Avenging Luna

Knowing he didn't want to spill the beans about which pack I was currently in, I decided to act like he wasn't even there. "Fine, I'll figure it out myself," I muttered, feeling a bit dramatic for added effect. I marched over to his closet, rifling through it as if I were hunting for treasure. I snatched up a shirt and a hoodie, not caring if he threw a fit. After all, he was the one who had undressed me, and his aim with my clothes seemed to be as erratic as his aim with darts—since they were nowhere in sight.

As I made my way to the bathroom, I could feel his eyes boring into my back like laser beams. I shot him a sidelong glance. "What?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Don't mind me, sweet," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "Gile and I are just admiring our mate from afar. But it would be a huge favor if you could ditch that fashion disaster you're wrapped in. It's giving us second-hand embarrassment." 

I gave him a look that said, "Seriously?" before I stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door with as much force as I could muster. The loud bang was followed by his hearty chuckle, which seemed to follow me even into the bathroom. I could almost hear him saying, "Maybe you'll find your sense of style in there too!"

Determined not to let him get on my nerves, I showered quickly and pulled on his shirt and hoodie. And boy, were they enormous! I had to fold the sleeves up about four times just to see my hands. I gathered my hair into a messy ponytail, then grabbed a black cap I found hanging on a hook. Putting it on hiding my face like I wanted it to and, voilà, my outfit was complete.

Satisfied with my impromptu ensemble, I emerged from the bathroom. "Whoa, sweet, you're really giving me a hard time here," Drake said, his eyes roaming over my outfit with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

I scrunched up my nose at the nickname he'd given me. "Sweet" was the last thing I was. The "sweet" version of me had been buried a long time ago—Alpha Vanvil made sure of that before I finished him off. That sweet version wouldn't have had the courage to do what I did. The sweet me was six feet under buried in the darkness fueled by vengeance. And I would love it to remain like that because sweetness and innocence was not something I needed right now.

The real problem was the shoes—his were so comically large that even trying to make them work was a joke. I tried searching around the room, under the bed on his shoes rack but nothing. "Where are my shoes?" I demanded, turning to Drake, who was now lounging on the bed with an odd smirk.

Drake's eyes twinkled with mischief. "You know, if you keep bending over like that, I'm not sure I'll be able to hold myself back. The hoodie might be long, but it's not long enough to cover everything when you bend."

I shot him a look that could have frozen lava. "Hey, buddy, my eyes are up here," I said, noting that his gaze had strayed to my legs, making me shiver with a mixture of irritation and unexpected delight. "Stupid mate bond," I muttered under my breath, assuming he heard me when he chuckled. The sound wasn't helping my already frazzled nerves. 

"You know," he said with a grin, "I could be your feet and carry you wherever you want to go."

I rolled my eyes at his suggestion. Well, if he wasn't going to help me find my shoes, I might as well show him I didn't mind going without them. It wasn't like I'd worn shoes much before. Back at the Blood Moon Pack, I'd been a slave, and the ragged clothes and shoes I had were just what I'd stolen from a girl there before I shifted and escaped.

I turned on my heel and headed for the door. "Hey, not so fast!" Drake called after me, his voice dripping with playful frustration. Looking down at his pants he said, "What am I going to do with this problem you've caused? I can't just follow you around like this."

I knew exactly what he was hinting at and shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't ask you to accompany me." Without waiting for his response, I dashed out of the room, my cheeks burning from his teasing and the way his brown eyes had been looking at me.

I needed to get out of this pack house—wherever it was—before this mate bond thing turned my plans into a total disaster. I hoped that nobody had seen Drake escorting me to his room, especially not the Alpha or Beta of this so-called pack.

Drake's room, apparently located in what was definitely a pack house, was on the third floor. The grand staircase seemed to stretch endlessly as I made my way down, each step taken with the utmost stealth to avoid making any noise. I hoped against hope that no one would be coming up or down the stairs. The last thing I needed was to bump into someone, especially in my current state—looking like a misplaced scarecrow with no shoes.

The cacophony of voices from the kitchen hit me like a wave as I approached the ground floor. It sounded like a small crowd was gathered there, which did nothing for my already heightened nerves. I took a deep breath and made a beeline for the door, trying to stay out of sight. My heart raced as I silently navigated through the hallways, each creak of the floorboards sending a jolt through me.

The thought of encountering anyone, especially in this disheveled state, was unbearable. I maneuvered around corners with exaggerated caution, my mind racing with scenarios of how I'd explain myself if caught. With every step, I hoped the door to the outside would appear sooner rather than later.

As I reached the entrance, the clamor from the kitchen grew louder, intensifying my anxiety. I glanced over my shoulder one last time, bracing myself for any potential interruptions. The door was almost within reach. Just a few more steps and I could escape this chaotic pack house and figure out my next move.

I couldn't believe my luck. Just as I was opening the door, relieved that I hadn't been spotted, I nearly walked straight into a girl about my age. She was impeccably dressed, her clothes clearly indicating she was one of those "girly girls" with a soprano voice that could probably shatter glass. And sure enough, she didn't disappoint.

"AAAH! Why are you wearing my man's clothes?" she shrieked, her voice piercing the air and drawing a crowd of onlookers like moths to a flame. Her scream cut through the hallway, and before I knew it, my stealthy escape plan had gone up in flames.

The girl continued to scream, her words tumbling out in a rapid-fire succession that I couldn't even begin to decipher. The gist of it became clear, though—Drake had a girlfriend, and this was her. And from the way she was carrying on, it seemed she wasn't thrilled about seeing me in her boyfriend's clothes.

I could feel my frustration boiling over. Not only was I stuck in a pack I didn't want to be in, but now I was being yelled at by a self-absorbed drama queen. My irritation flared up, and before I could think twice, I landed a punch squarely on her jaw. The impact was enough to knock her out cold, and she crumpled to the floor, giving me a brief moment of blessed silence.

The crowd of onlookers stared at me in stunned silence for a moment before some of them started giving me thumbs up, as if I'd done them a favor. Apparently, in this pack, knocking out one of their own earned you a round of applause. I was starting to suspect that Drake wasn't the only lunatic around here.

With the unexpected support of the crowd and a path cleared, I took my chance and bolted for the exit. My mind raced with the realization that I was dealing with a pack that seemed to reward chaos and disorder. Whatever pack this was, it was definitely not where I wanted to be.