Desired

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

TO KNOW THAT SOMEONE wanted her head was surprisingly amusing. Why? she thought, almost laughing as she and Sebastian made the small trek up the stairs to her small Broadway apartment.

Why did someone want her, Adelaide Collins, dead? The irony of it all wasn't lost on Adelaide; she, the girl who had tried her entire life to fall under the line and out of everyone's sight, who worked in the shadows and knew nothing but silence and the sound of her own voice, was wanted dead.

Well, she couldn't help but think with a grimace, it can't be about the money, then.

Her biological father, business tycoon Devan Westwood, certainly wouldn't pay any ransom for his daughter, whether it was ten dollars or ten million dollars. They hadn't exactly been of the best of terms - not since she was five.

Not since her birthday brought something other than presents wrapped in paper and ribbons. Because for some unknown, unspoken reason, on the twenty-third of November, the heir to the Westwood fortune was replaced by an adopted daughter, with blonde hair and deep green eyes - such a contrast from the brown hair and hazel eyes that Adelaide had inherited from her parents.

If anyone were to line them up though, the dots would connect almost instantly. So they passed their real daughter into the hands of her nanny, ignoring her except for the small, dejected conversations at dinner and glances in the halls of their large house.

Maybe they just forgot about her once they signed little May into their will, or perhaps they hated her, but Adelaide had never known the reason for her alienation. After all, it had been such a loving home...

But as soon as she graduated high school, she legally changed her name, stole twenty-five-thousand dollars from her parents' safe (she doubted that they'd even noticed the missing bills until years after) and signed herself up for a shitty little college where she could stay under the once radar again. She even applied for a job at the small café near her school, and earned a meagre pay that supported her gas bills and food.

The twenty-five grand was for college and her apartment.

It was supposed to work; she'd spent hours, hell, days fixing the little kinks within her plan to distance herself from whatever her childhood was.

After all, her it had worked so far...

Right up until Sebastian Moreau had entered that café. Now, her life would never be the same again, not with his brother after her head and the talk of werewolves.

"So," she asked, fishing her keys from her pocket, "why does your brother want me dead, exactly? I'm sure he knows that my parents don't care about me whatsoever." She eyed him, emotionless as she unlocked her door.

He was stiff almost instantly, and leaned in close, hissing as quiet as possible, "Quiet! Don't talk about that here, wait until we're in the apartment, then I'll tell you everything." He swallowed, Adam's apple bombing in his throat.

"Okay," she murmured in reply, heart beating erratically in her chest, pushing open the door and allowing Sebastian to saunter in.

His eyes swept of everything in a matter of seconds. Her small leather couch, her old television, the small kitchen in the corner, the view from the window. That was probably the only redeeming quality of the apartment.

It was warm during winter and cool during summer, at least. Though the floorboards above her apartment creaked a little sometimes, and the oven decided to play up every now and then, too.

Other than that, it was actually a pleasant place to live. And Adelaide had lived in safe solace away from her childhood and her parents. She payed cheap rent, didn't spend much on anything, and kept her life secluded, but the abandonment she felt at times just couldn't be covered up.