After the war, London is in chaos.
Packs are battling it out for dominance in the streets, lycans are killing each other in illegal fight dens. The Royals are being murdered.
All Juliet wants to do is forget - forget Sebastien, forget the wa...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The smell of pizza lured me out of the bedroom half a day later.
I was starving; I hadn't eaten since before the fight den and judging by the way my stomach was growling when I peeled open my eyes, my organs were minutes from devouring each other. I padded stiffly into the living room, making a beeline for the stack of pizza boxes on the countertop.
"Before you bitch at me," I heard Theo say as I flipped open the first box, "I paid for it with my own money."
I ignored him, shoving the first slice into my mouth and ripping another out of the box before I turned to face him. He was fully dressed and sitting with his spine ramrod straight, a pizza box open on his lap like a makeshift plate, and a knife and fork in each hand. The television was on, as usual, and the volume was as low as it could possibly be without being mute.
"Thanks," I mumbled around a mouthful.
I grabbed one of the boxes and plopped down next to him on the sofa. It took me a few seconds to get comfortable — my ribs were still pretty sore — but I managed to arrange the threadbare cushions into a good position and then I settled down to eat.
Theo was cutting his own pizza into little squares and I watched in amusement as he slid each piece daintily into his mouth. When he caught me looking, he scowled. "What, does having proper table manners jeopardise my safety, too?"
I shoved another slice into my mouth. "No, but I'm having a hard time imagining you scoffing down a squirrel."
His face twisted in disgust. "Ew."
I shrugged. "When you're hungry, trust me, you'll take what you can get."
My amusement faded. There was a very real possibility that raw squirrel would be the only thing on the menu for both of us soon, and worrying about what to eat would be the least of our problems. I flexed my fingers anxiously, my stomach starting to churn.
I hadn't had a chance to tell him that I hadn't secured a place in a pack for us yet, but I suspected he already knew — the fact that we weren't moving might have tipped him off — but I still had no plan to work with, or an idea that didn't verge on suicide.
I might be able to slip us out of the city easy enough — even if my twenty-four hours were well and truly up — but where would we go then?
I was about to be fucked over by my hormones. As soon as I went into heat, every wolf nearby would be able to smell it — smell me — and laying low would be virtually impossible.
The thought sent a shiver of anxiety — and a flicker of heat — down my spine.
Flashes of what happened in the station started to tumble through my mind. In my periphery, I could see the knife clattering across the floor. The weight of Michael's body on mine. The warmth of his hands as he grabbed the back of my head. The press of his hips —
