Page 23 of Midnight Bond (Wolves of Midnight #5)

brIELLE

I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t pretend to be my usual flamboyant self.

The second the guests started to arrive, I knew I had to bail before they saw what a wretched mess I’d become.

As Mrs. Bailey exuberantly greeted the Midnight Pack members she’d invited to Christmas dinner, I tried slipping past them undetected.

Right before I could make my escape, a familiar broad form filled the doorway, and my heart sank.

The male looked extra handsome with his beard neatly trimmed and his brown hair carefully tied back in a low ponytail. Used to seeing him in flannel shirts and jeans, I was surprised that he’d dressed up for the occasion in a light blue collared shirt and dark slacks.

Deep down, I knew that he’d dressed up for me.

There was a spark of hope in his brown eyes, hope that he could pursue me now that Jagger was out of the picture.

As Midnight Pack’s cleanup guy took in the rest of me, I was suddenly aware of how painfully thin I looked in my green sweater dress and black tights.

“Hi, Buck,” I greeted him, needing his eyes to stop staring at the visible outline of my ribs through the thin sweater material.

“Brielle,” he greeted back, glancing up at my face again with a troubled expression. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough month.”

“Thanks,” I replied, certain now that Mrs. Bailey had told him everything.

Unable to bear the pity in his eyes, I leaned forward to give him a hug and instantly regretted it.

The hard planes of his body were all wrong.

The wolf in me recoiled, instinctively knowing that he wasn’t the male I should be hugging.

Before he could return my hug, I stepped back with a tight-lipped smile. “It’s really good to see you, Buck, but I have to go. I’m sorry.”

The observant male saw far more than I wanted him to in that awkward moment.

He’d never been able to properly pursue me on account of Jagger always getting in the way, but he knew me well enough to know that I wasn’t myself.

Taking me in for another beat, that spark of hope in his eyes faded.

With a small nod, he replied, “I understand. Merry Christmas, Brielle.”

Relief trembled through me. “Merry Christmas, Buck.”

When he stepped aside, I quickly slipped out the front door, grateful that he’d let me go so easily.

That he’d known I didn’t want to be pursued.

Not by him. Not right now. Not ever. And if the jagged pieces of my heart were any indication, I never wanted to be pursued by another male for the rest of my life.

With no destination in mind, I got into my car and took off.

It had been a week since I’d left the house, and despite how lethargic I felt, being outside gave me a small boost of energy.

The sky and roads were free of snow, and I used the opportunity to clear some of the cobwebs from my head.

I drove and drove, cracking a window so the brisk air could cleanse my cloudy senses.

I hadn’t felt much like a werewolf the past couple of weeks.

With my appetite gone and heightened senses dulled, I’d almost felt like a human again. Well, a depressed human.

My wolfy instincts had gone dormant. I hadn’t even experienced hot flashes this month.

It was like my wolf had fallen into depression as well.

I could barely feel her, and even with the cold wind teasing my hair, she didn’t encourage me to lift my nose and breathe it in.

Nothing excited her—excited me—anymore. The world was colorless, and it had painted me in shades of lifeless gray.

I continued driving, trying to escape the yawning pit that called my name. But it was relentless. Ruthless. It didn’t care how miserable I was, how frantic to start fresh and move on with my life. It wanted me to wallow in my misery, to suffer. I was helpless against it, unable to drag myself out.

Trapped. I was trapped.

Panic filled me, and I drove even faster.

Escape. I had to escape before the pit swallowed me whole, before it consumed me completely.

Before it killed me. I was running out of time, more aware than ever of my mortality.

I’d escaped death a year ago, but it wanted me back.

I could feel it in my bones, its chilling breath on my neck.

Death was coming for me, and my time was almost up.

Fear trickled in, pushing aside some of the fog I’d been living in. Death could claim me at any moment, and I was alone. On Christmas. What the hell was I doing out here?

Spurred on by the fear slowly leaking through my body, I veered onto the nearest exit ramp, needing to make things right before it was too late. My hurt and pain didn’t matter right now. If I didn’t say my piece, I’d regret it for the rest of my life—however long that might be.

Two hours later, I was pulling up to a familiar house, one that I’d spent my entire childhood in. Refusing to let my pain get the better of me, I left my car and headed toward the house. Before I’d even cleared the sidewalk, the front door burst open and four figures filed out.

“Brielle!”

At the sound of my mom’s frantic voice, I hurried forward with a whimper.

The second her arms wrapped around me, all of my doubts disappeared, and I desperately hugged her back.

Moments later, another pair of arms encircled me, then another and another.

Realizing that not only my mom and brothers were hugging me, but my dad too, I full out ugly cried.

“I missed you guys s-so much,” I sobbed, barely able to stand under the weight of my relief. They still cared about me. Still loved me.

It still hurt that they didn’t believe I was a werewolf and hadn’t stopped my dad from calling the psych ward on me, but all that mattered right now was this. Being welcomed back with open arms. Not being alone anymore.

My nightmares were unfounded. They hadn’t turned their backs on me. I was still one of them.

“We were so worried,” my mom responded with a sob of her own. “After what happened at Thanksgiving, we feared you’d never come back to us.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll never ghost you like that again.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re here. We’re all here, safe and sound.”

“Well, mostly,” Sawyer said from above me. “Ellie’s nothing but skin and bones.”

“Am not,” I said with a loud sniffle, even though it was true.

“We’ve all lost weight and sleep over what happened, even Dad. Especially Dad,” Zeke cut in.

At that, I pulled back a little. Sure enough, as everyone’s faces came into view, I saw how thin and haggard they all looked. My dad was the worst, though. He looked haunted.

When our eyes met, his expression fell, and he croaked, “I’m so sorry, Brielle. I had no idea. No idea they would treat you like that. I can’t express how ashamed I am for what happened. I only wanted to protect you, but I hurt you instead. Please. Please forgive me.”

“Oh, Daddy, I forgive you,” I choked out and reached for him. As he pulled me into a bear hug, I released some of my misery, letting it fall in droves down my cheeks. We stayed like that for a long time, making up for a year's worth of absence.

“There’s something else,” he finally said, pulling back to look at me. “We . . . we believe you. At least, we’re trying to. It’s the very least we can do after everything we—I—put you through.”

More tears fell, and I wiped them away before whispering, “Thank you.” Knowing they deserved an explanation for what really happened that night, I quickly filled them in.

When I mentioned supernatural hunters, they all shared a dubious glance, but they didn’t dismiss my words.

They were listening. They were accepting who I was now, albeit reluctantly. I could work with that.

“So let me get this straight,” Zeke said when I finished telling them all that I knew. “There are humans out there who hunt werewolves?”

“And other supernaturals, yes.”

Sawyer’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “Other supernaturals? What else is there? Goblins?”

I lightly punched his arm. “No, dummy. Goblins don’t exist. But there are witches and vampires. Oh, and hybrids. I’ve been living with a bunch of them this past year. They’re my pack.”

“That’s so weird,” he muttered, and I punched his arm again, hard enough that he rubbed it with a sound of protest.

“They don’t seem to be taking very good care of you,” my dad said, frowning as he looked me up and down.

“They take very good care of me,” I rebutted, feeling the need to defend my new family. “I’m just . . . grieving the loss of something. I’ll explain everything to you, but maybe we should head inside first. You all look freezing.”

“Oh, thank heavens. I can’t feel my face anymore,” my mom replied and beelined for the house. Zeke and Sawyer laughed and followed after her, but Dad lagged behind to walk beside me at a more sedate pace.

“So, this werewolf business . . .” he haltingly began. “Does it come on once a month, kind of like your period?”

“Daaaad,” I protested, yet a laugh escaped me, the first one I’d heard in weeks.

As I began to explain how shifting worked for regular werewolves, he held open the front door for me.

When I stepped over the threshold, I winced as something sharp stung my side.

I glanced down, expecting to find a loose nail protruding from the doorframe.

Just as I caught sight of something shiny sticking out of the lock hole, a terrible screeching noise filled the air.

I covered my sensitive ears, but the sound cut straight through, so piercing that it felt like knives were stabbing my brain.

I screamed, the agony rendering me immobile within seconds.

Shouts reached my ears, but they were muffled as if I was underwater, as if my ears were filled with blood.

My legs buckled, and Dad caught me, carrying me into the house.

The sound followed me inside, slicing my eardrums into bloody ribbons.

“Make it stop, make it stop!” I cried, curling into a tight ball when he placed me on the couch.

“Make what stop?” he yelled, but I was in too much pain to respond.

The noise pierced me over and over, making it impossible to move, to think, to breathe. Migraines were nothing compared to this level of agony, and with no end in sight, all I could do was writhe on the couch and scream my lungs raw.

After what felt like an eternity of enduring a sound straight from hell, it suddenly switched off.

I stopped screaming but continued to violently shake, the phantom sound of that awful noise still clamoring through my skull. Hands touched me, and I cringed back, my senses extra sensitive.

“It’s off,” I heard Zeke distantly say over the ringing in my ears.

“She’s bleeding,” Sawyer said, and his concern was enough to force my eyes open.

I slowly uncovered my ears and found my trembling hands red with blood. A towel wrapped around them, and I watched my mom wipe them clean. “What,” I rasped, then swallowed and tried again. “What was that?”

“I think it was some kind of high-pitched frequency device,” Zeke replied, showing me what looked like a tiny camera or sensor—one that was now in pieces as if he’d stomped on it.

“It was embedded in the doorframe, so small that I almost didn’t see it.

I’ve been contracted to install a few sound devices over the years, mostly for pest control reasons, but none of them were this high-tech. I swear we didn’t do this, Brie.”

“I know,” I said and tried to sit up. Dad helped me while Mom continued to clean the blood from my hands and ears.

When the room stopped spinning, I added, “It has to be the supernatural hunters. They must have installed it while you were away from the house, sometime after their failed attempt to secure me.”

Dad’s face leached of all color. “Then this was a trap meant to incapacitate you until they could come get you again. You need to leave, Brielle. Now.”

Alarm trickled through me, but I didn’t move, my senses still recovering from the high-pitched sound waves. “B-but what about you guys?”

“They don’t care about us. They only attacked us when we stood in their way. You are the one they want,” my dad vehemently said. “Return to your pack, Brielle. They’re better equipped to protect you.”

I stared at the man who’d raised me, shocked that he’d said such a thing. This past month had definitely taken a toll on him if he was freely willing to admit he could no longer protect me. My whole life, he’d been my steady rock, but now . . .

We lived in different worlds. Mine was dangerous, and if I stayed here much longer, they could get seriously injured this time—or worse.

Knowing I had to leave for not only my sake but theirs, I struggled to stand from the couch. All four of them reached out to help me up, and I fought back tears of gratitude. Pausing to look at each of them, I said, “I love you all. Keep each other safe.”

“We love you too, sweetheart,” my mom whispered, pulling me in for a quick hug before gently nudging me toward the door.

I listened to her urging and turned to leave, but when I hesitated in the doorway, casting one last look at my human family, my dad gave me a tearful smile and said, “Don’t worry, Brielle. You’re always welcome inside these walls.”

My tears spilled over, and I returned his smile with a tremulous one of my own. Bolstered by his words, words I’d desperately needed to hear, I left my childhood home and hurried out into the encroaching night.