Pride Unleashed (a Wolf's Pride novel, book 2) (36 page)

B
efore I make any decisions
that will affect the rest of my life
, I have to stand by the only man who can best help me find my way
.

And I know the two boys
who
I care about
the
most
, two wolves who would fight to the death to save me,
might not like my choice
s
,
but I know them both well enough to know they’ll respect
them
.

After crossing the border with
the necessary
identification in hand, all thanks to Mario and his
illegal
connection
s
,
we make our way to Logan’s small
,
seclude
d
town in the Canadian mountains
—a place where we can only hope
th
at Malcolm and the others are
alive and safe
.

I can’t deny that I’m e
xcited to live a normal life
and
happiness swells inside me as I look at my new family: my father, Logan, Stone,
Gem
and
Sandy
,
as well as a few other
wolves
who’ve decided to come with us.

The rest
of the pack
stayed behind,
most
searching for their
long lost
families
while
the others
simply
want
ed
to start fresh.
 

Mario and the staff stayed behind
as well
and it makes me happy to know they can
now live the lives they
’ve
always wanted
.
My father
, who is desperate to right his wrongs,
provided everyone with enough money to get them on their feet
.

I turn my focus to the future ahead of me, but a
s we approach Logan’s community the scent of smoke hits me hard
.
I
turn to see a worried look in Logan’s eyes.
I slip my hand into his and he
looks at me, his blue eyes troubled.

“Maybe it’s nothing,” I say
as an uneasy feeling closes in on me
.

“Maybe,” he responds
as our feet slap the pavement
, but the closer we get, the stronger the scent
grows
.
Smoke begins to saturate the air and w
hen we finally crest the hill
overlooking his small town
, I suck in a huge breath and
a cry lodges in my throat.

“Logan,” I say
my stomach clenching
.

He throws his head back.
“No,” he
wails
and his l
oud
distress
howl cuts the quiet
of the night
.

Tears sting my eyes and
I wrap my arms around him
and hold him tight
as guilt eats at me.
This is my fault.
I never should have let his family fight my battle.

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

With our world collapsing,
I look at the charred houses and
the burned
community in chaos
.
Anger boils my blood and
I know in an instant our fight for freedom, our fight to prove
we’re
not the monsters is far from over.

###

43

Coming soon

After defeating her master and releasing the enslaved wolves, Pride, Logan, Stone and the rest of the pack return to the Canadian mountains only to discover a village in chaos.
Feeling responsible for the carnage
,
Pride is determined to show the
world
exactly who the monsters really are.

When her pack refuses to let her fight alone, Pride and her team set out to change
mankind
.
But when her leadership is tested and a traitor emerges, not only must Pride pick between the two
boys
who love her most, her choice could
either
help put an end to war on the wolves or it could endanger the very existence of her kind.
  

Cat Kalen is a multi published author in the romance genre under two pen names, Cat is a wife, mom, sister, daughter, and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie) pizza and watermelon. She has two teenagers who keep her busy with their never ending activities, and a husband who is convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. Cat can never find balance in her life, is always trying to find time to go to the gym, can never keep up with emails, Facebook or Twitter and tries to write page-turning books that her readers will love.

A maritime native and former financial officer, Cat has lived all over Canada but has finally settled down in her childhood hometown with her family.

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Renee Pace

Lindsay

“You coming over tonight, Rebecca?”

I make the question casual, like it’s no sweat off my back if my best friend can’t come over tonight. Inside my gut twists and rolls with the thought of being alone. She plays with her dyed blonde ponytail, pulling the strands tight to her head to fluff it up higher. She’s not paying attention to me. Rebecca’s one focus is Blair. Blair’s main focus is Rebecca. They make me sick.

“Can’t Linds. I’ve got plans.”

I hate that nickname and no matter how many times I ask her not to call me that she doesn’t listen. She dismisses me with a swish of her ponytail and walks over to plant one on Blair’s lips. I cringe with disgust. For the life of me I can’t understand what she sees in him, besides his muscular body. Muscle or not, he’s not something I’m into.

I re-read the text from my mother and resist the urge to type a pleading note back to her not to spend another night away. Mom’s been at a conference all weekend. I had Friday, Saturday and even Sunday night covered. It’s Monday. She was supposed to come home tonight. Now I’m left scrambling for an excuse to spend the night somewhere else or begging a friend to come to my house for a sleepover. Worse, I have to make my impromptu sleepover sound casual, like it’s an afterthought that me, the so-called perfect girl in this Prep school, wants a friend or better yet friends to spend Monday night at her house. No one has sleepovers on Monday. Even I know that. Thing is, I’m all into bucking the trend. Especially when a friend will keep me safe and they won’t even know it.

Taking the time to look at my reflection staring back at me thanks to my handy-dandy locker mirror I reapply my pink lipstick, add a bit more black eyeliner around my bottom lids and flick my long blonde hair off my shoulders. I look cool and sophisticated thanks to Mother’s recent shopping spree and my practiced ‘I’m fine’ look. I’m totally decked out in designer duds, from my shoes to my new hot purple matching bra and underwear, although no one’s going to see
that
. It’s the top of the line on this bod. But just once I wish I didn’t feel like trash.
They say clothes make the woman. My clothes, like the make-up I carefully apply, are my body armour. They protect me and conceal me. Even my scars—carefully hidden thanks to my long-sleeved sweater. They are my shame. My dirty little secret I can’t tell anyone.

Armed with my new Coach purse, another gift from Mother-dearest, I saunter to class. It would not be cool for me to be late so I never am. Appearances must be maintained and just like my good grades, which are totally expected, I play my part to a T.

The class is totally boring and I can’t absorb one freaking word the teacher is droning on about. Something to do with DNA, mitochondria and cellular fusion. I hate biology. You of course would never know that. My last test was a ninety-eight percent and I participate in class even though inside it kills me.

“Mr. Turner, I didn’t catch the last part of what you were saying, do you mind repeating it?” I make sure to bat my eyelashes at him and throw in a flirty smile. Sometimes using the way I look makes me sick. Not today.

“Sure Lindsay, as I was saying…”

This time I take notes. It helps me concentrate on his class, forcing my mind not to wander into that dark place. An itch starts on both of my wrists but I don’t scratch. Scratching would ruin the plastic surgeon’s work and piss my mother off to no end. My mother and I don’t talk about the “incident”. That’s her word, not mine. I have another word I like to use, but uttering that makes her angry. Trust me, that’s not pretty.

We went from Halifax, Nova Scotia to Mexico, just the two of us, but not once did we talk about anything important. The five and a half hour flight might have never happened. But it did. The “incident” happened and now…now, I am supposedly all better.
As if!
And like all mistakes, we wiped all memories of it clean from our lives. Well, that’s how Mother viewed it. Me, I’m not so sure.

Now we live in Toronto. To say I hate this place would be an understatement. Gone is my tree. The one tree that grew up with me. Mother planted it in our backyard, blubbering away about “us” making our own memories when my father walked out on us. She never once looked back at that relationship, except to look at me. I should have been the wise one. Make one stupid mistake Lindsay and violà, you’ll get taken away from all you know, including the stupid silly things that shouldn’t matter, but do. Like that tree, which had been on a piece of property in my mother’s family for close to two hundred years. She sold off the acreage to some developer, but not before we trekked an hour back into the bug-infested woods for that damn shrub. Cedar. That’s it. We didn’t think it would survive but that tree did. It grew and grew, so much so, that it became my own special tree. Now, that’s gone. After all the shit that’s happened in my life, I honestly can’t believe I miss that stupid tree.

My mother couldn’t live with the shame of my so-called accident. The reality is she couldn’t live with the gossip and still to this day, a full six months later, she is not interested in learning the truth. I tried to tell her it wasn’t an accident. That didn’t go so well.

“What did he say?”

Without turning my head I answer Megan. She’s sitting next to me, only because she got assigned that seat. Megan, with her mousy-brown hair, is about as boring as you can get. The cosmetic ladies would hav
e a field day with her face. I bet she doesn’t even own lip gloss. I look at her for a good twenty seconds.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

“You doing anything tonight?” I turn my head slightly, giving her a bit of my attention but not all of it. Inside my head I am still going through all my friends, trying to figure out who might say yes to coming to my house tonight. Most of my friends have cheerleading practice on Monday night. Since I couldn’t even try out for the team because of my “weak” wrists lie, I’m not on it. Neither is Megan.

She hasn’t answered me, so I’m forced to look at her. “Megan, you busy tonight?”

She gives me a puzzled expression. “No. Why?”

“Want to come over?”

“Over. Like, as in to your house to do homework or something?” I can’t help notice how her uni-brow furrows in frustration and she’s got a pack of whiteheads on her nose that could seriously use some medication. What she really needs is a good makeover. Oh. My. God. I am a genius.

I move my chair slightly closer to her. “Look, come to my house tonight and we’ll give each other makeovers.”

Her eyes widened and honestly the biggest smile on the planet lights up her face. I feel like a heel. What the hell am I thinking? Oh, I know; I’m not thinking. I’m desperate. I can’t believe Megan is my last hope.

“Sure. That would be great. I can come over for a bit.”

A bit. I need her to commit for the night. “I was thinking…you know, there’s nothing going on…why don’t you spend the night?” I gulp. It’s too late to swallow back the words but I know I have just committed social suicide. For a second I wonder which is worse—home alone or having Megan over.