Page 70 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
Presumably one-armed and pissed in more ways than one, but not defeated. If anything, my escape and his injury have likely intensified his determination to find me. The coven bond is still intact, meaning Rebecca can still track me. I'm counting on Villeneuve's elixir to keep me functional and the wolves' territorial wards to mask my signature temporarily, but that isn’t a permanent solution.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it with a sense of dread. A bunch of new messages. Two from Cadence, still worried but less frantic now that we’ve talked, and one from an unknown number.
I open it, knowing exactly who it is before I read a single word.
UNKNOWN: Enjoy your time with the dogs while you can, bitch. When Kyle recovers, we're coming for you. And we'll put your boyfriends down like the animals they are.
Rebecca.
I can tell.
She must be beside herself with rage that her precious High Priest lost an arm trying to retrieve me, although I’m admittedly kind of surprised she didn’t drop him like a hot potato when he literally pissed himself. Maybe I should be scared right now, but all I feel is a numb sort of annoyance.
Rebecca always did have a flair for melodrama.
I block the number, but what I really need is a new number, new accounts, new phone, neweverything. Even more tasks for the ever-growing list of shit I need to do to extricate myself permanently from my mess of an old life.
But first, I need to find a way to pay for it.
There's another slew of messages from the group chat that's apparently been going since last night.
NERD: Hey, Regina! This is Micah.
NERD: Ignore the name, Kill started the chat and won't change our names…
Must be from when he added me to the chat. The others wasted no time replying, probably as soon as I got back to my room.
TOP DAWG: Damn right. Text us if you need anything.
OTHER NERD: Or if Sean is being too loud. This is Rowan, btw. Killian isn’t very creative.
KNOTHEAD: I'm never loud. I'm always the exact right volume for the occasion.
NERD: Sure, Sean. When the occasion is a monster truck rally on the Fourth of July.
KNOTHEAD: Ok, you have to admit, that sounds fucking awesome.
TOP DAWG: Stop blowing up her phone, she's trying to sleep.
NERD: Yeah yeah, sorry. Night, Regina!
KNOTHEAD: Sweet dreams, witchy lady. Hopefully about us.
OTHER NERD: Good night.
I roll my eyes as I scroll through the chat, but by the time I'm finished reading, my scars are tugging at the smile on my lips.
These alphas areridiculous.
The bathroom calls to me, and I decide a hot shower is exactly what I need to wash away the remnants of yesterday's chaos. The vintage fixtures gleam in the morning light, and I'm once again struck by the contrast between the house's historic bonesand its current occupants. Four college-aged alpha wolves in an architectural masterpiece that looks like it belongs in a period drama.
I turn on the shower, pleasantly surprised by both the immediate hot water and the impressive pressure. As steam fills the room, I investigate the products lining the built-in shelf. There's an astonishing array of high-end shampoos, conditioners, body washes, and face scrubs. Way more than four guys would reasonably need. Especially since they seem like the types to use one bar for everything.
Well, maybe not Rowan, but definitely the rest.
My initial guess must be right. They raided every Sephora, Ulta, and drug store they could find, grabbing one of everything in preparation for my arrival.
The thought makes me smile and roll my eyes. There's something oddly endearing about their overkill approach to hospitality.
