Page 70 of Thrown to the Wolves

I pause, my mind spinning. “If you hadn’t,” I say slowly, carefully, “Hadria and I would never have met you. Never had you care for us.”

Mrs. Graves says nothing, her silence louder than words could ever be. But I’m pretty sure I know the truth she can’t bring herself to voice—that the alternative path, the one where she never knew us, never loved us, would still have been better.

Better for everyone.

I back away abruptly, my legs feeling weak and unsteady. I turn to leave, my movements slow and deliberate, as if I’m moving through water, through a dream. At the door, I pause, looking back at the woman who is the closest thing I ever had to a mother.

“Rest well, Mrs. G,” I say, my voice thick in my throat.

I slip out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me, leaving Mrs. Graves alone with her thoughts, and walk away.

What have I done?

What have I become?

The questions plague me as I navigate the hallways, no destination in mind, just the need to move, to escape my actions.

But I can’t escape, not ever. The weight of what I’ve done hangs heavy on me, a burden I can’t even begin to shed. I think of Scarlett, of her fierce determination, her beauty and her fragility.

And I think of the moments we shared, the connection we forged at the heart of the chaos and violence we both chose to step into.

Because I did have a choice.

Despite everything that Grandmother did to me, I had a choice when I left her clutches. I could have run much further than I did, shed the skin of the person she’d made me into.

But I didn’t. I chose not to. Just like Scarlett chose to enter Grandmother’s house as well.

“Enough,” I sigh at last, my thoughts buzzing around in my head like angry bees. It’s exhausting, all this thinking. So I head back to the celebration, back to the role I’ve chosen, the path I’ve set myself upon.

Back to being the Wolf, the loyal soldier, the ruthless enforcer.

CHAPTER 34

Lyssa

The morning sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon the next morning as I ride through the quiet countryside on my motorbike, the wind whipping over me. Chicago feels a world away, even though I’m only an hour from the city limits.

I push the bike faster, eager to arrive at my destination.

Scarlett taught me several lessons. One of them is that I’m not as unfeeling as I thought. That inside the Wolf there’s a woman, too, with the dreams and desires of any woman. And right now, I just want a little time alone with those dreams and desires.

An old, abandoned farm comes into view over the rise in the road, still a ways in the distance, and I slow down a little, make sure nothing’s behind me or ahead as I take the turn off.

I have to be careful on the road leading to the farm; it’s deteriorated over the years. This place holds memories for me. It’s where I used to sleep rough after I ran away from Grandmother, before I found the courage to return to Chicago. Not even Hadria knows about it. It’s my secret, my sanctuary.

I don’t come here often. Only when I need to clear my head.

I park the bike and take a quick look around, making sure there are no signs of life. When I’m satisfied, I head to the old barn, unlock the padlock and shoving the door open against rusty hinges. The musty scent of moldering hay and wet wood fills my nostrils. The day has been cloudy, so it takes a second for me to let my eyes adjust, and then I move through the space, not bothering to hide the sound of my footsteps, until I reach a horse stall at the back.

And there she is, just where I left her after drugging her back at the high-rise.

Scarlett.

Bound, gagged, propped up against the best of the hay that I could find. The chain on her ankle is still solid—I check it with a perfunctory tug, and then I make sure her ropes are still tight, rolling her this way and that.

She lets me do it. She looks exhausted, defeated, but there’s still a defiant gleam in her hazel eyes when she meets my gaze.

When I’m sure she’s still bound up tight—and that I’m not going to get an unexpected stiletto blade in my heart—I crouch down beside her and gently remove the gag. She works her jaw, licking her dry lips.

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