Tangled

59 Ava: Homecoming (I)

When I walk downstairs, Phoenix is hanging up the phone. It strikes me how much I’ve changed when I realize I have no curiosity, no spark to ask who he was talking to.

I don’t care.

It’s either related to me in a way that isn’t going to be pleasant, or it will have nothing to do with me. That’s it. Those are the two options.

I have no urge to grow closer to the asshole who shares my genetics, so I don’t ask.

Instead, I plan.

I won’t be able to escape right away. I’m not even sure how I can escape. I have no money, no phone, no

contact with the outside world. But now that I’ve been

out there? Now that I’ve been on my own?

It doesn’t seem as impossible as it did when I lived

here.

If I just have a chance, I’ll take it.

“Some of the guys will be coming by to watch over

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59 Ava: Homecoming (1)

you,” Phoenix announces, coming by to sniff at me. “Don’t start anything. There’s plenty in the fridge, so just make something for dinner. Don’t forget that Alpha Renard is coming.”

have I been dragged home, now I have to

No, thank you.

reaching for the remote. The soft fabric smells like the artificial scent of clean linen. A scent I’ve grown to despise over the

disapproval radiating off him in waves. He’s struggling, I can tell. Part of him wants to chew me out like the disappointment I am. The other part is trying to play nice, to lull me into a false sense of security for whatever twisted game he’s playing.

give him the satisfaction of acknowledging either side. My eyes remain glued to the TV as I

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Ava: Homecoming (1)

with tousled hair and a roguish grin. The over–the–top soundtrack swelling with orchestral passion as

the same cheesy shifter romance Selene had been obsessed with at the

my head to try to stop the feelings from overwhelming my heart. Terrible acting. Melodramatic plot. Cringeworthy dialogue. A lump forms in my

1. me.

will never choose

you go.

only my life was as simple as worrying that my mate would

woman.

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Ava: Homecoming (1)

sounds on the door. I try not to tense as Phoenix opens the door, but my body betrays me. The scent of a familiar, nausea–inducing wolf washes over me, thick and musky with undertones of sweat and

me. I fight back a shudder, memories of his cruel hands on my body making my skin crawl. I can smell the tuna on This breath from here, courtesy

my least favorite smells now. I can’t even think about

he rumbles, never taking his eyes off me. “If it isn’t little Ava

shifters flank him, their leering stares just as unsettling. I

necessary,” he warns, his

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Homecoming

dinner. I don’t need

then.”

a lazy shrug. “Whatever you say, Phoenix. We’ll be perfect little angels.”

me, and I force myself to meet it head–on, refusing to show fear. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and

sure you don’t try to run off again. Can’t have our

can we?”