Page 45 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
Holy fuck—where am I?
Oh. Right.
Wolves.
Kyle's torn off arm.
Villeneuve.
My body feels surprisingly rested despite everything, as if I've slept for days instead of hours. The elixir Villeneuve gave me must have been potent stuff. My muscles don't ache anymore, and that bone-deep exhaustion that's been my constant companion since fleeing from Kyle has lifted, at least somewhat.
I untangle myself from silk sheets and pad toward the window, drawn by the crisp autumn light. The view from my second-floor room overlooks manicured grounds that transition into wild forest. Beautiful. Peaceful, even.
Until I seethem.
Golden eyes watching from between distant trees. Unblinking. Alert.
"Fuck," I mutter, pressing closer to the glass.
The eyes disappear the instant I focus on them, like smoke dissolving. But I know what I saw. The wolves are still here, lurking just beyond Villeneuve's wards. Watching. Waiting.
I back away from the window, hugging myself. The enormity of my situation crashes down again. I'm trapped between competing predators. Kyle's coven hunting me from one side, four wolf shifters claiming me as their "mate" from the other.
And I'm caught in the middle with a rapidly dwindling supply of magic and no permanent bond to replace the one tying me to Kyle.
Speaking of magic...
I reach inside myself, feeling for my reserves. Surprisingly, I find them partially replenished. Not nearly full strength, but leagues better than the hollow emptiness of last night. Whatever was in Villeneuve's elixir didn't just ease my physical exhaustion. It restored some of my magical energy too.
Enough, perhaps, for a glamour.
I stand before the ornate mirror on the dresser, reluctantly studying my reflection. Three years, and I still can't look at myself without feeling physically ill.
I reach for my magic, carefully channeling it into the familiar pattern of the glamour spell. It settles over me like a second skin, smoothing ruined tissue into an illusion of unmarred beauty.The spell takes hold, and suddenly I'm looking at the face I pretend is mine.
Whole and perfect and a lie.
It costs more energy than I should probably spend right now. I have no idea how long this reprieve at Villeneuve's will last, and I’m sure it isn’t the last I’ve seen of Kyle and his coven. But I can't face another day—can't face Villeneuve again, either—with my scars exposed.
Yesterday's humiliation is still too raw.
I put on clothes from my duffel bag. It’s just jeans and a simple black t-shirt, but I'm thankful to have something of my own in this strange place. My phone shows three missed calls from Cadence since my text last night, and one text saying “ANSWER MEEEEE” with progressively more and more unhinged gifs, so I text her back before making my way downstairs.
REGINA: Sorry, I was sleeping hard. Can I call you later this afternoon?
CADENCE: OMG, yes. You can call me NOW if you want, too, you know. I’m coming for your ass. I will drag you home kicking and screaming if I have to.
REGINA: I can’t right now, but I promise, we’ll be in touch soon, ok? I’m fine and I’m safe.
CADENCE: Ok, WHY can’t you call me right now?
REGINA: I’m about to have breakfast.
CADENCE: Perfect time to call!
REGINA: It’s hard enough for me to eat with my scars without trying to talk at the same time.
CADENCE: Did that dick not at least make himself useful and, um, fix that?
