Page 57

Petra gives a dismissive wave. “Be safe.”

“I’m just walking to the pack house.”

“You know what I meant.”

They hug once more, then Sascha takes his leave. Walking is his only option for getting to the pack housewithout alerting someone to his leaving the clinic. Petra forbade him from shifting, which isn’t unfair, so he’s left plodding down the road and hoping his body doesn’t give out before he can steal his car back, along with—hopefully—his phone. Petra plans to call it approximately when he should be arriving at the pack house, in case Samuel left the ringer on.

He’s only a quarter of the way into the walk, if that, when a car pulls off the road and stops next to him. Sascha swears under his breath, grimacing when he sees Aunt Marty, always way too perceptive, get out of the car.

“What’re you doing?” Marty asks, planting her hands on her hips.

“Um,” Sascha says.

Marty purses her lips. “Where are you going?”

That’s an easier answer. “The pack house.”

“And you’re walking, why…?”

“Um,” he says again. “Petra’s car is out of commission and I had to get something from my room. She cleared me to get some exercise.”

“Right,” Marty says slowly. Then she opens the passenger door. “I have to go to the pack house to take care of some business in the kitchen. I’ll give you a ride.”

Sascha almost wants to say ‘no’ but doesn’t have a good reason to do so. He glances at the dashboard clock. “Why this late?”

“Samuel didn’t say. Something about unexpected guests, though.”

Presumably, Celeste is still making a nuisance of herself. Sascha frowns but doesn’t have anything to say, and Marty doesn’t push him. The ride to the pack house is less than ten minutes, but it’s tense, and by the time they pull into the several-cars-deep drive, Sascha feels about ready to rip his skin off.

“Thanks, Marty.”

“Stop by the kitchen so I can give you something to eat,” is all she says before walking off.

The problem with getting a ride to the house is that Petra won’t be calling his phone for some time. Sascha rushes to catch up to Marty. “Hey, I kinda lost my phone in my room. When you get to the kitchen, could you, uh, call it? I haven’t had it since I’ve been in the clinic.”

Marty gives him a long look, then nods. “I’ll call twice, just in case.” Then with a wave of her hand, she turns down the hall toward the kitchen, leaving Sascha to break off toward the residential wing where he lives with his closest immediate relatives.

Sascha is already sweating when he gets to the hallway leading to the master bedroom. Samuel doesn’t lock his door, presumably because Sascha hasn’t snuck in there since he was a kid, and no one else would dare. Finding the key to Sascha’s car isn’t difficult because Samuel leaves his own car keys and wallet in a dish on his dresser. Sascha pockets the fob, then waits for Marty’s call, praying that his phone, wherever it is, is charged and has the ringer on.

Sure enough, Lady Gaga’s muffled voice singsRah, rah, rah-ah-ahfrom the top drawer of Samuel’s bedside stand. Sascha’s lucky as hell that his father is so organized. He quickly answers the call, muttering, “Found it. Thanks Marty,” before hanging up and making a getaway as quickly as possible.

Samuel will smell that Sascha has been in his room, so Sascha has to get gone before his dad returns to their residential wing. He makes it out safely, and with a breath of relief, Sascha slips into one of the side passages so he has less chance of running into someone on the way to the kitchen. He’d normally beg off, but doesn’t want to irritate Marty after she helped him.

After the first part of his plan went so smoothly, it figures that the final leg would produce unforeseen complications.Just around the corner, by the kitchen entrance, Sascha can hear Celeste’s brash voice arguing with Samuel, who is finally starting to lose his composure.

“I don’t share your grudge,” he’s saying. “I’ve offered you all I can. Once our cooks finish the food for your pack, I expect you to leave our land.”

So that’s why Marty returned to the kitchen. Celeste must have convinced Samuel he owed her, and he agreed to keep the peace.

Either Celeste doesn’t know what she’s about to uncover in Samuel, or she doesn’t care, which is more likely. “I thought youwantedto get rid of any unwelcome alphas near your territory.”

Sascha can’t stop himself from popping around the corner. “Why don’t you just leave Avery the fuck alone?” He regrets it immediately when Samuel’s head snaps around, and he pins Sascha under the full force of an unexpected glare.

“Alexander, what are you doing here?”

“I… Marty gave me a ride to pick up some food for Petra. Since her, you know, her car’s… out of commission.”

It’s not a bad explanation, but his father’s expression doesn’t soften. “Someone else could have done that. You’re supposed to be recovering at the clinic.”