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...
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By the time I slid my key into the door of the apartment, I was beyond exhausted.
Thomas had (silently) delivered me to Battersea Park in an old, beat-up Toyota that had probably seen better days in the 90's. After dumping me unceremoniously on the path outside, he sped off in the direction of Albert Bridge while I watched, suspicious. I wanted to believe that it was the end of the matter, but I had to remember that while Michael seemed to hate us now, he'd still grown up under Sebastien's tutelage. I couldn't trust that he wouldn't have Thomas circle back on foot and attempt to follow me home.
And with another death threat hanging over my head, I couldn't afford to believe that he wouldn't. The fewer people who knew where Theo and I were staying, the better.
So instead of heading home directly, I made my way to the nearest tube station and went shopping. I wasn't much of a shopping person on a normal day but after two pretty severe beatings, it was almost impossible to concentrate on what I was doing. I tried to spread out my purchases, ducking into fabric stores for bed linen and shopping at three different grocery stores for food. I stopped to take a breather in the DVD section of the last one, but a little toddler perched on the baby-seat of a trolley decided to pelt me with Chewits and I was forced to keep moving before I was arrested for murder.
When I finally made it to my front door, a herd of antelopes could have followed me home and I wouldn't have noticed. I let myself inside and the first thing I noticed was the smell. The second was the pile of pizza boxes — eight of them, maybe — strewn across the countertop, next to the fridge.
I froze, my eyes swerving in Theo's direction.
He was sprawled on the sofa, the remote perched on his stomach. He hadn't even bothered to look away from the television and acknowledge my presence.
"I still can't believe he's gone," I heard my mother cry in the background.
"Where did you get those?" I stared at the boxes, willing my voice to say calm. He didn't. He wouldn't...
He shrugged, eyes still on the TV. "I found a menu lying around."
"And how," I said slowly, "did you manage to pay for that?"
He slid an irritated look in my direction and hit the mute button on the remote. My mother's voice was abruptly cut off, and I became acutely aware of the throbbing in my head.
"I took some money out of your wallet while you were in the shower last night," he explained with a hint of defiance. "You know, since it belongs to both of us."
I released a shaky breath, trying to rein in my anger. "Theo, that money belongs to me, not you. As your legal guardian —"
He scoffed at me. "Lira gave you that money to look after me."
He said it with all the arrogance of someone who had been waited on hand and foot his entire life, and the assurance in his tone did me in. I threw my shopping bags down inside the kitchenette, anger exploding through my body. I reached for the empty pizza boxes, slamming my arm along the centre of each box so they folded. "That money," I said, my voice dangerously even, "is the last of my savings. Lira didn't give us anything." I shoved the boxes into the plastic bin by the fridge.
