Feather

4 - The Wolf and The Girl

Walking up to Max's house felt like walking into a Wolf's Den. Every step was heavy with memories I'd rather forget, yet something—maybe a need for closure or some twisted sense of obligation—kept me moving forward. I should have turned back, but I didn't.

When Max called my name, a sense of fear cut through my body. "Isla?" he said, and I forced myself to look at him. His dark brown eyes locked onto mine with a predatory intensity. There was nothing warm in his gaze anymore—only hunger.

"I didn't know the party was here until the last minute. I'm sorry if I'm—"

"It's okay," he interrupted, stepping closer, his voice low and unsettlingly calm. "I'm really glad you came tonight. You owe me a dance, though."

The way he said it made my skin crawl. There was nothing innocent about his request. It was a demand.

Luke, sensing the tension, grabbed my hand, pulling me away. His laughter was a brief reprieve from the suffocating pressure Max's presence brought. But even as we moved through the crowd, the music pounding beneath our feet, I could feel Max's eyes on me, like a wolf stalking its prey.

We made our way to the kitchen, where I pulled out a bottle of bourbon I'd smuggled in my bag, taking a swig to steady my nerves. Luke leaned over and whispered, "You sure you're okay?"

Before I could answer, a familiar voice shouted my name. "Isla, my girl! I missed you so much!"

Julia's arms were suddenly around me, and I couldn't help but smile despite the tension steaming inside me. Julia, with her wide brown eyes, porcelain dark skin, and radiant energy, had a way of making everything seem okay, even when it wasn't.

"I missed you too, babe," I said, hugging her back tightly. For a moment, I felt a little lighter, like maybe this night wouldn't be so bad after all.

But then Luke's phone buzzed, and he quickly checked the message, a smirk spreading across his face. "Isla, I found Santos," he said, winking. "I'm going to go MIA for a bit, but call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just make sure you don't leave without me."

"Promise," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd.

Julia turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Looks like we're on our own now. Let's dance!"

Julia went to the DJ, asking for one of our all-time favorites, "Dirty" by Grandson. Once it came out, we screamed and lifted our hands, moving our bodies together to the beat.

We laughed and twirled to the music, but an unpleasant feeling of being watched began to crawl up my neck. I downed another shot of bourbon, trying to chase it away. But no amount of alcohol could drown out the anxiety building in my chest.

"Isla, are you okay, hun?" Julia asked, concerned. "You don't look good, babe"

"I'm ok; I just need to cool off for a second. I will be right back." Excusing myself, I headed to the bathroom and needed a moment to breathe. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would calm the rising panic. But it didn't help. The memories of Max, the way he used to control me, manipulate me, tear me down, all came flooding back.

The bathroom door swung open, and I barely registered it until I felt a hand on my arm. A drunken guy grabbed me, his grip too tight. "Hey, aren't you Max's ex?" he slurred, his breath hot and disgusting against my skin.

"Let go," I snapped, trying to pull away, but my voice trembled. "Why do you care?"

"Are you the girl with the cuts on her ribs? Can I see?" Another guy joined in, his voice filled with sick curiosity.