Scarred Wolf by Charlene Hartnady

30

Everleigh

It’s beentwenty-four hours and I haven’t been able to sleep yet. I still can’t come to terms with what happened last night. After leaving that circle of death and misery, I’d retraced our steps through the forest. I’d found Jaxon’s car, door open, keys in the ignition, and it had been the miracle I’d needed to get home. The jacket on the back seat had been useful too, after I’d shifted back naked, my shredded clothing abandoned in the woods.

Now the jacket is bundled into the top of the bag he left behind here. A bag filled with the rest of his belongings that I left out by the trash bins outside. Razor, toothbrush…clothing I wanted to hug to my chest. I’ve made the trip down there several times now. Although he didn’t seem to bring much with him when he moved in, every time I turn around, I find something else that reminds me…

I move from room to room restlessly. I’ve scrubbed the bathroom he used from top to bottom with bleach to get rid of the scent of him. The sheets he used are in the trash too…rich with the memory of him, of us…what we did.

I don’t want to think about it. It should make me feel dirty – the intimacy I shared with the man who tore my family apart. A man who had a part in the murder of my parents. Murder! I wipe a tear off my cheek with a shaky hand before squaring my shoulders. I feel like my pleasure with him betrayed their memory. A shiver makes its way down my spine. I feel my wolf pacing, whining, mourning so many losses. I want to break down and cry. I want to go to bed and sleep for a week. I don’t! I won’t! I’m stronger than that.

My phone vibrates from the back pocket of my shorts, and I reluctantly reach for it. There’d been a message left by the police earlier asking about an incident in the lot. Seems the footage from the security cameras had been wiped out, and they’re interviewing everyone in the apartment building. I don’t have the energy for it, but I know I’ll have to face that eventually. I’m just glad there’s nothing pointing at me.

I note that it’s yet another message from Diana. She’s sent a dozen of them and I feel terrible for not responding. I can’t help it. I can’t find words.

Should I call the cops?this one reads.

I suck in a breath. Shit!

No. All good.I finally text back.

It buzzes again.

I’m coming over. I’ll be there in an hour or two.

I rub my eyes, then send back a thumbs-up emoji. There’s no point fighting it. Diana wouldn’t take no for an answer. Nor should she. I’m being ridiculous. What I need more than anything is the love and support of my best friend. Hiding away in my den – because I realize now that’s exactly what I’m doing – is not going to solve anything.

I need to talk it all through with her and make sense of it. To get it all out of my system. My folks. My wolf. Jaxon. Him, most of all. I feel him on the outskirts of my senses like a persistent presence and I want to exorcise him.

I check the time, and figure I might fit in yet another shower before she gets here. I want to get the scent of him off me. No matter how hard I’ve tried, it lingers stubbornly, like he’s soaked into my pores. And I need him out.

I head to my room to get a change of clothes, and the intercom buzzes from the downstairs lobby. That was fast. Di said that she would be an hour or two. Then again, my best friend can move quickly when she’s worried, and I guess I’ve given her a lot to be worried about. She must have changed her mind and rushed over. I buzz without checking to see who’s there and minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. I pull it open. And freeze.

The man facing me has silver-gray eyes and strong, angular features. Not Jaxon. Or Warden. The two would be identical, except this man is less powerfully built and leaning heavily on a cane.

Oh! I know who this is. Jaxon mentioned an uncle. I can’t remember his name. He said something about his uncle being there for him. The only real presence in his life. I wonder if he’s here to plead on Jaxon’s behalf. Probably.

“Go away!” I say, starting to close the door.

“Everleigh,” he says, his voice a deep baritone that reminds me so much of Jaxon that I freeze. “There is something important you need to know. Please, may I come in?”