Page 78 of The Alpha King's Curse: Part Two

“They didn’t believe me when I told them about you last time,” Kelly said. “I told them you’re a warrior. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“Um...” Was Jackson listening to this conversation? His suspecting she had gone out was one thing, but hearing the details was another.

She looked up at the main bedroom window and focused her senses. When she sensed nothing but anger, she tensed and pulled back. Jackson was clearly listening.

She offered Kelly a tight little smile.

“Let her eat first before you bombard her with questions. You’re as bad as Max,” Marjorie smiled.

She hadn’t seen the brave little boy who had protected her sister in months. She often wondered how he was recovering from that trauma. Not just him but all the children, especially the ones who had become orphans. The orphans had been moved from the packhouse after that incident in the garage.

Faith put a tray on her lap filled with food and gave her another smile.

“I’ll go and see to the Al... to Mr King now, but you’re in good hands.”

Were they pretending the other day didn’t happen? The word must have gone around; they knew she had fought werewolves. But she didn’t want to upset Jackson, so she just nodded. And then Faith walked away, leaving her alone with strangers. Her anxiety started to return.

“I never got to thank you,” Marjorie said.

“Anyone would have done the same. And your little boy did all the work, really,” she answered.

“I don’t mean that, although you have my eternal gratitude for that, too.”

Then what was she referring to? The attack the day before? She didn’t remember seeing Marjorie there.

But that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have until she was brave enough to face Jackson again. He was seething, and she didn’t even have to focus on the bedroom to feel that.

The pack members continued talking as if they didn’t mind her presence. She ate and observed quietly, only offering a word or a smile when directly spoken to. They had all sounded terrifying when she had listened in on their conversation from her room but sitting outside with them like that was different.

She watched how they interacted with each other. They were like a big family joking around and eating together. She could see why the grief had been so immense when they had lost people the last time. They would have all felt that loss because they were close.

She had struggled to create an environment like that for Brit in their tiny trailer home, but it was something she had always yearned for. Before her mother had left, she remembered they used to host many parties and barbeques in the backyard. Wolves were social creatures, they preferred to live in packs—maybe that was why her mother used to love hosting.

Would she be like that? Would she crave a social setting like the pack had?

“Have some more meat,” a man said while he picked up a platter of assorted meat from the table. “The baby needs a lot of this so he grows strong.”

“It’s a girl,” she muttered without thinking.

“I suppose it’s about time we had a princess,” the man laughed, then stopped abruptly. “Girls need to grow up strong, too. Eat as much as you want.”

She wondered if the man had stopped because he realised he’d said too much. And once again, she pretended not to understand it.

By lunchtime, she had probably spoken to more people than she had ever done in her life. She felt included. Like she was one of them.

Was that because they were waiting for her to give birth safely before they killed her, or they genuinely liked her? That was something she would probably never know.

The pull towards Jackson grew stronger, so intense she couldn’t ignore it anymore. With a sigh, she stood, stretched, and told them she had to go back to check on Jackson.

“I think we’ll be here for a while. Come and hang out anytime,” Marjorie smiled.

She was almost at the steps when the back of her neck prickled. She had ignored the few negative feelings she’d felt all morning, but she couldn’t ignore this one. That was a lot of hatred directed at her. The hair on the back of her neck rose, and goosebumps formed on her arms. Fear inched down her spine like ice. She felt the same heavy air she had sensed when they had been attacked.

Slowly, she turned to look. Too many people were in the tents and walking around, and no one seemed focused on her.

But the evil was there. Somewhere.

“Miss Layla.”

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