Page 12 of Fastlander Fealty

His voice echoed over and over until it faded to nothing in her mind.

The phone vibrated again behind her. Silver crossed her arms and swirled the deep red liquid around in the glass, thinking of how to answer.

Half of her wanted to turn off her phone. Avoid his questions altogether. But half of her wanted to tell him. Those pieces of her would have to compromise.

She would tell him the fragment of her story she could part with.

Silver made her way back to the couch and sat down, sipped her wine again and then picked up the phone.

Owen had texted again. You don’t have to tell me.

She steeled herself and typed it out, just to test if she had the nerve to send something so mortifying. I messed up, and someone I thought loved me made sure I would never mess up again. She took another sip and closed her eyes. If her thumb landed right on the send button, it was meant to be. She settled the pad of her thumb on the cold screen.

Send.

He didn’t respond for a minute. Two minutes. There was still silence at three minutes, and there it was. She’d exposed too much.

If he only knew she was a lion shifter, and what her rank was in the Pride, he would feel justified in never speaking to her again. She was at the bottom. She’d been a Queen once, and now she was at the very bottom, under the lowest ranking cubs.

Tears of shame stung her eyes, and she nodded as minute five ticked by.

She made her way into the kitchen and brought her phone and wine with her, and then pulled out a box of cheese crackers from the pantry, snacked on them as she made a grilled cheese sandwich the way her mother used to make for her and Jaren, her brother. Sometimes she wished she could go back to being a cub. Life was simpler back then.

Her phone vibrated, and at first, she thought she was imagining it. She flipped her sandwich in the buttered pan and poked the screen to wake it up.

Owen had texted. That’s heavy. Is it a traitor mark?

Fuck.

Humans didn’t do traitor marks. If she said yes, he would know she was a shifter.

He was digging too deep too fast.

She countered. Why did you fight with your Crew tonight? Send.

The answer was almost immediate. Because they feel I don’t have their best interest in mind.

Do you? Send.

Fuck no. I think about burning this place to the ground ten times a day. It’s how I’m built. I’m a back-and-forth man. Is it a traitor mark?

Well, he’d just been brutally honest.

She sipped her wine and considered showing her hand too soon. That’s what it would be. Rook had told her to hide what she was until she came back to the Pride.

But…

Rook wasn’t here, in this peaceful moment she was sharing with only Owen.

Yes. Send.

Nice. Your people probably suck. That’s a cool-ass scar. Looks hot on you.

Her eyebrow arched so high in shock, she probably had nine forehead wrinkles right now. Are you being serious? Send.

Super hot. A picture came through and she poked it to enlarge it. It was a full-length mirror selfie in a dark colored bedroom. Owen stood in the mirror wearing black sweatpants that hung low on his muscled hips. His six pack was perfectly uniform. It was also gashed with scars, and there were new cuts across his shoulder and bicep, and a single trickle of blood that had traveled down his arm. He had one hand holding the camera and one hand in his pocket, and his chin was tilted up. His eyes were bright blue. Sometimes I hate it here.

Then why do you stay? she asked him. Send.

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