Chapter 20
Freya's POV
I felt a surge of concern for her, my new friend—perhaps my only friend in this city. She'd been nothing but kind to me, and now her association with me might put her at risk. I swallowed hard, guilt joining the cocktail of emotions swirling inside me.
"This is all Thorne Grey's fault," I muttered through gritted teeth, anger momentarily overwhelming my pain. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "He gives me a week to find work, then makes sure I can't. What kind of justice is that?"
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the district, I realized I needed to find somewhere to spend the night. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since morning.
I spotted a small motel a few blocks ahead, its neon "VACANCY" sign flickering in the growing darkness. As I approached, I noticed a paper sign taped to the door: [Night Desk Clerk Wanted.]
My heart skipped a beat. Perhaps this was the opportunity I needed—a job and a place to stay in one. I quickened my pace, ignoring the protest from my injured body, a spark of hope igniting within me.
The lobby was small and dimly lit, with worn furniture and the lingering scent of cigarettes and cheap cleaning products. An older male wolf sat behind the desk, reading a newspaper. He looked up as I entered, his nostrils flaring slightly as he caught my scent. I saw the moment of recognition in his eyes—the slight narrowing, the subtle shift backward.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his tone neutral but his body language anything but.
I straightened my posture, trying to appear more confident than I felt, ignoring the pain that radiated through my torso. "I saw your sign about the night desk clerk position. I'm interested in applying."
The motel owner looked me over, his expression changing as he detected the subtle markers of my exile status—the faint moon-silver residue that clung to exiles long after the collar was removed, the distinctive way we carried ourselves after years in the Wilds.
"We just filled that position," he said, his voice cooling. "Haven't had a chance to take the sign down yet."
My hope deflated, leaving emptiness in its wake. I pressed my lips together, fighting to keep my expression neutral. "Are you sure? I have experience with—"
"The position's filled," he interrupted, more firmly this time. His eyes dropped back to his newspaper, dismissing me.
I turned to leave, shoulders slumping with disappointment, the brief spark of hope extinguished. As I reached the door, I heard him mutter under his breath, "Exiles won't find legitimate work in this district. Not worth the trouble they bring."
The words stung, lodging in my chest like tiny shards of moon-silver. I pushed through the door, blinking rapidly to clear my vision.
---
As I stepped outside, a large figure separated from the shadows near the motel bar. A male wolf, broad-shouldered and swaying slightly, moved into my path. The scent of whiskey and wolf musk hit my nostrils, making me wrinkle my nose in distaste.
"Couldn't help overhearing," he said, his words slightly slurred. "You're looking for work?"
I tensed immediately, my wolf on alert. Every muscle in my body tightened, ready for flight despite my injuries. Drunk wolves were unpredictable, and I was in no condition to defend myself if things went south.
"Maybe," I replied cautiously, keeping my distance, my eyes fixed on his hands, watching for sudden movements.
He leaned closer, inhaling deeply, his eyes half-closed as he processed my scent. "You're an exile." It wasn't a question. "Recently returned, by the smell of it."
I didn't confirm or deny, simply waiting for him to make his point, my face carefully blank despite the discomfort his scrutiny caused.
"I might be able to help you find something... better than this place." He gestured dismissively at the motel, his movement exaggerated and unsteady. "Some folks over in Silver Stone territory are recruiting wolves with... special backgrounds."
My interest was piqued despite my wariness. I tilted my head slightly, my eyes narrowing. "What kind of work?"
The drunk wolf's smile widened, revealing teeth that were slightly too sharp. "Pays well. Much better than these shabby motels." He leaned in again, his whiskey breath washing over me. "I can introduce you to the right people."
I took a step back, my internal injuries protesting the sudden movement with a sharp stab of pain that I couldn't quite hide from my expression. "Who exactly are these people?"
"Let's just say Jasper Stone has an interest in wolves like you." His eyes gleamed in the dim light, predatory and calculating despite his intoxication. "Exiles with specific skills and... nothing to lose."
The mention of Jasper Stone made my wolf perk up. The Alpha of Silver Stone Pack had shown interest in me at the Moon Howl. Perhaps this wasn't completely random. I shifted my weight, considering my options, my heart rate increasing.
"You work for Jasper?" I asked, still maintaining my distance, though desperation was beginning to outweigh caution.
The wolf's expression turned smug, his chest puffing out slightly. "I can get you a meeting. He's particularly interested in... special cases like yours." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He'll provide protection. The terms are simple."
My mind raced with possibilities. Leaving Moon Bay would mean abandoning my search for my family, but staying seemed increasingly dangerous. Wolf King's men were looking for me, I had no job, and Thorne seemed determined to make my life impossible. I bit my lower lip, indecision written across my face.
"What would I have to do?" I asked, hating the desperate edge in my voice, the way it betrayed my vulnerability.
The drunk wolf stepped closer, his hand reaching to touch my arm. "Start by spending the night with me. Tomorrow, I'll take you to meet Jasper."
My stomach twisted with revulsion, bile rising in my throat. I swallowed it down, forcing myself to consider my options. They were painfully limited. I looked at the motel owner through the window, saw his contemptuous glance in my direction. My shoulders hunched slightly, the weight of my circumstances crushing down on me.
Is this what I've been reduced to? My wolf howled in distress within me, the sound echoing in my mind.
"One night," the drunk wolf pressed, "and tomorrow you could have a new life, away from Grey Moon territory." His fingers brushed my arm, making my skin crawl.
I closed my eyes briefly, my eyelids heavy with exhaustion and defeat. "One night... and you'll take me to Jasper tomorrow?" I asked, my voice hollow, devoid of emotion.
"Promise," he slurred, his hand moving to my waist, fingers digging in possessively.
Just as I was about to respond, a powerful wave of Alpha pheromones flooded the area. The drunk wolf froze, his body instinctively lowering in submission, eyes widening with fear. I felt it too—that unmistakable pressure in the air, the primal urge to submit that only an Alpha could command.
From the shadows emerged a tall figure, moving with predatory grace. The streetlight caught his features—the sharp jawline, the cold eyes with flecks of gold now glowing with anger, the immaculate suit that couldn't quite hide the wolf beneath.
Thorne Grey.
"I believe Moon Crescent Court's injunctions aren't clear enough for some wolves," he said, his voice deceptively soft yet carrying an unmistakable threat that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
The drunk wolf stumbled backward, nearly falling in his haste to create distance between himself and the Alpha. His face had drained of color, his earlier confidence evaporated completely.
"Tell Jasper that Grey Moon wolves are not his to poach," Thorne continued, casually kicking the drunk wolf aside as if he were nothing more than trash on the sidewalk. "Especially not through such... distasteful methods."
Then his cold gaze turned to me, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. My wolf, who had been so agitated moments before, went utterly still, caught between fear and an unwelcome sense of recognition.
"And you," he said, his voice hardening further, each word precise and cutting. "I believe my instructions were clear. One week to find legitimate employment. Not to sell yourself to the first drunk claiming Silver Stone connections."