Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 73 Ava: Final Countdown

There's nothing to pack. The few clothes I have are courtesy of Mom shopping for me, and I have no interest in keeping them when I leave.

I'll go with a ripped pair of jeans and a shirt that I took scissors to, cutting off its holey hem until it looks tattered on purpose instead of because it's been washed too many times.

The only shoes I have are the heels I wore when they brought me home. Those, I put in a backpack Phoenix gave me from his old school days. Despite a decade of sitting in our attic, it smells like marijuana mixed with the cedar our home is built with.

Big brother was a bit of a rebel, I guess.

I have a pair of sneakers that are a half-size too small. I'll have some blisters, but I can buy a new pair somewhere. It'll be easier to run in them than heels.

The burner phone stares at me from its position on my desk. I know without a doubt that it has a tracer on it. I still have no idea if the phone Clayton gave me was tampered with; I know I had a level of paranoia that bordered on ridiculous during my stay with the Aspen wolves. But this phone?

I'm not paranoid.

Phoenix has decided that it's better to wipe my existence from memory than keep me as a hesitant ally.

So stupid, to ever think our interests could align.

I consider reaching out to Lisa, but I don't want Phoenix or his goons to get to her.

What if my desperate attempt to seek solace from Lisa only leads them straight to her doorstep, putting her in harm's way?

No way.

She's too precious. I won't be the one to drag her into the darkness

I have to

a good chance that he wants

case I escape whatever ambush he has

Paranoia has me in a chokehold I can't escape, no matter how much I

but from who? Mom and Dad are out. Jessa's out. Phoenix isn't here yet. Only the guards outside are

I could

escape this trap that I'm set to walk into. Lisa's the only way out I can think of, but there

But there's nothing.

of my family returning home, one by one. Dad's heavy, thudding footsteps. Mom's stilettos clicking against the floor. The way Jessa's truck roars into our driveway, like

None of them give a shit if I eat. The only reason I even cook is because if I don't, there won't be any meal

the kitchen. Laughter and conversation flows upstairs, the sounds of a happy family. Dad's rumbling voice

to the four of them,

who's

of my room, listening in to a family who doesn't want me, only missing the person

absence hurts

crystal around my neck reminds me of her, and I've developed a habit of fiddling with it. Every time I

the force of the motion. Despite the early evening hour of

ache settles

If I die—

of leaving without saying goodbye tears at