Page 32 of To Hunt A Wolf
“Thiago wanted her. Everyone knew it. Even Lacey. And he’d already threatened anyone else who tried to date her.”
“Thiago’s a dick.”
I hate quoting Levi but it’s the truest response I can give.
“I still would have said yes,” he goes on. “But that afternoon, Jadick found me in the locker room. He asked me to leave her alone. To not make her a target.”
“Why would he have cared?”
“Because Lacey was his mate.”
I stare back at him, sifting through memories faster now. Lacey Cartwright was the most popular girl in our class—until she was tragically killed in a boating accident the summer before senior year.
“Wait. Lacey was Jadick’s fated mate? But Jadick never claimed her,” I say.
“No, he didn’t.”
There’s a lot to unpack in the way he says the word. Questions I don’t even know how to ask.
“I don’t understand. What does Jadick have to do with me hunting Levi down?”
“Jadick rejected Lacey.”
“Yeah, and Levi rejected me. It’s what this pack does. So what?”
“Sometimes, rejection is protection, Mac.”
“Jadick rejected Lacey to protect her,” I say, not quite sure whether I believe that. From what I know about Jadick, he’s just as bad as Thiago.
Tripp merely shrugs.
“Okay, but Lacey died anyway. What the hell good did it do her in the end, to be rejected?”
His phone dings again. This time, he gives it his full attention and takes his time texting back. My patience threatens to snap, but even worse, I can feel the medicine really kicking in. Exhaustion washes over me, tugging at my eyelids.
I fight sleep, determined to get answers from this convoluted, bull shit story he’s giving me.
I yawn.
“What does Lacey have to do with me, Tripp?”
He slides his phone away and looks back at where I’ve slumped hard against my pillow. “Hopefully nothing, kid. Hopefully nothing at all.”
ChapterEight
I’m groggy when I wake again, thanks to the pain meds, but the moment I open my eyes, grogginess is gone, replaced by horror as my gaze lands on the figure currently standing in front of the glass doors. Dark blonde hair is tied up in a no-nonsense tail, and her narrow cheekbones are too much like mine to be denied. Strong arms and narrow shoulders are crossed over a lean figure whose slight stature hides a formidable foe or a very capable ally. Not that she has many of the latter. I still, wondering if I can pretend to sleep until forever. Anything to avoid…this.
I have no idea how I slept through her arrival or Tripp’s departure. One thing I know for sure: I’m going to murder Tripp when I see him again.
She looks up from her phone and right at me—as if I’ve called her name. And maybe I have. Maybe she can hear my breathing change. The woman has the senses of an ethereal being. I almost snort at that. More like a demon. They’re ethereal too, right?
“Hello, Mother,” I say when our eyes meet.
Hers are a dark brown color that never wavers, either in color or aim. Mine are hazel—always changing with my mood. Like my father’s. People say my mother and I look alike, though. The high, narrow cheekbones. Sharp nose. Full mouth. I hope we don’t share similar facial expressions. Hers are much more venomous than anything I imagine myself capable of being. Like the one she’s giving me now.
“Oh good, you’re up,” she says.
No relief. No, “I was so worried.” Just a clear agenda. My waking is one more thing to check off the list.
