Chapter 13
The air in the room grows thick, heavy with the weight of her suggestion. I swallow hard, feeling the walls close in. To disguise myself as my own sister–it feels disrespectful, a betrayal to her memory. Yet, desperation claws at my insides, urging me to latch onto any lifeline thrown my way.
“But Granny, they’ll find out,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. My stomach churns, revolting against the idea. “What if they want to know why I don’t already have an ID?”
The lines etched deeply into Granny’s face seem to deepen, carved by a lifetime of hardship and loss, but her gaze never wavers from mine. She understands the risks better than anyone–the dangers of deceit, the price of protection. But her next words are a balm to my frayed nerves, a reassurance that steadies the trembling of my hands.
Granny’s head moves in a firm shake as she catches my gaze, her eyes alight with something fierce and unwavering. “No, they won’t,” she insists, the words cutting through the haze of my terror. “You’re a rogue; it’s not uncommon for rogues to not have ID. Most are sovereign, avoiding getting caught up in pack politics.”
She’s right; Rogues often skirt the fringes of society, unseen and undocumented. It’s how they’ve managed to survive- how I will have to survive. But as I stand here, with the weight of my sister’s birth certificate in my hand, survival takes on a
new form.
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Chapter 13
17:23 Wouchers.
The risks flash before my eyes like lightning in a stormy sky. The Lycan King’s rule over our kind is absolute, his laws shaping the world we live in and the risk to Granny would mean death for helping me.
I glance around Granny’s quaint living room, the walls adorned with faded wallpaper and memories that seem to mock my predicament.
“Rhett won’t stop,” | murmur, voicing the dread coiling in my gut.
“And just me being here, Granny… if you’re caught lying to protect me,” I can’t finish the sentence, the consequences too horrifying to voice.
“Then we won’t let them catch us,” Granny interjects, a steel edge to her tone that brooks no argument.
The birth certificate feels heavy in my hand, heavier than the flimsy paper has any right to be. The plan is risky, dangerously so, but it offers a sliver of hope. The Lycan King rules over werewolves, creates our laws, and governs us. Knowing one is close while Rhett is hunting me is not a good thing because if there is a bounty on me, that means he’ll notify authorities soon then. And just Granny lying about me being here could get her executed. If the King’s guard finds me, I am dead meat. But for now, I just need to lie low and pray to the goddess that I can somehow pull this off.
Yet another thought nags me, the next full moon, my wolf may try seek Rhett out, but what will I do without suppressants, and if that barn is that old, how old are these chains Granny suggested, I may be rogue but I’m also alpha blood and Alpha blood is strong, and so is my wolf.
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I glance down at the paper in my hand, it is my only hope until I figure something out. Assuming my sister’s identity can shield me from Rhett and his dealings with King Soren–at least for a while. It could work. The name I gave the King was Bree, which would fit for Aubrey or Brielle if I was unlucky enough to run into him again.
Hopefully, that doesn’t happen, besides what are the chances of running into him while grocery shopping, he’s a King, he’d have people doing that sort of thing for him so chances seem pretty good on my end that I’ll never see him again.
A few days later.
Rhett put out an alert, it came across the news the other night. Thankfully, the only photo he had of me was one my parents gave him from when I was teenager and going through the awkward emo stage, though it also bothered me that he had no photos of me, because I had plenty of him on my phone. It just shows I was always more invested in the mate bond than he was.
Even the grainy footage from the gas station was too distorted to make out my features and instead I looked like a blonde blur.
So, Granny suggested I dye my hair, unfortunately the local chemist when I got milk that day only had a mix of rainbow dyes, so we made do, now I looked like I could fart rainbows with the mix of colors in my hair. Granny proved to still have skills, she used to be a hairdresser, and bright colors were her favorite, so she did a good job and I liked the change. Though I hated the extremes I had to go to, just to hide from Rhett.
But how much longer could I keep this up? Not only that, but
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Chapter 13
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the pain from the mate bond is excruciating. Some nights, all | can do is lie awake and endure it. I can feel his infidelity in every atom of my body. Some nights I hated him, others I mourned the mate bond. A bond I know I’ll never get back. Werewolves had only one mate and mine turned out to be a dud, or maybe I was the dud and that’s why he chose her over me. The questions my mind rattles off and taints my psych with growing worse with each day.
It’s as if Rhett is deliberately being unfaithful to our bond, tormenting me from afar with the crippling agony of his infidelity with Bianca.
A lot of hacking coughs rings out, and I turn my head to look at the door, my heart beating faster when I hear her wheeze loudly. I rush to her side, my chest aching with every step. Her face is pale, and beads of sweat dot her forehead, making me worry even more about her fragile health. The empty oxygen tank beside her bed only intensifies my concern. Panicking, I hand her the inhaler, only to find that it’s also running low.
“Grandma, do you have another inhaler?” I ask, worry evident in my voice.
She shakes her head, struggling to catch her breath. “I’ll have to make do until next month when my disability check comes in,” she says weakly.
Seeing her struggle to breathe, I know I have to find her another when I remember the last of the money from the envelope in my car.
“Grandma, I’ll be right back,” I tell her. “I’m heading into town to get you another tank and inhaler.”
As I make my way to the town pharmacy on foot, I take in the
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beauty of the small town, a stark contrast to the decay that has taken hold of my grandmother’s home. The friendly faces and warm greetings from passersby provide a sense of community that’s been missing from my life for far too long.
I can’t even remember when I had so many random strangers smile and nod in my direction, though some seemed wary of strangers. Most appeared to be welcoming as I gave a short wave to those who waved or smiled on the walk in, though I’m starting to realize this town is mostly full of elderly people.
As I approach the pharmacy, I see a figure leaning against the wall next to a food truck, impatiently looking at his watch and I stop dead in my tracks wondering why his figure feels so familiar. As the breeze shifts, the air is filled with the familiar scent that has me instantly freezing the blood in my veins as I try to place it. It doesn’t take me long before I recognize the smell, it’s…
