Angelina's POV
She was dreaming again.
"Don't look at my face," Her father's voice "Look at my weapon."
It was so familiar, the forest they were surrounded by, the hilt of a blade in her hand.
Steel clashed, and Angelina could feel the burn of her muscles, straining against her father's blade. She remembered every swipe and parry, every move she was supposed to make to disarm him and win.
She dodged a swipe of his weapon, ducked under his arm, into his guard and placed the blade on his neck.
August smiled, breathing hard "Good, you're getting better."
Angelina pulled the blade away, grinning "Better than you?"
"Lets not get ahead of ourselves just yet," He mussed her hair, chuckling "We'll practice again after lunch."
Her stomach growled, and Angelina nodded, thinking of the lemon cake mama was going to make for lunch.
"Papa, when are you going to tell me?" Angelina asked when they started walking home
August's shoulders stiffened "When you're ready."
Irritation sparked. The same answer every time.
"I am ready," Angelina stopped, fists balled "I'm good at everything you wanted me to learn. Why wont you just tell me?"
His eyes, the same dark green as hers, were so guarded, so shuttered against emotion, Angelina got another kick of irritation.
"You're not ready," August said, a cold calm in his voice "And this behavior is proof. You're too impatient, Angelina."
Yes, she was impatient. Fourteen years were enough to test anyone's patience. She was tired, and she was hungry, and she was impatient.
She said nothing, only turned away and started walking. August called after her, but didn't come himself. They both knew she wouldn't stop now.
Angelina walked until her mind cleared, until the forest gave way to a clearing to a pack's territory. She wanted to talk to her friends, she wanted to scream her frustration.
But the clearing had no pack there, no array of houses scattered around.
One house stood, shrouded in darkness, the front door hung open.
Angelina felt her ribcage tighten around her heart, she back away, and turned back into the forest. No, she wouldn't go there. She would go back to her father, and tell him he was right, tell him she was stupid and reckless and so, so sorry.
The front hall was littered with broken furniture.
No, she couldn't breathe. Angelina turned back to the door, to get out, to run.
The door in front of her wasn't the one she sought. It was familiar, so achingly, familiar. The door to her father's study was slightly ajar.
Stop, she wanted to draw her hand back before she opened it. Stop, she didn't want to step inside. Stop, she didn't want to look ahead.
Her eyes snapped open.
Angelina was aware of her shallow breaths in the little bedroom, aware of Morgan's soft snores on the bed against the opposite wall. The ring on her hand burned like coals.
Breathe, she rolled onto her back, skin feverish. Breathe, she was too used to this by now. It was a dull ache in her chest, an old wound. Breathe, it was the new normal.
Angelina sat up, and scooted over to reach the window curtains. It was still dark outside.
With a sigh, Angelina got up. Every nerve was jittery, something heavy weighted on her chest, making familiar anxiety crawl over her skin like insects.
She cast her hands a glance, the ring on her right hand. It was a simple band of burnished gold, an obsidian stone at the center.
Little fissures appeared at the seams, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
Abruptly, Angelina grabbed a hoodie from the closet, and left the room.
The Omega quarters of Winter's Territory were silent in the hours before dawn.
She left the crammed building, made to accommodate maximum people in minimum space, and breathed in the cold air.
Angelina felt the rough bark of a tree near the edges of the forest that their territory shared with the neighboring pack. She could go for a quick run right now. No one would know.
Angelina touched her fingers to the knife strapped at her wrist, the metal cool and composed.
She walked into the forest.
…
The first hints of sunlight cut as shards through the trees. Most of the leaves were gone, hinting the quickly approaching winter.
Angelina's feet were near silent on the dry leaves on the earth.
She finally stopped at the base of a tree, breaths clouding in front of her face. She wasn't tired yet, and so painfully wished her muscles ached, her throat burned.
With a deep breath, she collected those thoughts and put them out.
Something moved in her peripheral. She held her breath.
Angelina moved slowly, going around the big trunk of the tree. It must be an animal, the thought didn't ease the hammering of her heart.
Just go on like you didn't notice, Angelina thought, walking straight ahead.
So much of survival was to be ignorant, to continue as if you didn't know the danger existed.
Something caught hold of her neck, her front hit the rough bark of a tree. Whoever held her knew she'd seen him. The wrist on which she'd strapped the knife was gripped firmly.
"Let go," Angelina spoke, face digging in the bark
"Who are you?" A grim voice, oddly familiar
"No one in a hoodie and sweatpants can be of consequence," Angelina didn't put a struggle
"What are you doing in our territory?"
Ah, so she'd walked right out of their own pack's territory.
"An honest mistake," She said with a calm she didn't feel "I'm from Winter's territory."
She hoped it was just a warrior on patrol, no one who'd report her. She couldn't handle Alpha Jax breathing down her neck.
Her captor eased his hold, and slowly let her go, stepping back.
"Thank you," Angelina rubbed her cheek, turning "and I apologize—
Words dried on her tongue. For a moment, the world was still.
Tyler Anderson, the son of Xavier and Edna Anderson, filled her vision, looking as stunned to see her as she was to see him.
Tyler Anderson, a friend in another lifetime, stood in front of her.
And he was definitely not dead.
Angelina wasn't sure if she was elated or horrified. He overcame that confusion rather quick.
Before she knew it, her childhood friend was choking her.
"What are you doing here?" Tyler's face was a mask of furry
Reality crashed down, and walls shuttered. No, they were no longer kids with secrets to share and adventures to be had. They were both dead and breathing, and it was all her fault.
If he pressed any harder, he'd crush her windpipe.
He doesn't know that, the thought cut through her panic. He had no idea what she was now. To him, she was likely the most dangerous thing in this forest.
"Good to know you're alive," She kept her voice low, incase her breath betrayed her
His eyes narrowed "Here to change that?"
The accusation grated against her composure, and once, she'd have snapped at him for it. Once, she'd have shoved and snarled and fought.
Now a cold gathered in her veins, all the words she couldn't say stamped down any emotion "Step back, Anderson."
Maybe it was the resolve in her tone, maybe it was the past he knew, but a moment later, Tyler's hand fell away.
Angelina was glad he couldn't know there was probably a necklace of bruises on her throat, glad he couldn't see just how weak she was now.
Tyler watched her like you would a wild animal.
"You're supposed to be dead." There was no malice in those words, just a fact
Angelina wanted to laugh until it turned into a cry "So are you."
Cold wind rushed between them and a thousand questions pressed at the back of her mind. Here was quiet possibly the only other living being who knew her past, and she was glad to see alive, and he hated her with seething passion.
She wished she could fault him for it.
"What are you doing, Varon?" The heat had left his face, now there was cold calculation
That's not my name anymore, She wanted to say, I don't belong to that family anymore. She was too far gone to be one of them, too damned by fate.
Instead, Angelina pulled the hood over her head again and turned back to her own pack's territory.
"Running."
As she always was.
...