Chapter Seven
Laura woke, her heart beating like she did a five-kilo race. Three times. Her mouth curled on a snarl.
Wolfsbane.
The shitheads gassed her with it. She felt heavy headed, slightly nauseous, and her body was sore from being handled roughly.
She’d passed out at some point on the trip back, but one inhale confirmed she was in the heart of the place she tried hard to forget. She had three assholes she needed to thank for it, with her foot.
She was in a decent-sized bed, the room neat and tidy, everything in shades of neutral. Obviously used for guests.
She noted the large mirror over the dresser, reflecting the better angle of the room back at her. The curtain beside it leaked sunlight, much of it streaking the bed. On the dresser was a neatly folded stack of clothes.
It was already more than she thought them capable of. She expected to wake in a tiny cell in the ‘dungeon’ of the commons. Her traditional dwelling here.
Hospitality aside, Laura didn’t move an inch from the bed, and not because she wasn’t itching to shove foot up ass.
It reeked of Alphas.
Laura inhaled again, deeply. She didn’t have to guess whose house her ass currently sat in.
The smell, as it covered everything, left a strong residual. And she could tell no one had been inside the house for the last few hours.
Seconds ticked to minutes before she worked the nerve to move towards the dresser. Laura made quick work of removing the soiled clothes for the fresh set laid out for her. She found her sneakers beside the door, kicking them on in the same motion she swung the handle.
Laura peaked around the corner. Everywhere her eyes landed was an ostentatious display of wealth, a stark contrast to the room she was in, which was situated at the end of the right wing of the house. Everything from the decor lining the walkway to the paint coating the walls screamed wasteful.
Her nose was stronger than an Alpha’s, but she was still recovering. So just in case someone was masking their scent well, she carefully shuffled over the thick rug, muffling her steps as much as possible. She moved quickly down the nearest of the two twisting staircases and moved towards the backdoor. She knew it would lead towards the common hall.
Laura had only ever seen the rear of the Alpha’s mansion, much less been inside. She marveled less at the features, and more at how he could possibly afford it compared to the rest of the pack. No one else ever seemed to complain about the Alpha family’s conspicuous consumption though.
Eight feet..
Her breath came quicker as she neared the door.
Click.
"Fuck." Laura mouthed, as the lock turned three feet in front of her. She had a mini panic–dance and all–as her eyes darted around. There was nowhere to hide without mad dashing it twelve feet.
The door swung open, and in walked Patricia Herald.
Lead Omega.
The large woman shuffled in, cleaning equipment in tow. Omegas typically maintained the infrastructure of the various halls in the territory, as well as prepared food in the common hall, and any other odd jobs required.
Laura didn’t know whether to be relieved it wasn’t the Alpha. The woman noticed her then, her frame swiveling to present Laura with her full front.
“What a lucky piece of trash you are.” Laura was leveled with proud brown eyes. Patricia really looked down on her, despite her own position being considered nearly as low as her own.
She couldn’t believe she was ever afraid of the woman.
Though back then, before she renounced the pack as her own, Laura was much smaller. Weaker. Now, even as Omega Patricia still stood taller than her, Laura only felt annoyed.
Lucky? Maybe in the Final Destination sense.
“Excuse me, while this trash takes itself out.” Laura made to go around the woman, anticipating the move to block her as she side-stepped to go around her opposite side. Meaty hands made to grab her, but she hustled out the door, and onto the back patio.
“You are not allowed to leave yet, mutt.” Laura rolled her eyes, if she was truly a mutt, she had the most awesome parentage.
“Alpha Grayson has made it clear to the pack that you are to remain here..in comfort,” she grumbled the latter part.
Laura physically recoiled.
“I think I can do whatever the hell I want. Not a pack bitch anymore.” She flipped two birds. “And since when has my comfort ever mattered.” Laura turned, intending to follow the trail she knew led towards the commons hall, which would then lead to outside territory.
Rather than that attractive option, she nearly slammed nose first into a broad chest. Her surprise was written on her face, and a deep chuckle sounded from the man.
“Your comfort has always mattered, Laura.” His heavy hand landed on her shoulder. Her spine turned to ice.
Alpha Grayson.
He was masking his scent, and she was so focused on the one she’d just spun from, she didn’t register his approach. That’s an Alpha for you. The difference in ability was obvious, and ability varied greatly from person to person. She hated to admit he was a force in the power department.
To a human, Garret Grayson would appear the perfect, well-to-do, middle-aged man. He was well built, over six feet tall. His blond, greying, hair cropped nearly too short for the comfort of most wolf shifters. Michael had recounted whispers he was eyeing an office in the local human government...
His blue eyes, clear and stark, were nearly as blinding as his teeth. His smile was practiced, as he looked down at her, his face angles stretching. It was anything but friendly.
She suddenly felt like the pack’s mule again.
“Laura… Hm. You never did have a surname, did you?” He mused aloud, while all she could feel was the growing weight of his palm; the same palm that had split her lip into something so gnarly, if she didn’t have her abilities she might not have a fully functioning mouth. “Well, it’s much too late to be—what was that?”
“Just Laura is fine,” she mumbled the words again, barely above a whisper. Unlike with Patricia, Laura avidly watched the grass sway, counting the number between breaths.
It was silly to think she’d beaten her biggest demons when all she did was turn around and pretend they weren’t there. She may have gotten the courage to leave, but fight him she would not.
She could not.
Laura stole glances at the woods that hugged the mansion. The tree line wasn’t more than ten feet away. The dense area wasn’t large and certainly didn’t lead outside of the territory, but she could at least lose someone inside. And running was what Laura did best, though recent events would say being captured was her forte. The only problem, she looked back at the Alpha’s feet, she wasn’t entirely sure she could leave if he didn’t want her to.
His eyes burned a hole in her forehead. She was too aware of the breaths he took as he stared.
Shuffling came from behind her as Patricia moved forward, stopping at her side.
Laura sided her a glance.
The Omega’s head was down in respect for the Alpha, while hers was locked by fear.
“Yes, that will do. It can just be Laura of Pack Grayson.” Her brow shot to her hairline, and she raised her head to look at him. He raised a brow in turn but said nothing as he removed his hand.
The weight a heavy linger.
No.
What the fuck was he deluding about? She didn’t leave this place to be half-assedly welcomed back. It was clear no one wanted her there. She didn’t want her there. She still didn’t even know why the hell they went through the trouble of dragging her back.
No, no, no.
“Alpha Grayson. I am no longer a member of this pack.” Laura swallowed the lump in her throat.
His smile didn’t change.
“Yes, that reminds me. We need to do a rebranding as well.” He trailed in thought as every word he spoke kicked her heart rate.
He snapped his fingers at Patricia.
“Go fetch me the small book from my desk and–actually, check Derek’s room, I believe I loaned it to him for study.” He tapped his chin as his eyes rolled toward the sky. Laura took a small step closer to the woods.
“Yes, Alpha Grayson.” The Omega quickly retreated into the house, leaving Laura to stand alone with him, her mouth drying in anxiety.
Her thoughts were beginning to churn with the shame and slanders of her past. One of the greatest contributors standing uncomfortably close.
“Alpha Grayson, I have no intention of returning to the pack.” It’s been ten years since she left at the age of sixteen, and no one seemed to lift much of a finger when she renounced Pack Grayson then, speaking the words of abandonment to rid herself of the pack mark that branded her shoulder blade.
“Normally I wouldn’t insist,” he spoke honestly, “ but you’ve been selected from the pack.”
“For what?” She ran through all potential scenarios, coming up blank.
“As a candidate.”
Except that.