the top, no matter how many people she has to sacrifice to get there!” She takes a rattling breath, her composure breaking. It’s the first explicit sign that something’s wrong, because there’s nothing else to suggest her inner agony. Her voice is level, only breaking slightly, and her eyes are stripped of all emotion.
That’s when it hits me: This war isn’t something that’s coming. It’s already started.
It’s already having an effect on everyone in its path, bringing casualties on both sides.
Realization dawns on me, my eyes widening ever so slightly. “You’re talking about the hunter the kanima killed. You’re talking about Liz.”
Her eyes flit to mine, her irises swimming with things left unsaid. Anguish, grief, regret, despair. Everything that was warring inside of me is mirrored in her gaze, and I can hear the quiver of her heart when she whispers, “Yes. I’m talking about Liz.”
“You loved her, didn’t you?” I let my words hover in the air as she bites her lip and returns her gaze to the window, as if she’s waiting for the soldiers to come back home. Something that Ben wrote in his letter floats through my mind: It’s okay to grieve over something that you’ve lost― that is what makes you human. It only takes a second to make the decision to cross the room and place my hand on her shoulder.
She smiles faintly, the ghost of it reflected in the glass. When she speaks, her voice is steadier than I would have expected. “Now you know why I need to see Roxanne dead. If Liz were here… if she were here, she would probably tell me that revenge never accomplished anything. But I need for Roxanne to suffer― I need for her to be taken care of. I figured you wouldn’t be too opposed to that.”
I scoff lightly, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “No, I definitely am not opposed to it. It’s something I’ve wanted for a while, and you make a compelling case, but… but what’s your plan for the aftermath? Who’s going to take over after her death?”
She grins at that, an elongated, vicious smile. Her eyes alight with ferocious fire, face smeared with war paint. “No one is going to take over after she’s dead. Don’t you see? We’re a pack full of alphas, Aubrey. There shouldn’t be anyone leading us― we’re the leaders.”
A small thrill runs through me, despite my hatred fear disgust. There is something undeniably appealing about having no head alpha. About claiming our birthrights, our victories― about letting our eyes shine scarlet while we clasp power between our bloody claws. The tiniest of smiles appears on my face, and I shake away the thought as fast as it had come. “This pack would be uncontrollable with no leader. Tell me that you don’t think half of the people here would kill someone if Roxanne let them, and I’ll believe you.”
She opens her mouth, her protest freezing before the words can even form. Without a leader, the alpha pack would be thrown into chaos. Part of me visualizes a world where the members of the alpha pack are allowed to take whatever they desire, with no thought to the consequences. Rivers of bloods flow through my irises, valleys of bones painted against the backs of my eyelids. I try to ignore the slight flutter of my heart against my ribcage. I am not a monster I am not a monster I am―
“Unless,” Zella says, her eyes lighting with an idea as she paces in front of the window. “Unless after Roxanne’s death, the alpha pack disbands all together. This many alphas in one place was never a good idea to begin with.”
You think? My fingers drum against my thighs as the gears in my brain turn, revealing more problems than solutions. “So the alpha pack disbands. Now there’s a bunch of alphas running around by themselves, and what’s the first thing that they’re going to do? They’re going to seek a pack. We can’t have a bunch of werewolves going around randomly biting people. Too much of a risk.” I feel a little bit more of me fall away, my mind a toxic stream of watered-down morals. I don’t mean too much risk for the humans― I mean it’s too much of a chance of our species being found out.
Our species. When did I begin to think of myself as more of a monster than a human?
I am not a monster I am not―
“We form a league,” she says suddenly, standing too tall in my shrinking humanity; I feel like this house is changing me. “The alpha pack disbands into smaller, more manageable packs. Each pack with their own alpha… and their own betas. Being an alpha is not set in stone.”
It takes me a minute, but I eventually understand what she’s implying. Why there’s a cold, serious mask on her face. “You can’t seriously be suggesting that we turn alphas back into their beta form. Death would be preferable― and more merciful― than shifting them back.”
I remember once, when I was twelve, Ben took me on a trip to Quebec. It was arranged for us to be staying with a local pack; the alpha had some kind of connection to Roxanne. I faintly remember Ben’s lecture in the car about foreign policy in werewolf politics or something like that, his voice rising and falling like the mountains outside of the passenger window. I was too excited about leaving the alpha pack― if only for a brief time― to care much about what he was saying.
I should have listened to every word he ever told me.
We stayed in Quebec for two weeks. The pack that owned the house was only made up of six members― two of which were children who were not of shifting age yet. During the days, I would spend hours sitting at a wooden table with Ben and the adults of the Canadian pack. They would talk about alliances between packs and disputes that had broken up among regions and a spike in the number of werewolves killed by hunters. Ben would elbow me in the side whenever I zoned out― which was quite frequently― but I found it was hard to focus on politics when you were twelve and there was a whole world to explore, waiting behind a single pane of glass.
The scent of pine trees was much more appealing than spending hours in a stiff, straight-backed chair.
Then, the day before we were supposed to leave, I was finally allowed to wander free. If I had been thinking of more than just sitting down by the river and watching the birds fly overhead, I would have run far, far away. God knows I was never allowed to be by myself.
But I wasn’t thinking of anything more than the river and the birds― I barely even noticed the alpha of the Quebec pack behind me. It wasn’t until his claws slashed my shoulders open that I realized the danger. I was still learning how to control the shift, and I remember desperately trying to get my claws to extend. He lashed out again, and I dived to the side, his claws barely brushing my abdomen.
“It doesn’t seem fair,” he growled, voice thick around his fangs. “So much power for someone that doesn’t even know how to use it― someone who doesn’t even want to use it.”
The moment blurs together in my mind, warped by fear and the overwhelming desire to survive. All I can really remember is blood running into my eyes as he descended on me, and Ben coming out of nowhere to smash into him, a flurry of claws and fangs... but I remember everything that happened after in perfect clarity.
“Please,” the alpha begged, cowering in the middle of a dark room, and all I could hear was his voice whispering threats in my ear. “Don’t do this! I’ve been your alpha for years! You know me― you know who I am!”
“I’m not so sure I do anymore,” the second-in-command said, voice behind bared teeth. “You have violated the rules of this pack and have endangered the life of another. You are no longer fit to be alpha.”
“I’ll do anything! It won’t happen again! Jeremy, please!” The alpha held his hands out in prayer, revealing a tattoo of intersecting lines― the pack symbol.
Jeremy ignored him, face a cold, uncaring mask. “There are better ways to go about gaining power that don’t involve taking a life. You are hereby sentenced to demotion.”
I tugged on Ben’s sleeve as Jeremy approached the trembling alpha. Ben turned to go, urging me forward, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away as Jeremy placed one hand on the alpha’s back and one hand on his abdomen.
“It’s time to go,” Ben whispered, but I didn’t turn away in time. Jeremy sank his claws into the alpha’s skin, unleashing a storm of agonizing screams. The alpha convulsed in pain, his eyes glowing an impossibly bright shade of red. Gold started to consume his irises, and still the screaming continued.
Sometimes, I can still hear him screaming.
Ben hurried me out of the room, and I was surprised to find silent tears running down my cheeks. He wiped them away as I asked, my voice watery, “What are they doing to him?”
Ben crouched down so that we were face to face. “They’re taking away his ability to lead the pack. He’s going to be a beta now, and the second-in-command is going to become the new alpha.”
I remember wishing that the responsibility of being an alpha was taken from me. But Ben mistook it for terror, and I let myself fall into his arms.
“We offer them an option,” Zella says quietly, breaking through the haze filling my mind and returning me to the present. “They either meet the qualifications we set and remain alpha, or they step down. They either become a beta or they die.”
I suck my lower lip between my teeth, weighing fate. Was it up to me to decide whether someone was condemned to life or death? “This… league that you mentioned. How would it be formed exactly?”
“Five leaders― one alpha for each pack. The two of us choose their position based on the criteria we determine, and then the five are responsible for their own packs. They are responsible for deciding which alphas shift down… and which alphas die.” She takes a deep breath, rallying herself. “If you do this with me― if you make a deal― we could change the face of this war. We take Roxanne down and put power in the right hands. You get to leave this pack behind and live the life you’ve always wanted. This stops all the killing and the madness. Who’s to say that this war Roxanne is planning is one that we’ll come out of unscathed?”
When Zella looks at me, it’s with the ruthless face of the desperate. She is going to go through with her plan whether I help her or not… but the success of it all depends on my influence. On my loyalties, my alliances, my desires.
What choice do I have?
I hold out my hand to her, my fingers extending to a future I never set in store for myself. Her hand clasps mine and the deal is sealed.
The weight of so many promises flows through my veins.
All of a sudden, there’s a knock on the door. Dread creeps through me, certainty that Paul or Roxanne or someone equally unsavory has been listening this whole time. That I’m being set up, that this is a trap. Zella’s eyes go round, her heart beating through her palm.
Jake peeks his head through the door, all bright blue eyes and windswept blond hair. An audible sigh of relief passes through the room, and I can’t help the smile that makes its way to my lips. His gaze flits between the two of us, at our hands hastily forced down to our sides. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No, not at all,” Zella says, lifting an eyebrow suggestively. “I was just leaving, actually.” She moves through the room like a hurricane, creating dust clouds in her wake. She brushes past Jake, barely avoiding a collision, and turns back to me at the last minute. Her smile is the kind to turn saints into sinners. “I hope you’re ready for what’s ahead.”
Jake stares after her, his vision lingering on her bloodstained soul. When he stumbles into the room, confusion is written all over his face. “What was that about?”
I let his worry slide off of me; my skin is as tough as a shark. “Oh, nothing. She just came up to talk with me about the wedding― she wanted to wish me luck. I imagine Roxanne sent her.”
“Yeah. The wedding.” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck and looking more than slightly uncomfortable. I know what he’s here to talk about― I’ve been avoiding it for days. I haven’t seen him since the hands that are now tucked in his pockets were sure around my body.
“Look, Jake―” I start, but he cuts me off. Every inch of him is tight with tension, a storm rolling through him. My heart drops a little bit.
“No, I get it. You’ve been avoiding me, and I get it.” His gaze flits over the ground, eyebrows pulled down low. My lips part but I can’t think of the right words to say. I want to erase the regret that clings to him. “The other night… it shouldn’t have happened. Not because I didn’t want it to― I did, I do― but because it wasn’t right. You’re getting married in less than a week, and it wasn’t my place. It wasn’t my place to think I could be with you― that we could have a future together. I… I shouldn’t have told you that I loved you. I’m sorry, Bree.” He holds up his hand, words dancing on his tongue, but he swallows them. “It won’t happen again.”
My entire body is twisted up in knots, sentences strangling me. I watch him turn his back and the door is looming up in front of him and all I see is the only good thing in a tank full of sharks. “Wait,” I call out, and this voice is not mine. I’m two entirely different people― one that speaks French and falls in love with boys in plaid shirts, and one that wakes up covered in blood and dreams of lighting the world on fire.
I can’t tell which one is the real me.
“Maybe,” I whisper, watching Jake’s blue so blue eyes fill with possibilities. “Maybe it could happen just one more time.”
He crosses the room in three strides and I swallow my feelings as his lips meet mine. I push everything out of my mind except for the warmth of his skin and the way my hands circle around his neck. His fingers spiral out from my waist, his palms holding me and supporting me. I let myself melt in his grasp, trying to drown my guilt in the lines of his shoulders. A gasp pours from my mouth as his lips trace patterns down my skin, his teeth nipping at my collarbone. He pulls me closer, closer, so close until our hearts pound against each other. I drag my nails across his back as clouds of breath fog my inhibitions.
His mouth trails across my skin, creating shivers and trembles and sighs. He smiles against my throat― a devilish smile, the grin of a sinner― and whispers promises into my ear. I hold onto him tightly as his hands wander, exploring the moans that he inhales. His body rocks against mine, growls and snarls escaping from somewhere deep within me. Our lips find one another, cutting through the haze that surrounds us. The entire world is spinning out of control and I want to be closer to him, I want―
Approaching footsteps force us back to reality. We spring apart, all messy hair and flushed skin. I’m busy cursing out each and every single supreme being that might be listening when Paul opens the door. No knock, no warning. Nothing more than a long look between Jake and me, his eyes tainted with suspicion.
“The two of you are needed downstairs,” he finally says, voice slicing through the awkward silence. His silhouette is colored with a slight tinge of jealousy. He pauses a moment, eyes narrowing when they pass over Jake. “Immediately.”
Jake and I exchange looks as Paul escorts us out of the room. We’ve been found out― someone sold us out to Roxanne. My hands curl up into fists as I replay Zella’s smile, the calculation in her eyes. I feel like I’ve been played. Was I really stupid enough to think that she hadn’t set me up?
I try to remain calm as we descend the stairs, eyes taking in all of my surroundings. If we really have been found out, the only thing that lies in wait for me is blood and misery. Death for Jake and torture for me. Not exactly a happy ending.
We reach the last few steps and I brace myself for a fight.
Paul leads us down a hallway and into a darkened room, and I can feel something― someone― watching me from the blackness. I’m itching to slice my claws against Paul’s throat until he turns on the light, and my heart stops beating in my chest.
“Scott?”
And there you have Chapter Thirteen! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update; here's hoping my brain will be kinder to me for the chapters to come! The next chapter's definitely going to be an important one, and it's made me curious as to what everyone's thoughts are on Blue Moon! Love it? Hate it? What are your feelings on the whole Aubrey + Jake thing? Why do you think Scott's been kidnapped by the alpha pack? Who is the kanima? Is someone ever going to bake chocolate chip cookies for Derek? I would L-O-V-E to hear what your opinions are!
Love ya,
Bethany :D