Page 31 of The Wolf

It was all Scarlet had ever hoped for as child, and it broke her heart.

The duchess of Merjeri was a good person. Robyn would achieve great things and help an even greater number of people than Scarlet could likely ever fathom.

She couldn’t hurt the duchess.

Scarlet watched several brightly colored fish swim through the clear waters of the pond as she slipped her hand into her right pocket. The poison she had brewed—the horribly unpleasant one, full of the vicious peppers she’d attacked Tarros with—almost seemed to burn her palm.

Shame curdled her stomach. What had she turned into?

She had taken her stepmother’s mission without a single question and had come here fully intending to cut an innocent woman’s life short, a woman who only did what was best for people— for anyone who looked for help. Not a single person on her journey to and through Merjeri had anything bad to say about the gracious Lady Lochslee.

Think of Moses.

Scarlet gazed at her reflection in the pond between the lily pads and the golden shimmer of the fish. Pale, freckled, expressionless. There was the scar on her face from where she had helped Will escape Betraz—Will Scarlet, inextricably linked to her forever. They even shared a name. But there was no scarlet cloak to be seen in her reflection. Of course she couldn’t wear it into Merjeri without being noticed. It was bad enough that Arwen had realized she was the one helping the outlaws on her previous mission because of that cloak. But it had been a very long time since she hadn’t worn red.

Scarlet shivered, feeling vulnerable without the protection of that bloody color covering her shoulders. The women staring back at her seemed like an apparition. A ghost.

A child from another time, wearing Scarlet’s face like a mask.

Who are you? When did you give up?

The space between her shoulder blades prickled and Scarlet froze.

Someone was watching her.

She slowly lifted her head from the pond and casually surveyed the garden, making it appear as if she was admiring the blossoms fluttering on the breeze.

Her gaze snagged on silver eyes.

It was the shifter who had noticed her earlier.

Scarlet stopped breathing.

Not possible.

At the time, she had not taken into account what the man looked like, aside from his size. Even with the distance between them, it was plain as day.

The man was the spitting image of Bright.

Dressed all in black.

Loose, black hair hung gracefully around his head and shoulders. He was tall with wide shoulders and arms that looked like they could crush a man’s skull.

Run.

Scarlet took a step back, then remembered the pond was behind her, so she took a step to her left instead, then another and another. His black wolf ears twitched atop his head.

The wolf shifter mirrored her movements—each step calculated.

Her jaw clenched. This was what she hated about wolves.

They liked to hunt. And make no mistake, he was hunting her now.

You can’t outrun him.

His strides were longer than hers and he was closing the distance slowly as she debated what his next move was.

Distract him. If he wanted you dead, you would be already.

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