Chapter 8
Chapter 8 The Woman
Jane
“She was so perfect.” | moan, taking a sip of wine while Linda listens sympathetically. “I wanted to run
away with her then and there.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t.” My friend advises. We’re out on her front porch, enjoying ate afternoon
cocktail and discussing the shocking events of the day. “It was risky enough just spending time with her.
If you took her, Ethan would hunt you to the ends of the earth.”
“I’m going to have to figure out a way to take her eventually. She belongs with me, with her siblings.” |
insist, feeling positively overwhelmed after everything that’s happened over thest few days.
“We’ll figure it out.” Linda assures me. “For now we should just be thankful he didn’t figure out you’re
alive.”
“What if he did?” I ask anxiously.
“Honey, you have to trust the death certificate the coroner forged for us was enough.” Linda reminds me,
“We covered our bases. You’re safe.”
“There’s no such thing as safe when ites to alphas.” || remind her. “That kind of power … it knows
no limits. Besides, it’s not only that, it’s Paisley… she knew what I look like, she told me I look like her
Mommy.” As much as hearing the precious creature say those words tugged at my heartstrings,
I’m terrified of her repeating the sentiment to her father. “How do we know she didn’t tell Ethan what she
suspected?”
As the mother of three young pups, I know better than anyone how children tend to parrot everything
they hear. Thest thing one should ever do is assume kids aren’t listening or capable of understanding
conversations – especially my children, who are much too smart for their own goods.
“If she told him about you, he would already be banging on our door.” Linda replies, trying tofort me.
“I’m sure he doesn’t know.”
Instead of soothing me, her words evoke a thousand terrible possibilities. The image of Ethan crashing
into Linda’s home in a fit of rage melds with my nightmarish memories, resurrecting ghosts of the life I left
behind. That same fate would await me if Ethan ever found out l’m alive. I can’t go back to being a ve,
a tool for some power-hungry alpha to use and abuse like I mean nothing at all.
Tears well in my eyes, “He can’t find out, Linda. He’ll take my babies, he’ll make me his property again.”
“Jane, listen to me.” My friend insists. “You aren’t the same woman you were back then. You are so much
more than you ever were or wanted to be. Ethan only has power over you if you give it to him.”
Swiping tears from my cheeks, I nod in agreement. It’s just in time. At that moment my driver pulls up,
delivering my pups from the daycare center I booked for our time in the city. The back door of the sleek
SUV opens, and one by one my pups are released from their car seats, running towards me with open
arms.
“Hello my babies!” I cry, hugging Ryder, Parker and Riley as close as possible and showering them with
kisses. “Oh, I missed you so much! How was your day?”
As predicted, my young pups pick up on my distress immediately, each child trying their best to soothe
my overwrought nerves. Parker climbs into myp and begins singing a silly song he made up with his
teacher today, spouting lyrics about a “frog on a log in a bog, who went for a jog but got lost in the smog
and then met a hog – who waspletely agog.”Content (C) N?v/elDra/ma.Org.
Meanwhile Riley spins around on the porch, performing effortless pirouettes and leaps to her brother’s
tune, “Mommy look at me!” Clearly her ballet sses are paying off, though | imagine her dance
instructor wouldn’t approve of the ribbets and oinks she’s incorporating into the otherwise graceful
routine.
My other son, Ryder, is busy conducting them both, standing in the middle of the porch steps and waving
his hands like aposer. Every now and then he calls out an instruction to his siblings, encouraging
them to give their best performance.
If they were anyone else’s children I would assume they nned this, but my pups are so precocious I
have no doubt they’re improvising. Before long Linda and I have copsed in a puddle ofughter, the
pups climbing on top of us in a giggling dog pile. I squeeze them tightly, silently thanking the Goddess for
bringing them into my life.
In these moments I can almost forget my young family is iplete. Ryder, Parker and Riley give me
more joy than ! ever dreamed was possible. They’re the greatest gift I’ve ever received and if it weren’t
for Paisley’s absence, I’d have
everything my heart desired. Of course today was a stark reminder that one piece of my heart is still
missing, and I’m more determined than ever to get it back.
——–
Ethan
The ss cases lining the bakery window overflow with delectable pastries, each one making my mouth
water. A cursive gold “D” has been painted onto the triangles of chocte sticking out of every dessert,
the trademark flourish of Cafe Dulce.
Jane and I used toe here every weekend, ordering strong coffees and incredible sweets. I stille
whenever I can, but I never bring anyone with me – not even Paisley. In my mind this is Jane’s special
ce, and I can’t bear the idea of bringing anyone else here. It’s almost as if I think making new
memories here might erase those of her, as silly as that is.
As I look past the disy case to the inside counter, I’m certain I see my beautiful mate. She’s tiny and
slender, with long blonde hair cascading down her back. Surging toward the ss doors, I charge inside
just as she slips out the back, evading me so perfectly I’m almost impressed. Almost, because I’d much
rather have her in my arms than chase her to the ends of the earth.
I can’t deny how strongly the she-wolf resembled Jane, and there – it’s the same scent Paisley was
covered with when she came home yesterday. Maybe my daughter was right after all. Maybe her mother
has been out there all this time, staying
hidden from view but watching over us every step of the way.
The question remains as to why?
Why would she hide this way? Why would she fake her death? And most baffling of all, how could she
leave Paisley?
Running out the back door, I search the street for signs of the blonde woman, but she’s already gone. I
try to follow her scent, but it disappears at the end of the street. She must have gotten in a car. Turning
back to the cafe, I march up to the counter and demand to speak with the manager. A portly wolf appears
a momentter, “Alpha, what can I help you with today?
“I want to see your surveince footage from thest few days.” I demand, turning to the waitress who
served the mysterious blonde, “And I need you to tell me about the woman who was just in here.”