One.
Two.
Three.
I counted my steps as I trudged towards them, muttering the numbers quietly to myself while aware of the attention I had grabbed from the party. Other than Elena, Hannah, and Amaya, two other girls I recognized as the Dark Wood Pack members were with the group, and three unfamiliar men who I surmised belonged to the Black Tide Pack—all ten pairs of eyes were now fixed on me.
I stood a few steps away from them and bowed to the group.
“Would you like us to serve your lunch now?” I asked, my eyes remaining on the ground.
“Yes, of course!” Elena’s impatient voice exploded. “Get on with it. We've been waiting for ages. What, did you all crawl here or something?”
I had expected her indignation, but somehow, in front of all of these people—Callan—I felt heat crawl up my neck.
“I apologize,” I said and rose, my eyes briefly meeting Callan’s before I retreated to the table where Eloise and Abigail must have figured out what had been said because they'd gone on to bring out the items that had been packed in the basket.
Eloise thrust the tray that held a pitcher filled with lemonade and another containing water with ten tumblers on it into my hands, and I made my way back to them, walking behind Abigail with a tray in her hand also. The smell of braised chicken wafted through the air, and I heard my stomach rumble slightly, but my uneasiness at everything diverted my attention from my hunger.
I placed my tray in the middle of the two opposite groups, and with shaky hands, I worked on pouring the lemonade from the pitcher into all the tumblers while Abigail dished out the chicken into a small bowl. They had all gone eerily silent as we worked on serving them, and it made my discomfort heighten. I could tell that something was coming.
“Sophia, is it?” I heard a familiar voice ask, and my head snapped up to its direction. Radley!
My eyes scanned him before I abruptly turned away, remembering my place. I spoke with my gaze on my task.
“Yes,”
I now had a face to the lying intruder with the heavy footsteps, the one who had called me names that would forever dwell in my memory.
His brown eyes held a cold, void expression; his nose flared; and his lips pulled to form a straight, thin line. The thinning, blonde hair on his head was held in an uncomfortable-looking ponytail that pulled at the edges of his hair, prompting the prominent display of the veins on the side of his forehead. I had no face in mind for what I’d imagined Radley would look like, but seeing him now, he did fit the sort of person I would have thought him to be.
I handed Alexander his drink first. His lips were curled into a smile that held humor that didn't reach his eyes as he collected it, his finger brushing against mine and sending a wave of revulsion through me. Next was Callan, and he simply gave me an appreciative nod before I stood up, prepared to leave.
“You won't be joining us then?” Radley asked, his voice stopping me. I didn't have to be told it wasn't an extension of courtesy, but his tone conveyed just as much. I could hear the hint of taunt in such a simple question, and it made my stomach sink further.
I turned to look at him even when my wolf was urging me to pretend I hadn't heard him and walk away.
“No, thank you,” I said instead in a polite tone.
“Come on,” Elena interrupted in a sickeningly sweet voice. “You don't have to always be so formal, Sophia. Sit with us.”
And the last phrase, even though said with a bedazzling smile, I knew was the farthest from a polite invite as any could be. It was an order, one that made me lose my appetite and heighten the dull ache at the back of my head.
Everything in me screamed at me to turn on my heels and take off, run without looking back, but instead, I did the opposite and settled down at the farther end with what I hoped was an indifferent expression on my face.
If they wanted me to sit with them for lunch, then so be it. I wasn't going to let my distress over this give them the cruel entertainment they sought to gain from it.
Elena plucked the drink from Amaya’s hand and handed it to me. “Here you go.”
“Hey, that's…”
But a sharp look from Elena caused the words to die on her lips, and she turned away to collect the bowl Abigail was handing to her. My eyes met Abigail’s, and I read the sympathy in them just as Odell’s voice resounded in my head, the one urging me to not bring attention to myself. He would be gravely disappointed, but in my defense, I had done as he’d said. I was just profoundly unfortunate.
“There aren't enough bowls here,” Abigail muttered, standing up. “I’ll go get more.”
“No,” I said hastily. “I'm fine, really.”
“Have this,” Callan said, speaking for the first time as he handed me the steaming bowl he had been served.
I was beginning to shake my head, but something in his eyes remained obstinate, compelling me to do as he'd said, so I swallowed and reached out to collect it, aware of the intensified, brazen way everyone else watched our small interaction.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, bowing my head at him while recalling him telling me I didn't have to do that.
“Oh, Abigail,” Elena said, reaching out for something in front of me. “Can I get the pitcher of…”
Perhaps I should have seen it coming or maybe I did but I didn’t expect she’d have actually gone ahead with it, but she did. Her hand slammed against the bowl of chicken Callan had just handed me, resulting in it toppling and its contents pouring over me. The still-hot liquid from the bowl coming in contact with my skin had me leaping up from my position. A scream tore out from my lungs and, sudden tears gathered in my eyes.
It burned; the pain that shot through me was excruciating. The liquid dripped down my legs, slithering and scorching my skin. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and for a split second, I was blinded by it.
“Oh no!” I could hear Elena’s screams, hers even louder than mine as she fussed over me, falling over herself with the rapid apologies she spewed.
Callan had shot up from his seat and was by my side instantly. His voice was soothing as his arms wrapped around my shoulders while he led me back to sit down.
“Hey, it's okay. It’s fine,” he said softly, settling me down before turning over the pitcher containing water over my thighs. It sent a cold, refreshing feeling through me, and I exhaled in slight relief, but the pain lingered. I could feel the tears that had run down my cheeks. Somehow, I had ended up letting them flow.
“Is it better now?” Callan asked, looking up at me with deeply worried eyes. I could only nod.
“I’m so sorry, Sophia. You have no idea.” Elena was still by my side frantically apologizing, and I would've believed she truly was sorry if I hadn't seen the small lift of the corner of her lips right before she had slammed the bowl from my hand. It was obvious Callan didn't believe her either.
“That’s enough, Elena!” he snapped, swerving to look at her.
She paled, recoiling from the anger in his demeanor and seeming genuinely shocked by it.
Callan turned to me. “Come on.” And he picked me up with one swift movement, settling me in his arms before walking away, headed towards where the horses had been tied.
It was only after Callan had placed me atop the horse that I realized Alexander hadn't even glanced my way all through the uproar. I had no idea why, but that unnerved me more than him fighting with Callan over me. I knew him, and he wasn't one to be calm through something like that, and when I turned to look at him, I caught him already watching Callan and me with something utterly sinister in his eyes.
A cold shiver ran down my spine.