Page 37 of Wolf Targeted
No, I won’t let anyone see me like this. Not even Angela who has seen me at my worst—well, at the time I thought it was my worst, but I’ve just hit rock bottom and I’m drowning.
“Go away.” I sob even harder.
“You know I can’t,” she says sadly.
“Leave me alone!”
“The alpha left me to guard you.” She knocks again.
“Don’t talk to me about the fucking alpha.” I swipe at my wet cheeks.
My wolf whines in my head at the rejection. My sobs become more ragged as any hope or possibility of a real future with Archer are torn from my chest.
He doesn’t want me. He said it plain as day in the cruelness of his words. He denied me when I tried.
What kind of life am I going to lead here? Is this any better than exile?
I’ve done my best be a good mate and alpha female to this pack despite Archer and his fucked up ways.
“Jara, open the door.” Angela tries again.
It’s disgusting, but I’m well past caring and lie down in front of the door with my eyes squeezed tight.
Tears tumble out and wet the ground by my head as I curl in the fetal position.
“I’m going to break the fucking door down,” Angela says.
Memories of Archer’s tenderness and caring attitude push to the forefront of my mind, and I cry harder.
Why is he like this? Who made him this way? Was it his father as Angela claims?
“Your tears are making my wolf go insane. Either open the door or I’m going to go wolf out on an alpha,” Angela whispers through the door.
Guilt eats at my chest, but I can’t get up. My body is numb. My limbs unresponsive.
“You won’t wolf out on Archer,” I croak.
My throat is shredded from the tears I’ve already cried and my screams of rage.
“You don’t think so?” she asks.
“No.”
There’s shuffling on the other side of the door and the knob jiggles.
“Jara, get the fuck up,” Alex barks from the other side of the door.
What the actual fuck is Alex doing in my bedroom? He doesn’t have the right to be in here just because he’s my cousin.
“Get out,” I whisper.
He can hear me.
His shifter hearing will be tuned to my side of the door.
“I’m getting my mom and a lock pick kit,” Alex says.
“No,” I say.
