Page 3 of Forsaken Desire
FOUR YEARS LATER
This was my chance at a new life. I’d saved a small amount of money while I’d been imprisoned, and now I was free. I scratched at my arm, craving the breeze against my fur. It’d been years since I’d last shifted. Other than during the Blood Moons, the ache was bearable.
For the most part.
I pressed my lips together so my whine didn’t spill out. All that would do was freak out my Outreach counselor, Bianca, currently driving us to the new-to-me apartment. Dark strands of hair whipped around my cheeks. The fresh air felt amazing. It was just what I needed after facing the same dull, crusty walls for the last four years.
Years I deserved. Even if I didn’t remember what had happened, my crime was unforgivable. After being charged with Criminally Negligent Homicide from being a first-time offender, I’d been lucky.
My public defender had been the only reason I’d gotten a Class B Felony and not received the minimum of twenty years.
I rubbed my thumb and pointer finger together. Weight settled on my chest.
Everything before I woke up in the hospital was absent. Like a fat, black hole taunting me. I sighed, leaning my temple against the window. It was probably my brain protecting me from what I’d done.
“You okay there, Joey?”
I forced the corner of my lips up and nodded slightly.
“Good, I have you all set for your new job. You got this.”
There was more to it than preparing for my new job, but as a human, she didn’t know. Since I was relocating to the closest town to the prison, I had to check in with the Alpha of the territory. According to Tate, another wolf shifter and one of my only friends for the past four years, it should just be a quick check-in with a notice of the time frame I would be on the Alpha’s pack land. She assured me there shouldn’t be issues as long as I caused no problems. It would have been nice if she was from this pack, then I could have an in.
My plan was to request the Alpha allow me to stay during my probation, and after the year was up, I would determine whether I would stay in the area. If so, it would mean potentially joining his pack. I didn’t know how to feel about that, but being a rogue wasn’t a better alternative—according to Tate. All the information I knew about shifters came from her, but she’d been a rogue before ending up incarcerated, so it wasn’t like she knew everything.
The car jostled onto a driveway.
“Here we are, unit 2B,” Bianca sang, putting her small Toyota in park to hand me a pouch. “Your bank card and the keys to the apartment are in here.” And that was it. No prying.
That was what I liked about Bianca: she gave me space.
“I . . .” I cleared my throat, but it didn’t help the thickness in my throat. “Bianca?—”
“I know, hun,” she murmured and patted the top of my hand briefly. My shoulders lowered, and I nodded gratefully, pulling my small duffel bag from the spot between my feet. “Remember, in three days, you have to show up at Crescent Hotel at nine sharp for your orientation,” she instructed as I pulled my measly belongings into my arms.
I watched her vehicle back out and speed away.
Exhaling, I turned to face my duplex. Brown paint was peeling off the column framing the door, and the roof was bowed slightly, but this was better than anything I’d ever seen. Kind of sad that all my memories consisted of navy jumpsuits, bland walls, and the cold bars of a cell.
I licked my lips nervously and swung my bag over my shoulder.
The chain clinked against the metal doorknob as I slid the key in and turned it. With the holes in my memory, I couldn’t have known if I had unlocked a door before, but the motion felt smooth and practiced. My nose wrinkled at the musty scent that wafted out, but I quickly smoothed my expression. I was grateful for this.
Immediately upon entering was an empty living room and to the right, a small kitchen with off-white, slightly peeling cabinets. After setting my bag on the kitchen counter, I continued my walk-through.
The brown carpet was decent, other than the sporadic stains. Across the front door was another door opening to the bedroom.
Bianca had set me up with a thin mattress dressed in sheets. It was on a metal frame along the edge of the room and beneath the rectangular window. I hurried to it and jumped on top. The lack of creaking was music to my ears. I’d developed a severe aversion to the sound of metal grinding against metal.
The floral scent of fabric softener reached my nose, and I hummed, burying my face in the sheets.
A bathroom at the corner of the room made up the last of my duplex. The lit-up numbers on the alarm clock perched on the ledge of the window shone down on me.
I closed my eyes, smiling.
Such blissful silence.
My itchiness hadn’t tapered, so I pulled off my clothes. I sat up to fold them and place them at the edge of the bed. Once my bra was unhooked, I placed it on top of the pile.
