Page 2 of Captive Witch

A small laugh bubbles out of me, and he hops closer.

“It’s time to go home, Addy.”

My laughter dies, and I shake my head once more. “I don’t deserve him, Kaylus. I don’t deserve anyone in the pack, least of all Gideon.”

“Yes, you do. You deserve him just like you know his place is your home, instead of the house you grew up in. You didn’t even hesitate to think of him like that this time. He is your home.”

I blow my breath out in a huff, avoiding eye contact with the raven at my thigh, unable to explain that it’s less of the house I stayed in with Gideon and more of the man himself that feels like home.

He’s the only home we have.

“Plus, it’s been three days, and you stink.”He caws, flying off when I swat at him, his laughter echoing in my head.

I get to my feet, trying to sniff myself without him noticing. My cheeks flame when I realize he’s right—I need a shower badly.

My heart pounds as I get closer to Mila’s house. I only left a note the day I took off, wanting to make sure no one worried about me or tried to follow me—or stop me. But I never checked to see if she got it. Honestly, the only thing I made sure to do was to check on Gideon before going into the Lockwood Forest. And now, I’m only delaying the inevitable by walking in my human form, refusing to shift and use my wolf’s speed.

Sucking in a deep breath when I see Mila’s small, white, Cape Cod style house come into view, I swallow back the nerves threatening to spill onto the sidewalk before me and lift my fist to knock on her pastel purple door. I count to ten in my head, then take a step back, slowly moving away from the door. Maybe this was a mistake. If Mila is mad at me, I’m not sure how she’ll react, and I don’t know if I can bear to hear her yell at me.

Kaylus caws from the pitch of her roof, and I jump, looking up at him and narrowing my eyes. Just as I’m about to chew him out for being spooky, the door swings open, and a sob steals my attention.

Mila’s blue eyes are puffy and red rimmed, her face blotchy, and her curly blonde hair is pulled back in a messy bun, random tendrils escaping the knot and framing her face in a frizzy halo. Her face crumbles with another sob, and she rushes forward to wrap her arms around me. I blink a few times, trying to fight back the wave of emotions threatening to drown me but fail. Instead, I bury my face into her neck and cling back. For once, I embrace the feeling of a friend welcoming me home, the knowledge that someone missed me and was concerned about me, the warmth of another’s love.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” she says, her voice cracking. She pulls back and hits my shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again!” Then, she clutches me to her again, crushing the air from my lungs. “Gods, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Sniffling, I drag the heel of my hand across my cheeks. “I’m fine, but I stink. I don’t know how you’re hugging me for this long.”

“I’ve been trying not to breathe through my nose,” she says, holding back a laugh.

I shove her away from me, laughing. “You try skipping showers for three days and not smelling.”

“I wouldn’t skip showers.” She raises an eyebrow, putting a hand on her hip. “Just like I wouldn’t ditch my best friend for three days.”

The smile slips off my face, and my gaze falls to the ground, guilt burning my cheeks. “I know. I’m sorry. I—”

Mila reaches out and grabs my hand, bringing my eyes back up to hers. “I’m just glad you’re home.” She squeezes my fingers, then pulls me inside.

The tension in my chest loosens slightly, and a small smile tugs at my lips as I let her lead me into her living room. Pushing me toward the stairs, she reminds me, “The peach room is still yours. Bathroom across the hall is stocked with everything, and I just put fresh towels in there. Go.”

I nod, moving toward the stairs and pausing on the bottom step and looking back at her. “Mila?”

She looks up from her spot on the couch, a spoon poking out from the pint of ice cream on the table beside her.

I look from the ice cream back to her. “What’s wrong? Did something… happen?”

Tears fill her eyes as her brows cinch together. She buries her face in her hands, and I rush from the stairs over to where she sits, kneeling on the ground before her. I put my arms around her shoulders and tug her to me, running a hand over her hair.

“It’s okay… it’s okay. You can talk to me,” I whisper, hoping whatever it was wasn’t as bad as I think.

“Frank g-got hurt, a-and it’s all m-my fault,” she cries.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to hold back the onslaught of questions clouding my mind. Where is Frank? And how hurt is hurt? And… was Gideon involved?

She takes a shaky breath, sitting up and wiping the wetness off her cheeks as more tears stream down her face. “Moren, my ex, came here. He… um, well… Frank had to fight him, and he got hurt. He says he’s fine, but I know he isn’t.” Chewing on herlower lip, she stares down at her hands as she fidgets with her fingers. “He only left just now because he had to work, but he won’t go back to his own house now because of all the letters.”

I scoot up onto the couch beside her, resting my hand on her forearm. “What letters?”

She sniffles, refusing to look at me. “When Moren came here, he tried to take me back, but I-I turned back into that scared little girl I’d been when he’d trapped me over a century ago. He thought Frank was the alpha and tried to fight him to take over the pack.” She scoffs, wiping a few tears from her cheek. “Frank killed him, but he’s hurt. He’s bruised and banged up. He talked to Gideon to merge the packs now, but they still think of me as that pathetic little wolf Moren pushed around all the time… They keep leaving these horrible letters tacked to my door.”

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