Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 80

I stiffen, my heart pounding in my ears. “Why were you going through my stuff?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm, but there’s a sharp edge to my words.

“I didn’t. Soren gave it to me this morning,” he replies flatly, his eyes returning to the road. “He thought it best we handle this sooner rather than later and said if it helps me learn to trust you, it won’t hurt, so we’ll do that first thing; it won’t take long.”

Maribel claps her hands together, oblivious to the tension. “Oh, that’s wonderful! See progress between you two! It’s high time we rid you of that rogue status, dear. It’ll be hard enough for people to accept you’re a werewolf, let alone a rogue. Honestly, I am surprised Soren didn’t register you as his pack the moment you both got engaged.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. Her words are meant to comfort me, but they only serve to remind me of how precarious my position here truly is.

The drive to the council feels like walking to the gallows in some medieval movie. When we finally arrive, the building looms large and imposing, its gray stones cold and unwelcoming. We walk through the tall double doors, and I’m hit by the sterile smell of antiseptic and old papers. Damian leads the way to a small office, where a clerk waits with a stack of forms.

“Fill these out, please,” the clerk instructs, handing me a pen as if she was expecting us, which no doubt Damian called

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Chapter 80

linger on me for a moment too long, curiosity and suspicion mingling in his gaze. I take the forms

beside me; her presence is a comforting warmth as she helps explain some of the more confusing legal jargon. Damian leans against the

with my sister’s birth certificate. “It will take about a month to process these,” she says, her tone neutral. “You’ll be notified by

waiting, of hoping that nothing would go

we reach the parking lot, though, I

of the car. I climb out

husband and your future one

ahead, shutting the place down to the public. We have the place to ourselves!”

shopper, making me wonder

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flavors; a part of me can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness. This is everything I imagined doing with my own mother, and though Maribel’s enthusiasm is infectious, it underscores what I’m missing

She has a way of making everything seem special, and her laughter