Chapter 18 Lucky me
Eva
He spent the day ignoring me. And it was driving me insane.
After breakfast, he disappeared into the tunnels, leaving me to my own devices in the sprawling, silent caverns of The Hollow. The pack was gone, off to their day jobs as construction workers, bartenders, and small-town mechanics. It was just me, a mountain of emptiness, and the ghost of his scent in the air.
I explored. I walked through the empty dormitories, the rows of neatly made bunks a testament to a discipline I didn't expect. I wandered through the armory, a room that smelled of gun oil and old steel, the walls lined with an alarming collection of weapons. My Glock was there, stripped and cleaned, sitting on a workbench like a forgotten toy.
I kept walking, my footsteps echoing in the cavernous silence. I found the library, a vast room carved into the rock, shelves packed with books, some old enough to make a museum curator weep. I pulled out a heavy, leather-bound tome, the title stamped in faded gold leaf: A Compendium of Lunar Deities.
I spent hours there, lost in a world of myths and legends.
"You're new," a woman's voice said, pulling me from my reading.
I looked up to see a woman my age standing in the doorway, with long dyed blonde hair, a nose ring, and tattoos covering both arms. She looked at me as if I had two heads. She held a laundry basket, and she leaned against the doorframe. "A new wolf?" she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
"No," I said, closing the book. "Just... visiting."
The woman snorted. "Mal doesn't have visitors. Not here." Her gaze dropped to my bandaged wrist, then back to my face. "You're the thief."
The word hung in the air between us. I wasn't sure if it was an accusation or a title.
"I am," I said, meeting her stare. "Eva."
"Chloe," she said, a slow smile spreading across her face. "So you're the one. The one he's been waiting for." She took a step into the room. "You don't look like much."
One more word, and I will swing that book at her.
"And you're the one who does his laundry," I shot back, my voice dripping with the casual disdain I'd perfected over years of deflecting bullshit.
Chloe's smile vanished, replaced by a flash of anger. "I do a lot more than that," she said, her posture stiffening. "I run the infirmary. I've patched up his wounds. I've been with this pack for ten years."
"Good for you," I said, my tone flat. "Do you get a Christmas bonus?"
"Why are you here, Eva?" she asked, ignoring my sarcasm. "Why are you still here? The door's wide open."
A good question. One I didn't have a good answer to.
"I like the decor," I said, gesturing around the library. "Very... dungeon chic."
Chloe narrowed her eyes, but now there was also something else: perhaps curiosity, or maybe pity. Was it jealousy? I couldn't decide which one I hated more.
“You think this is funny,” she said, tilting her head, “but you have no idea where you’re standing.”
“I’m standing in a cave full of wolves, cult-loyalty, and questionable interior design,” I said. “Trust me, I’ve noticed.”
Chloe let out a humorless laugh. “Malach doesn’t bring humans down here. Ever.”
“Lucky me.”
“It’s not luck,” she said sharply. “You’re not just some girl he dragged off the street; you seem important.”
Oh, great. Another person who thinks I’m the Moon’s Gifted Chosen Chosen Girl of the Chosen Chosen.
I crossed my arms. Her gaze flickered to the torc lying beside me on the table. I had brought it with me out of paranoia. Or masochism. Hard to tell.
“He gave you that?” she asked, voice going tight.
“He didn’t give me anything,” I said. “I stole it.”
A long, tense silence.
Chloe set the laundry basket on the nearest table and stepped closer. When she spoke again, her voice was low.
“Women die for that torc.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Dozens,” she said. “Over the centuries. Some want to wear it. Some want to destroy it. Some just want his love. But they all want it.” Her eyes locked onto mine, unblinking. “And you’re the only one he’s ever let hold it without tearing her throat out.”
My stomach sank, and my mouth dried up. I forced a scoff. “Maybe he’s getting soft.”
She didn’t laugh. “Or maybe you’re different.”
Chloe stepped back, her eyes lingering on me for another long moment before she picked up her basket. She paused at the doorway. I had the feeling she wanted to drop some cryptic ass threat to get me to leave, but didn't want to push too far. Instead, she left, her footsteps receding down the tunnel.
I sat alone in the library, the smell of old paper and Chloe’s laundry detergent filling the silence. I stared at the torc, shining under the faint light. I looked at the book in my hand.
My life had been a series of locks and traps; I was good at getting in, but for the first time, I wasn't sure how to get out. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to.