Page 11 of Wolf Heart

CHAPTER4

JUNIPER

My heart splinters and tears roll down my cheeks.

How could this have happened again?

My wolf was supposed to come out. I clench my fists and press them hard to my gut… I need to hurt because I’m not good enough even for my wolf.

I want the world to crack open and swallow me, just as much as my embarrassment is doing.

I’m weak and a nobody to everyone in the pack I once considered family. Because at the end of the day, what good is a wolf who can’t transform?

A wolf who pines for Michael but can’t make a show.

I want to die.

I curse at myself under my breath,you’re useless. No good to anyone.

Their eyes are heavy on my back, their laughs are torture in my ears. And I can’t stand it another second.

I run.

And I never look back because I can’t stand to see the pity and judgment on their faces.

As far as they’re concerned, I might as well be dead.

I should have known better than to trust anyone or even my wolf. She has let me down for years… why did I think she would change now?

A whine burrows under my heart and I gasp at the longing and pain shooting up through me. She wants Michael back. Stupid wolf thinks he’s our mate. Well, he might have been if she had broken free.

Even if I went back and pleaded for my life, the Alpha wouldn’t grant it. Any outcast who returns to the pack is killed on sight. I rush into my home to gather my things.

Behind me, the front door slams against the wall and I jump, whirling around.

“How could you embarrass us like that?” she shouts and grabs my arm. “I should’ve smashed your head in with a rock the second I saw you.”

Tears spill down my cheeks faster than I can wipe them away. I feel like pieces of me are crumbling and I'll never be able to put them all back together again. "Please, I just need to get my things.”

She barks out a laugh, pushing me backward toward the door. “You’re not taking anything. I’m selling your stuff to whoever wants it and burning the rest before the pack throws me out with you.”

"Mom," the word chokes in my throat. Of all the times when Dad was alive and we were happy. A family. "Please. I-I need to grab some things." I wrap my arms around my middle, my chest heaving from the tears scorching me from the inside out. "Don't you care at all that you'll never see me again? Or that I'm going to die out there?"

No one survived the wilds without a pack, without help.

“You ungrateful little slut.” Her mouth twists into a snarl. “You’ve always thought yourself better than anyone here—just like your mother.”

Everything in me tightens into an aching knot. “What did you just say?” I want to chalk it off to the alcohol talking, but she’s never said anything like this before. The way she’s looking at me is like she’s come across a dead skunk in the woods.

“You heard me,” she sneers. “When your dad came home with you, I should’ve killed you then. But he promised. Said you were blessed.” She spat out a laugh. “You know what I think?”

This can't be real. I can't answer because I’m dizzy like the floor is dropping out beneath me and I can’t find my balance.

“Your father lied. Your mother must have tied some spell to him that unraveled when he died and left me. Cause that's the only explanation why I didn't drown you in the bath as a baby.”

My heart feels like it is cleaved in two, but I shake my head, not believing what the hell she’s saying. It can’t be real.

“Where do you think your blue hair comes from? Why you could never get a dye to take?” Her expression darkens like she’s not the woman I remember laughing with Dad during family boat rides along the river or who used to tickle me whenever she acted like a mother and not the stranger standing before me. “It was from her, your witch mother. I hate you. It’s because of you that your father died.”

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