Chapter 3 ~ 3

Chapter 3

~ Drake ~

She pushed me away like I'd burned her.

I watched Hay stumble toward the restroom, her too-long dress swishing around her ankles, her shoulders tight with humiliation. Pathetic. That's what she was — pathetic and blind and so goddamn naive it almost hurt to watch.

I had been listening to everything that has been happening with her on the outside since I figured she would be my step sister soon. Thanks to my hearing gifts, I could hear every detail from miles away.

Part of me felt sorry for her, the way Chris had paraded Felicia around like a trophy while his actual girlfriend stood there in that frumpy dress, trying to convince herself everything was fine. 

The way she'd apologized to him earlier for not trusting him when Felicia was half-naked in his room.

But another part of me was just irritated.

She was Chris's weak spot. And she didn't even know it.

I turned away from the restroom, shoving my hands in my pockets. 

The prom was already boring me. These humans and their little rituals, their petty drama. They had no idea what real pack politics looked like. No idea that a few of the people in this room weren't even human.

My phone buzzed. Dad.

Remember your promise. No trouble.

I grimaced and pocketed the phone without responding.

No trouble. Right. As if moving to Hermes City — Geom territory — and enrolling me in their high school wasn't asking for trouble. As if expecting me to keep my head down while Chris Walker and his pack made my life miserable was reasonable.

My father, Jonathan Fletcher, Alpha of the Keback Pack, had his reasons. Business expansion. New opportunities. A "fresh start" after Mom died.

Two years. It had been two years since the cancer took her, and he was already remarrying. To a human, no less.

Catherine was nice enough, I guess. Sweet. Gentle. Nothing like Mom, who'd been fierce and strong and everything an Alpha's mate should be. But Dad loved her, and I couldn't argue with that, even if it felt like a betrayal.

What I could argue with was the fact that Catherine came with baggage.

Specifically, Hay.

My soon-to-be stepsister. Chris Walker's loyal little girlfriend.

Chris fucking Walker. Future Alpha of the Geom Pack. The guy who'd made it his personal mission to remind me every single day that Olympic High was his territory. That Hermes City belonged to Geom, and Keback had no business being here.

Never mind that the city was full of humans who had no idea werewolves even existed. Never mind that claiming a human city was archaic bullshit that most packs had moved past decades ago.

No, Chris had to be traditional about it. Had to make sure I knew my place.

And my father had made me promise not to retaliate.

"We're guests here," he'd said. "The Keback Pack is new to this city. We can't afford to start a war over high school politics."

High school politics. Like it was that simple.

But I'd promised. I'd kept my head down, played hockey, kept to myself. Let Chris have his little victory.

For now.

Gothenburg University was going to be different. Dad's influence didn't reach that far, and the territorial lines were blurred enough that I could finally do what I'd been planning for months.

I was going to destroy Chris Walker.

And apparently, I was going to have a front-row seat to his relationship drama while doing it, since Dad had decided Hay and I would be attending Gothenburg together. One big happy family.

It sucked. It really, really sucked.

But maybe… it didn't have to be completely terrible.

I glanced back toward the restroom, an idea forming.

Hay was Chris's weak spot.

And I was very good at exploiting weaknesses.

…

"Congratulations!"

The word echoed through the venue as guests clapped and cheered. Dad and Catherine stood at the altar — well, the makeshift altar in the Fletchers' backyard — beaming at each other like teenagers.

I forced a smile and clapped along with everyone else.

Four days. They'd planned this wedding in four days, and somehow it looked like something out of a magazine. White flowers everywhere, string lights woven through the trees, a ridiculous three-tier cake.

Catherine looked happy. Dad looked happy.

I looked like I wanted to be anywhere else.

"Drake, sweetheart!"

Catherine appeared at my elbow, glowing in her white dress. "Thank you for being here. I know this is all happening so fast…"

"It's fine," I said, because what else was I supposed to say? Actually, I think you're trying to replace my dead mother and I kind of hate you for it?

She squeezed my arm, her smile warm and genuine. "I'm so glad Hay will have you at university. It'll be nice for her to have family nearby."

Family. Right.

"Yeah," I said. "Nice."

She drifted away to greet more guests, and I scanned the crowd for Hay.

Found her standing near the gift table, looking like she'd just been told someone died.

"What?" I heard her voice spike even from across the yard. "Two weeks?"

Ah. The honeymoon conversation.

My enhanced hearing — a gift from the Moon Goddess that let me hear better than any other werewolf I'd ever met — picked up Catherine's soothing response.

"I know it's sudden, honey, but Jonathan has business obligations right after, and we really want this time together…"

"Two weeks? You're leaving me alone with him for two weeks?"

I smirked. Nice to know the feeling was mutual.

Two weeks. Just the two of us rattling around that massive house with only the staff for company. 

This was going to be interesting.

…

The car ride to the airport was silent.

Hay sat as far from me as possible in the backseat, pressed against the window like she was trying to melt through the glass. Her scent filled the car. She smelled of vanilla and it made my wolf stir restlessly.

I ignored it.

Dad and Catherine chatted in the front seat, holding hands over the center console like newlyweds. Which, they were.

When we pulled up to the departures terminal, Catherine turned around to look at Hay.

"Be good, okay? And please try to get along with Drake. He's your brother now."

Stepbrother. And not even that, really. Just two people stuck living together.

Hay mumbled something that might have been agreement.

Dad clapped me on the shoulder. "Take care of things while we're gone. And take care of your sister."

"She's not…" I caught myself. "Yeah. Sure."

They climbed out, grabbed their luggage, and disappeared into the airport.

And then it was just us.

I slid into the driver's seat. Hay moved to the passenger side without a word, still pressed as close to the door as physically possible.

The silence was deafening.

I tried to make it sound less weird.

"Hungry?"

"No. Thanks."

Okay then.

I waited a few minutes, navigating out of the airport traffic, before trying again.

"What are you studying at Gothenburg?"

She didn't even look at me. Just stared out the window like the passing cars were the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen.

Fine. Let her sulk.

I let the silence continue the rest of the way home.

When I pulled into the driveway, she was out of the car before I'd even put it in park. The door slammed behind her, and she practically sprinted toward the house.

I was about to follow when I noticed something on the passenger seat.

Her phone.

I picked it up, the screen lighting up with her lock screen. A photo of her and Chris, arms around each other, both grinning at the camera.

Young love. How sweet.

Except…

I looked closer.

Chris was wearing a bracelet. Silver, with some kind of pendant. I'd seen that bracelet before.

On Felicia's wrist. At the prom.

I laughed. Couldn't help it.

So Chris was fucking Felicia. Of course he was. And Hay — sweet, naive, loyal Hay — had no idea.

Or maybe she did and was just that good at lying to herself.

Either way, it was pathetic.

And useful.

An idea crystallized in my mind.

What if my revenge on Chris didn't have to be about hockey or pack politics?

What if it was about taking the one thing he actually seemed to have claimed?

Not to hurt her. Not really. But to have her. To take Chris's loyal little girlfriend and make her mine.

Nothing would destroy him more completely than having his claimed human as mine. 

I tossed the phone back on the seat and leaned back, closing my eyes.

I focused, tuning out the hum of the engine. I reached out with my enhanced hearing, searching for one specific sound.

There.

Hay's heartbeat. Fast and erratic, three walls away. She was pacing.

And then, faint but clear, her voice:

"I hate him. I hate this house. I hate Drake Fletcher."

A smirk spread across my face.

"Keep hating me, stepsister," I whispered to the empty car. "It's much more fun than being ignored."

This was going to be easier than I thought.