Page 255 of Psycho Beasts

The birthplace of the new alphas who would rule Serpentine City.

My knuckles were white as I pushed Aran’s floating hoverchair. It was the only thing keeping me upright.

Sweat dripped down my forehead as my vision wavered, the five brothers trailing behind me mindlessly.

It was the reason I’d forgone makeup.

But I wasn’t completely giving the middle finger to ostentatious demands of authority.

My shimmery gold dress had an open back, and it contrasted nicely with the dark circles under my eyes and the strain on my face.

Aran wore a black suit that covered her body, but the gashes across the side of her head from the bullets were bloody and uncovered.

Betas standing along the roped-off carpet winced when Aran levitated by.

She grinned and flipped them off, unruly blue hair a wild mass of curls that were stained red with blood.

Déjà vu hit me as I remembered a fancy carpet in the shifter realm.

Back then, Aran had preened and smiled at the attention, and I’d stood beside her all dolled up and pretty.

An outsider would remark how far we’d fallen.

Aran flipped off a reporter and rolled her eyes when the woman gagged at the jagged cuts across her face.

It felt like we’d risen.

We both were buzzing with the accomplishment of staring pain, fear, and endless odds in the face.

We’d survived certain death.

Adrenaline, exhaustion, and confusion warred inside me, and I felt slightly euphoric as I rode the forbidden high.

Aran sucked on her enchanted pipe, blowing electric-blue smoke into the face of the outraged reporter.

I giggled as I “accidentally” slammed the hover chair into her legs.

Aran laughed and held the pipe up to my lips so I could take another drag.

Sucking on the stick, my vision smudged from smoke and fatigue, I pushed us forward in a wobbly line.

“Sun god save us,” Cobra grumbled as he tried to take the floating chair from my hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I snarled as I held on to the handles like they were a lifeline.

Aran cussed him out with an impressive vocabulary, and Cobra gave up, realizing we were mentally unwell and dead serious.

“Has she always been like this?” Cobra asked Lucinda.

My sister sighed heavily. “One time after Dick beat her super bad, she suddenly had the urge to take up carpentry. She cut down an entire tree and was convinced she was going to build herself a chair.”

Cobra gaped. “No shit.”

Lucinda sparkled in her strappy white gown. She smiled sadly, clearly thinking about our awful childhood, as she rubbed at her cut-up forearm. “She didn’t make anything, just dragged the tree through the forest, shouting to the moon goddess.”

Aran pressed the pipe to my lips, and I took another long drag.

Cobra stared at me like he’d never seen me before, and I shrugged.

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