Running

Chapter Eighteen: For Victoria

Aaron's POV:

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It's been a few days since the incident. I'm holed up in my room. My wolf is screaming at me to go console my mate, but I ignore him and take another swig of my whiskey.

The pack has taken turns coming to my door everyday and trying to get me to come out, but I block them out. There's only one thought in my mind:

Poor Iris. Poor Iris. Poor Iris.

I'm a horrible mate. I need her touch, her smell, her voice. But no. I have to ignore her.

My whiskey glass is empty. So are the countless bottles of beer and vodka spread across the floor. I need a shower, I need sleep, I need Iris.

I need a lot of things.

My mum, my sister, my father, my mate, a life, love, forgiveness, to be sober.

If I were sober, I'd be at Iris's house right now. I would be able to talk to her, beg for forgiveness, maybe even tell her about the audacious idea of our kind. The werewolves.

But I'm drunk. So I pick up the phone and call her house.

"Hello?" a nice woman answers the voice, sounds overly happy and cheery.

"Locke residence. May I help you?"

"Yes," I slur. "H'lo. May I s--speak to my girl Iris?"

I can hear her growl. I wonder why. "And why is that, young man?"

"'Cause I love 'er," I announce loudly. "I love Iris. I need her. Bring her the phone."

"If you know what's good for you, boy, you'll stay away," and with that, she hangs up, leaving me astounded and angry.

Who was that anyway? I wonder, furious. Who does she think she is? After the party tomorrow, I will figure it out.

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Unknown's POV:

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Oh, no. My plans. My precious plans.

She was going to be ruined. And this boy is now ruining me!

Love. Ha. Should have guessed. Never got love, not I. But of course, Little Miss Perfect gets it with the snap if her little flawless fingers. Uh-uh.

The plans. Throw 'em down the trash, rip 'em to shreds. They don't matter anymore.

Have to make new plans. More death, count the deaths off the fingers.

Then I won't have to worry. Me, Rodney, and Terra will have a nice life. I'll tie Terra down if I have to.

Never really felt anything for that Rodney. Terra's not even his child, I mean, really.

Some guy that passed through North Carolina, 'ol Thomas. He was nice, not really my type, but he was cute. Perky. I needed that.

But he left. They all do. And lil' ol' Petunia Locke was left to give birth to a baby. No problem there, but Rodney thought she was his. Still does. Eh.

Iris is not Terra. Not Terra. Nope.

Iris, perfect, blonde, beautiful, flawless, blah, blah, blah. But Terra is real. She's average, acne, squinty-eyed, cold, brunette. But I love her with all my heart.

Not Iris. She ruined my life. Ruined it. I'll get her. For Victoria.

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