Page 114 of Unforgivable

I blink my eyes open. It's not easy. My eyelashes are stuck together a little. I pry them open and glance around, frowning at the strange cabin I'm in.

"It is a heat cabin. For couples, you understand?" a raspy voice greets my ears.

I jerk my head around and narrow my eyes at the mountain male. Fucking hell, how the fuck did I get here?

"Why the fuck am I here?" I snap. I sound hoarse. My throat aches and little. Truthfully, my muscles ache, too. I sit up, and the scent hits me. Rusty copper. I look down. I'm covered in blood that isn't my own.

A sense of absolute dread washes over me. "What did I do?" I whisper. My head is pounding; the taste in my mouth is cotton soaked in copper. I'm hungover... and I think I may have killed someone.

"You have killed one of the betrayers."

Shit.

"Who?"

"One of the males." he shrugs, clearly unconcerned. "You did not say who."

I stare at the weirdo mountain male. His mouth is pinched a little too tightly. Dark circles under his eyes make him look like a raccoon. His posture, while still proud, is slumped over.

"Where is the body?" I ask.

The mountain male stands and walks out without another word. I struggle to my feet and follow him.

Outside, next to a hole dug into the soft ground, is Mike Ferguson. He's barely recognizable, but the distinctive white-blond hair gives him away. Holy fucking shit, I ripped this male to shreds, and I can't even remember doing it.

"No one saw," the mountain male says. "He was on patrol. He is not good at patrol," the male adds, unnecessarily.

"So I attacked him in the woods?"

The male nods. "Very impressive," he tells me.

I just nod faintly. Fucking hell.

"I will bury him here on our land. Your alpha will not find out. This is good, yes?"

I don't know why I say it, but I blurt out, "he's eleventh. The eleventh male. There's three more. I only know of one. Cal Jensen, that fucker."

Brown eyes narrow on my face. "I will find them."

OK. Shit. I mean, that's good, right? No one will suspect this mountain male of killing off RustClaw wolves. It says something about our security, but what the fuck do I care?

I look down at my ripped clothes. My pants are gone. So are my shoes. I must have shifted with my clothes on. "Where are my clothes?" I ask him.

He nods his head at a pile that I didn't see. I take off the remnants of my outfit and chuck everything in the hole, then help him roll Mike into it.

"Stream, there." He indicates a direction with his head. "I will bury him."

I go to the stream and submerge myself in the cold water. Scrubbing away at my hair and face, I let the water chase away the last of my hangover.

While I bathe, I hear the scrape of the shovel. I don't know if the chills running up and down my skin are from the cold water or the sound of that shovel burying Mike.

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