Wow, it's been about a week and a half? Something like that, anyway... Sorry it took me awhile to update, everyone, but I've decided to update a every other week to give me enough leeway to continue to write the next chapters. I hope y'all are enjoying your summer!

Also, please excuse any grammar mistakes or typos within these chapters as I am not perfect and I tend to miss things. Please give me feedback via review about your thoughts on this chapter! Next chapter should be up in the week of July. Thanks for reading and being patient with me ^_^

-Delyth


"Relief is a great feeling. It's the emotional and physical reward we receive from our bodies upon alleviation of pain, pressure, and struggle. A time to bask in the lack of the negative. And yet, think about it—relief is really the status quo, a negation of the suffering, a nothing in itself. It is the way things were before the pressure and struggle began. So, is it a step back? A regression? Or is it an opportunity to regroup, start over, and move in a different direction?"—Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration


Chapter Two

Relief

Ari was forced to sit in a chair Mac had pulled out of the office with very little prompting from Ms. Thompson—Mercy, as the mechanic had refused to be called 'Ms. Anything'. She didn't really have a sound argument to refute both of them from forcing her sit out of the clean-up; so, she scooted the chair until she could rest the back of her head against the wall. The moment of near silence was practically bliss as she closed her eyes, listening to Mercy instruct the boy on how to drive a bus that didn't have working brakes. It was entertaining to say the least as they made the bus crawl its way down the road where the dead wolf was. Her hearing was sharper than a human, but she had to strain herself in order to hear what they mumbled to one another. In the end, she decided that a short nap was in order.

She shifted more comfortably in the chair, pulling her thin legs up to her chest and moving the blanket around until she was a hundred percent sure none of her skin was showing. With a sigh, she drifted off into a light sleep that never fully allowed her consciousness to enter the world of dreams. She was lucky that she had gotten that far since this would be the first time she slept in last several weeks. Either the nightmares kept her awake or the men coming to drag her out of the cage for another routine 'examination'. The soothing whisper of the wind, the warmth of the blanket wrapping around her, and the irrefutable realization that she was free kept the worse of her dreams away.

Several minutes must've passed since the gentle gales lulled her to sleep because the bus was drifting its way back to the garage where it had been parked originally. A bright blue orb peeked behind thick eyelashes as one of the hangers opened with a rusty groan before quieting. Her stomach rolled and knotted uneasily as Mercy dragged the wolf she'd killed into the garage. The burning scent of death and blood and meat wafted over to Ari, punching her in the gut as the fresh meat called to her in such way she'd never been called before. She swallowed, the overflow of saliva frightening her a bit as she stared at it with hungry eyes. The logical side of her soul shied away at eating anything remotely human, but her primal twin demanded sustenance after many moons of refusing food while locked in a cage. She was starving too and the bastard deserved every horrible thing she could think of; however, she wasn't going to let her hunger drive her into doing things she didn't want.

Biting her tongue to distract herself seemed to work as she watched them settle the carcass on the farthest side of the shop. Her fingers threatened to snap against one of the armrests while the other clutched the blanket to her chest like a shield. All of her muscles were tensing, preparing for the initial launch at the corpse that was just lying there like a roasted pig on a silver platter. Without realizing it, the twin sapphires of her gaze darkened to an imposing indigo, a unique blend of dark azure and deep violet. The wolf was too close to the surface, feral in her hunger and not at all willing to understand that even though there was meat for them to eat, it wasn't right. But, Ari often forgot that animals don't always comprehend the morals of society nor do they care to learn them.

Mercy's voice sounded far away as she appeared on the left side of her peripheral. "Artemis? Can you hear me?"

It took every ounce of strength she had to tear her gaze away from the carcass just a few measly feet away from her, but she did it. At the mechanic's mild flinch when their gazes locked, Ari stated with careful slowness, "I'm so hungry, but it ain't right to eat 'im even though he's a bastard."

"That's right. It's not a good idea to eat him," Mercy agreed soothingly.

Mac plopped down beside her, his arm knocking into the seat cushion, and he reached up to hold onto the chair. His hand squeezed and she could hear the distinct whining of the metal attached to the bottom of her seat. "Is it normal…?"

Despite not having finished his question, the mechanic answered simply, almost as if their conversation wasn't the least bit odd. "Perfectly natural. Though, a deer not only tastes better, it's easier to live with afterward." Ari's stomach gurgled loudly in response to that thought and Mercy quickly changed the subject. "How long have the two of you been werewolves?"

"Two months." Mac looked away from the grotesque thing that currently shared their breathing space and closed his eyes. She continued to glance at it, finding the weird half-changed man lying in a pool of his own blood more appetizing as the minutes passed. "It killed my girlfriend, but I survived…sort of."

She gagged, horrified by her thoughts and focused her attention elsewhere. Mercy watched her with rapture, her eyes taking in the fight Ari was desperately trying to win no matter how tired she was. After swallowing repeatedly to keep the bile at bay, she choked out, "What month is it?"

"November."

Ari lifted her head until it rested against the wall again and closed her eyes in a brief bout of despair. "Almost four years. I used to live in Mississippi but Dad moved his company up to Chicago. My twin and I were walkin' back from a movie when…" She took a deep breath, "I don't remember much after that."

"You look a lot younger than me though," he turned a little so he could get a better look at her face.

"Once you Change at the next full moon, you stop aging." Mercy's brows furrowed in thought as she tried to place Ari's age.

To save her from the time and figuring out the math, Ari gave a tight grin. "Just turned thirteen a few days before that monster tore into me."

The horror that flickered across the older woman's face surprised the she-wolf as she watched her try to reel in her reaction. Was it such a phenomenon that she had survived such a traumatic experience? She wasn't sure what to make of Mercy's shock, but she'd have to remember to ask about it later when she wasn't fighting to remain in her chair.

After a brief moment of silence, Mercy turned her attention to Mac again. "What happened afterward? How did those men find you? Are you from the Tri-Cities?"

"No, I'm from Naperville," at both women's blank stares, he added, "Illinois. Near Chicago. I'm not sure who those men were other than that they took me from Chicago."

Ari held a hand over his eyes when his gaze settled on the dead body once again. She stubbornly kept her palm where it was, despite Mac's irritation, and focused on the mechanic before her with newfound determination. If she could survive years without much food and endure numerous sessions of experiments, then she can force her wolf's desires (and hers, for that matter) down. "It's a little convenient we're both attacked at the same place, ain't it?"

"My thoughts exactly," Mercy nodded. "What happened when you woke up, Mac?"

He shoved her hand away from his face with a huff and said, almost in a slight daze as if he was mulling over something in his head. "I woke up in someone's basement in a cage and there was a man in the room with me. When I opened my eyes, he said, 'Good, you'll live. Leo will be happy to see it.'"

"Wait a second. Leo? As in Leo James? Looks kind of like he should be a Nordic skiing champion? Tall, long, and blond."

Ari watched as the older woman practically leaned forward in her growing anticipation for his answer. She didn't know who Leo was, but it wouldn't surprise her much if he had something to do with why they were both in this mess. The name didn't sound familiar to her like Mr. Hauptman's had been, but maybe no one had mentioned the other man's name when she woke up? The basement and cage were obtainable if she dug deep enough, however, the rest remained fuzzy and muffled. While she was grateful her subconscious had taken up the job of keeping her from going insane, now would've been a good time to release any and all information she had on the assholes who had ruined her life as well as Lily's.

Mac was suddenly anxious, his shoulders hunching slightly in a pathetic attempt to protect himself from the memories. She patted his back, "Everythin's gonna be okay, remember?"

That seemed to help him as he nodded and took another deep breath. "I think that's him. Anyway, he came down the stairs and was arguing with another man about money, I think. They wouldn't answer any of my questions or talk to me. It was like I was some kind of painting they were auctioning off." He rubbed his arms, "It's too weird—crazy, you know? I still have a hard time believing any of this."

You and me both, she thought as Mercy said gently, "I know it's hard, but from one fellow shifter to another, you're just going to have to take it one step at a time. What else happened?"

"They kept arguing about a price for another hour. I think he sold me for twelve thousand dollars." The matter-of-fact way he spoke about it had her heart leap into her throat and outrage surge through body. She didn't blame him at all for doubting his sanity—all of this was supposed to be a part of some Hollywood movie, not reality.

Not even Mercy seemed quite sure she heard him correctly as she repeated his last sentence in the same tone he had used. She pondered the idea over in her head while Ari and Mac waited patiently (or well, more impatiently as they desperately needed a distraction). "Don't worry," she shot a grin at their perplexed expressions and patted Mac's knee. "When we tell Adam what has happened to both of you then Leo's a walking dead man. The Marrok won't allow an Alpha to take profit in creating new wolves and selling them to the highest bidder."

Ari could feel the full weight of the title she had just uttered, and there was no doubt in her mind that it was a title not to be given so easily to anyone else. The capital 'M' was discernable even if she hadn't said it in such a serious voice. "Who's the, uh, Marrok?"

Was she even pronouncing it correctly? It felt weird on her tongue, her lips forming the necessary consonants and vowels in a slow drawl that seemed to butcher it. She'd never heard of such a word in all her life, which in of itself wasn't that long. There was a lot she hadn't heard or learned since her attack. She never thought that she would even be wishing to go back to school and pick up where she left off. Lily would laugh outright at her near mentioning of it—it was always her twin who loved to attend school and learn. It took all three of her siblings plus their mother to pull her out of bed every morning, and they still had to fight her every step of the way to get ready, eat breakfast, then get in the car before they were all late. "Being late," as Mom had said, "was never an option."

"Other than the occasional rogue, all werewolves are organized into packs under a single Alpha wolf. In the U.S., all packs follow the Marrok, a title taken from one of King Arthur's knights who was also a werewolf. The Marrok and his pack have oversight of all the werewolves in North America."

"Wait, wait, wait! King Arthur and Camelot were real?" Ari blurted, unable to halt her burst of excitement over the matter. She'd always liked the tales of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Tints of rose spread along her cheeks as she glanced down and wished desperately that her hands were where she could see them. It would give her something to focus on without appearing like she was avoiding the other live occupants in the shop.

Softly, and with a bit of amusement, Mercy replied, "You'd have to ask one of the older wolves to answer your question, Artemis, but I'd like to think so."

She lifted her head, her eyes glittering. "That is so cool."

Mac shook his head at her bout of childishness. "So there are more of us out there?"

"Yes," Mercy cleared her throat again. Time to get back to the matter at hand, much to Ari's disappointment. "Maybe as many as two thousand in the U.S., five to six hundred in Canada, and maybe four hundred in Mexico."

That's a lot and she didn't even say anythin' 'bout the rest of the world. Does that mean there're werewolves in Africa and Australia? Probably a bunch in Europe, too…Kinda ironic that we humans thought we're the top of the food chain when we ain't.

"How do you know so much about werewolves?" Mac inquired, keeping the conversation towards Mercy.

"I was raised by them." Ari felt him shudder against her chair as he inhaled deeply—too deeply to be just for breathing. She didn't blame him, the scent of fresh, bloody meat was so good that she had to keep wiping away any possibly drool from her lips. Mercy noticed it too and continued, "Do you know what they wanted with you?"

"They were looking for a cure and would put some weird drugs in my food—I could smell them but I was hungry so I ate anyway. They'd give me shots sometimes too and one time they used a dart gun when I refused to cooperate." He turned to Ari then, his eyes feverish now but still sane as he said with a bit of envy, "She never had to take anything and they kept her away from the rest of us."

"Why was that?"

Ari shrugged, "I don't know. When it was me and Lily, we'd be in the same room as the rest, but I kept gettin' all the wolves rowdy so they moved us." She scowled at Mac, a fierce glint entering her gaze as the wolf peered through. "If I'd a choice, kid, I'd have join the group bein' drugged any damn day. I hated bein' forced to act like a guinea pig for y'all to play with."

"To play with? You mean they would let loose those werewolves on you?" Mercy couldn't hide the distress in her tone as Ari nodded.

"At first, they'd switch me and Lils out so we'd have a restin' period, but when she disappeared one day, I had double duty." She closed her eyes, "It…It was very hard to keep goin'. Anyway, it's not like it's their fault. Whatever they'd pump 'em up with, it made 'em a little—I don't know, more aggressive yet loopy. It was weird."

"Drugs don't work on werewolves," Mercy said, shaking her in mild dismay. "Your metabolism is too high for the them to get through your system."

Mac smiled tightly, "These did."

"I believe you, both of you, but if this is all true then things just got a lot more complicated." She paused, tilting her head slightly to the left.

He looked at her inquisitively but Ari heard it as well, the distinctive purr of a car pulling up. "What's wrong?"

The older woman stood up, brushing off her backside and the front of pants. "Don't you hear the car?"

It took him a moment to remember that his ears were a lot more sensitive than he realized, but he nodded slowly. She gave them both an encouraging smile, "There are advantages to being a werewolf. One of them is being able to hear and smell better than the average Joe. I'm going to go see who it is."

Looking somewhat hopeful, Mac watched her head toward the door. "Maybe it's that guy you called."

Ari's heart sank to the general vicinity of her knees as the mechanic shifter shook her head. "It's not his car."

As she headed outside to confront whoever had just driven up, Ari turned to Mac with grim, tired eyes. She suddenly felt very, very tired of this roller coaster of emotions. If there wasn't a dead body about ten feet away from her then she'd gladly collapse into a snoring heap against the wall, but Mac needed someone to keep him from doing something he'd regret. It was clear to her that he didn't have the will nor the understanding that he could fight the instincts of the wolf if he concentrated. His attention was firmly on the dead wolf's corpse and she refused to so much as glance over that way despite the scent of meat permeating the air to tempt her. You're better than that, she kept repeating to herself like a mantra. She was still Artemis Jones, a teenage girl with the strange ability to manipulate inanimate objects, as well as the beast that shared the other half of her soul. And right now, she was in charge not the wolf.

"Hey, Mac," she tapped his shoulder when he didn't look at her. "What was Megan like? Your girlfriend."

He swallowed a few times, his body instinctively leaning forward, "I'd known her since I was a little boy—she was my next door neighbor and we were always in the same class each year."

"What'd she look like?"

"She looked a lot like you," he whispered, his voice becoming more dream-like as he became entranced. Ari bit her lip, suddenly unsure if she could hold him back if he tried to make a go at the body. "Dark brown hair, blue-gray eyes. She was so smart and loved to read books instead of going outside. Had to practically drag her to prom with me."

"Mac…" She grabbed his arm in a tight grip, forgetting the blanket in favor of stopping him. His head never once turned to look at her as he struggled against her weakening hold. It was annoyingly funny how weak she was. She felt like a kitten holding his finger hostage in a bout of playful bites and scratches. "Hey! Stop it!"

Apparently finished with her poor attempts at stopping him and too aroused by the scent of meat, he whipped around and snarled. She braced herself for the inevitable backhand as his eyes flashed icy gold. Her scream barely began as she sailed through the air before crashing into a bunch of those tool boxes with wheels. Black spots spread across her vision as agony erupted along her back and head. As much as she wanted to fight unconsciousness, the unrelenting waves pulled her under just as she heard Mercy open the door.

~o~

Her head pounded against the thick walls of her skull as she blinked her eyes open with a slight whimper that seemed suddenly too loud in the silence of Mercy's shop. She inhaled sharply as her back shouted angrily at her to be still when she tried to climb to her knees—a very difficult task after slamming into a bunch of heavy metal toolboxes. Her spinal cord had to have broken from the impact, but she couldn't really say that since she was no doctor. Hopefully it was just her over exaggerating the damage because the surplus amounts of pain radiating up and down her spine. Next time, she'll just let the boy become a cannibal and save herself the trouble of learning how to fly.

She couldn't see clearly, the images distorted and blurred as she peered around a few tools that had fallen from the shelves that were just behind her crashing pad. What she could see though was a large man with a stout and broad frame making his way over to her with a delicate slowness once he noticed her eyes peering at him. She couldn't see Mac anywhere but there was the distinct sound of canid panting somewhere in the room. A blurred image of Mercy walked two steps behind the unfamiliar man, and while she had to trust that this was the Alpha the older woman had called for help, she didn't want anyone near her.

Fear surged through her as a wave of unadulterated power (and she wasn't sure what else to describe the feeling that had washed over her entire being) halted any attempts of crawling away. Her breathing became short, heaving gasps that quickly worsened as they grew near. Surely she would pass out again from lack of oxygen if she didn't calm down, but sweet oblivion wouldn't come and the wolf refused to lie passively while some stranger stood over them. They couldn't risk being hurt again—clearly no man could be trusted if they were so willing to harm her for their own agendas. Mercy may trust him, but Ari wasn't going to make the same mistake of sharing such a precious trait so easily again.

It could have been anger or terror that made her come to the conclusion that Mac had attacked her on purpose, but it was more likely the abuse she had suffered over the years that had forced her to Change. She snarled a warning, her hand grotesque and distorted as bones broke and reformed to create a wolf's paw but it served her purpose as she swiped out at them in pathetic warning. Pain, hot and blinding, shot through her system as her back bowed and her legs snapped loudly in the frozen air. The last remnants of her shirt ripped away, but even that tiny piece of cloth burned against her raw skin as her muscles grew bulkier. She released a half-scream, half-howl as her vertebrae lengthened to create a bony tail, her legs restructured into the wolf's strong forelegs and hind legs, and her face elongated into a snout. Her cheekbones collapsed and reshaped, her blunt teeth lengthened to intimidating fangs, and her nose became black and padded with two slits for her nostrils. Two ears, one slightly bent at an awkward angle from a break two years ago due to a fight, appeared on either side of her head.

There was a moment of stillness as her body finished the last steps of the Change, the in-between stage of when fur began to form and her hands and feet finally shifted to paws were agonizing. If she had to pick what she hated the most about shifting, then this limbo-like stage would always win. As dark brown mixed with hints of burgundy fur sprouted along her back to spread evenly throughout, Ari heard another wolf's claws clicking along the hard surface. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the aftershocks of the Change while she was still hurt and snapped her fangs in the other wolf's direction. He was obviously larger than her as she was forced to tilt her head up slightly in order to meet his golden gaze with spitting indigo. A white strip travelled the length of his snout and a single white foot that contrasted against the dark gray of his fur lowered his head as he whined.

Her teeth glinted from the overhead lights as she crouched, a low growl erupting from her throat as her vision began to focus again. The Change had fixed her eyesight and she shifted her stance until she could keep both the gray wolf and the two humans in her line of sight. The man watched her with a frown, his face almost devoid of expression if it wasn't for the inhuman pale gold of his eyes to give away his fury. His skin was almost as dark as Mercy's, his short and neat brown hair could pass military inspection with ease, and she began to grow more desperate the longer she stared at him. Any confrontation with him in her current condition would get her killed and she wouldn't even last against the gray wolf who was clumsy in his gait as he lumbered toward her.

Only by the harsh clack of her teeth near his front foreleg made him stop in his tracks and as much as she hated it, she backed away until her tail brushed against the toolbox. She wouldn't have anyone sneaking by her—she wasn't going to be taken by this unknown male.

"How long has she been a wolf, Mercy?" The man asked, his attention never wavering from her crouched form and bared teeth.

The woman—no, her name was Mercy, not some nameless stranger who was going to hurt her. Ari knew her, she'd helped her run away, helped save her and Mac from those horrible humans. Granted, she didn't really know her that well either, but it helped soothe her a bit. "Almost four years. She had a twin sister but one day she simply vanished."

"She has a lot more control than I would think possible considering how she was reborn." Their voices were soft, gentle despite the clear worry in Mercy's face and anger in the man's. "A normal wolf who experienced that much trauma would have to be put down. Her wolf should be rampaging, not watching us."

Mercy seemed to agree with him, but said, "She tried to stop Mac from eating that other wolf just before you came in."

"Did you now." It wasn't a question as he locked gazes with her. One eye was surrounded by black fur in a small circle and it created an almost haunting glow to the deep blue eyes as they met his. She felt it then, the slow return of her sanity she continued to meet his stare and the wolf reluctantly backed away as Ari found the will to do so. She'd been so terrified, so panicked by being so vulnerable that she'd willingly gave up her control over her own body in order to dive into another that was stronger and more fortified than her own human skin. "Everything will be alright, Artemis. My name is Adam Hauptman and you will be safe with me."

The fist that had locked tightly around her heart since she'd first awoke to this new life as something other finally released its hold. Maybe it was the utter truth in his words that had convinced her she was going to be alright or the fact that her wolf seemed to trust him enough that she didn't try to fight Ari for control again. Either way, her legs collapsed and she fell back to the cement flooring with little care. Man, she was so exhausted. All she wanted was to sleep for the next year and never wake up again.

A sigh of relief spread across the room as Ari closed her eyes and allowed Mr. Hauptman to approach her. His hands, coarse from his work probably, touched the matted fur along her head and ears in a kind petting that instantly washed the pain, fear, and panic away. She was safe, no one was going to hurt her, and she never had to live in a cage surrounded by blood and death again. Everything was going to be okay for the first time in the four years she was a werewolf. He ran his hands through her sides, feeling her ribcage easily through her fur, and took stock of her other injuries with a critical eye. His tongue clicked against his teeth in sympathy, "They must have really wanted to make you suffer while you were there, huh, sweetheart? We'll get you fed and fixed up in no time."

His knees popped a little as he stood up again, "Alright, Mercy, have Elizaveta come in."

A flash of irritation showed in her eyes as she turned on her heel with a grumble and Ari tilted her head to the side in curiosity as she left the room again. She didn't have much time to ponder about the strange reaction from the other shapeshifter as Mac plopped down beside her with small huff. His larger and heavier frame offered enough body heat for the both of them, and she hadn't noticed how cold she was until he had lied down. It was nice to say the least as Adam wandered over to the dead werewolf, she guessed that they weren't going to try anything with his back turned and why would they anyway? He was the Alpha of a large pack and could easily kill them if he had wanted to.

Mr. Hauptman crouched down beside the body, his nose flaring as he took in the scent. When Mercy returned with a thin, old crone attached to her arm who wore heavy robes that were unfamiliar except for the pictures in her history book about Russian life during the Romanov dynasty. In any case, the strange woman had a look about her that demanded respect and fear, and Ari barely paid attention to the younger man who was dressed in more Americanized clothing and stood just to the woman's right. Mr. Hauptman greeted her by her full name, something that had a lot of v's in it and would only serve to make her tongue form a pretzel if she tried to pronounce it. She knew just enough of the distinctive qualities each of the major languages had to recognize the crisp pronunciations of Russian to recognize it by ear. What had surprised her into pricking her ears, was the fact that Mr. Hauptman knew enough to speak it without tripping over it.

As the old crone replied to Mr. Hauptman in her native tongue, he shook his head no with whatever question she had asked. "Not quite yet. Do you think you can reverse his change?"

She spoke rapidly to the man beside her and they conversed for a few more minutes before she nodded toward the dead werewolf. "I believe so. In any case, I can certainly try."

Mr. Hauptman nodded and turned his attention to Mercy who had somehow gotten her arm freed from the iron grip the old woman had on it. "You wouldn't happen to have a camera and an ink stamp pad around here, Mercy?"

Why would she have either one of those things here to begin with? Doesn't she work on cars?

Despite Ari's disbelief, Mercy nodded, "I'll go get them." And disappeared behind the office door.

Something tingled against her nose when she inhaled and she sneezed to dispel it. The sensation had her skin crawling with uneasiness and the thrumming voice murmuring in her ears made them twitch. She returned her attention to the corpse only to see that the man who had fondled her on their way to the shop was back to normal. Or well, as much normal as a dead person can get after being killed in the midst of shifting. Ari had to turn her eyes away as her stomach gave an uncomfortable gurgle at the horrible gash on his throat. Mr. Hauptman as well as the other two strange (and most likely mystical creatures) seemed completely unbothered by the scene. Mercy returned from the office with a camera bag and a piece of paper with an ink stamp pad in either hand. Ari blinked, a little shocked that the older woman actually had those here in a car garage of all places. The ink stamp pad she could sorta understand, but a camera?

Expertly, Mr. Hauptman took multiple pictures of the body like the crime investigative unit does on police shows and swung the camera strap over a shoulder so he could use both hands to dip the dead werewolf's fingers in the ink pad. He'd obviously done this plenty of times before as he rolled the limp fingers on the paper carefully and efficiently.

After the crone's companion had safely wrapped up and deposited the corpse into a luxurious sedan, the woman washed the entire garage in some kind of spell and collected both Ari's raggedy clothes as well as Mac's. The gray wolf protested loudly to which Mr. Hauptman snapped, "I have clothes you can wear at my house and we'll pick up more tomorrow."

Ari stiffened at the hidden message within his tone. They were going to his house. As much as she appreciated his understanding and willingness to help them out, she didn't know how to feel about going to a complete stranger's home. But did she really have much of a choice? It's not like she could go home like this anyway, and how could she possibly explain that night without dragging her family into something dangerous? Or…tell her parents that Lily was gone?

She may trust him enough to keep her safe until this was over, but it was still a little scary how fast everything was moving. He said something more to Mac when it appeared that the boy didn't particularly like that idea, but really though, did he honestly expect the ruling Alpha of an entire city to let them run about? Besides, neither one of them could handle this situation by themselves without help and boy, did they need help.

It took a lot of grunts and frustrated huffing before she was finally able to climb to her feet again, but she managed after a small boost from Mac. She was as wobbly as a newborn foal as she followed Mr. Hauptman out the door and into the wintry, night air. She stopped just outside the door, the dry desert smelling so good and the nearly full moon feeling absolutely wonderful on her face that she figured this is what freedom looked like. Freedom and relief. Whatever happened after tonight, she was going to make sure that no one ever took it away again.