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“Holy crap, you’re strong,” I breathed. “I’ve wanted to destroy that brush since I was fifteen.”
“She’s hit you with it before?” Margarette demanded. Her long nails were piercing the sides of Holly’s throat now, and the hot tang of fresh blood joined the odors. I nodded, and my rescuer growled. “She’ll never hit you again, darling. Not with that or anything else.” She whispered in Holly’s ear, “You need to have hands to hold a weapon, don’t you?”
Holly went still in Margarette’s grip, the sobbing dorm mistress’s terror filling the room with a sour, acrid stench. Well, her fear and the urine that was now staining the legs of her jeans.
Margarette purred her question again, holding the other woman up like she weighed no more than a loaf of bread. “I asked you a question, shifter. You need to have hands to hold a weapon, don’t you?”
“Y-yes, ma’am,” Holly whimpered. It was all I could do not to do a fist pump and cheer. Margarette was obviously slightly psychotic, but I was a hundred percent here for it.
Her gaze was calm when she turned to me, though. “Is she the one in charge of making sure the girls who live here have the basic necessities? Clothing, bedding, toiletries?”
“Yep,” I said, loving the desperate, bloodshot glare that Holly sent me. “That’s her job.”
At last, Margarette dropped the bleeding shifter on the floor, and we watched her wheeze for a moment before she glared up at both of us. “I don’t know who you are, lady, but my Alpha is gonna tear your tits off for daring to touch one of his own?—”
“You weren’t at the fights then,” Margarette said with a cool look. “You have no idea who I am.”
“Who are—” Holly’s words cut off as Margarette stepped down on her neck with one red combat boot.
“I am the Head Enforcer of the Northern Pack, and the mate to the Northern Pack’s Alpha, who happens to be the Head of the North American Council. And the girl you were trying to assault is the newest member of my pack.” I swallowed hard, still wondering how my luck had changed in such a short time.
Holly made a gurgling sound.
“Help me understand, Holly, why this room had nothing, if you have the job of seeing to the needs of the residents? No blankets, not even an extra roll of toilet paper. What I really want to know is if you weren’t provided with those things to distribute, or if they are—I don’t know—stockpiled somewhere? Perhaps providing a little income on the side?” She stepped off Holly’s neck, so she could answer.
“There might be a few rolls of toilet paper in the storage,” Holly rasped. “I’ve got some canned goods in my room, cereal and some bottles of juice. Not much. Alpha Callaway ain’t sent supplies in for a good month now.”
“Hmm,” Margarette said, tapping a long, manicured nail on her chin. “I really want to kill you. But my new daughter is tired. Flor? I’ll leave it up to you. Would you like me to rip her throat out?”
I stifled a giggle when I realized she really meant it. But I shook my head. “Make her give the supplies and food she’s hoarded to the unranked girls. Share it out evenly.”
“As you wish, sweetheart.” Margarette kicked Holly over, toward the door. Then she spoke in a voice that resonated with power and anger. “Holly, you will leave this room and give everything you’ve hoarded to the girls that live here. You will empty out your own room until you have no more than what Flor has at this moment in here. If you try to disobey, I will kill you. If you keep back even a scrap of food, no matter if you think you’ll escape me, I will find you, and keep you alive as my wolf feasts on your innards in retribution. Then I’ll give your remains to the vultures. Are we clear?”
I wasn’t sure if Holly was going to pass out or not. She went an odd shade of red, and the shaking her head was doing might have been a nod. Margarette allowed her to crawl out of the room as I stood to watch, wishing I had a camera to record this on.
Margarette took me by the elbow and moved me back to the bed, her voice soft and sweet again. “Well, that was unpleasant. And I thought I asked you to rest?”
“I’ve been dreaming of that woman getting her just desserts for a long time. I needed to see it.” We both laughed, and I decided maybe both Margarette and I were the same kind of crazy. While she bagged up my belongings, I gathered my courage and asked the question that had been burning my tongue. “So you’re really my foster mom?”
She hummed her assent. “For now, yes. I’ll also be your bodyguard. There are too many angry Southern assholes looking for you. Don’t worry, I’ll be driving us out of this cesspit as soon as possible.”
“Amen to that. And you don’t need to pack my stuff. I don’t want anything, except to leave this place and never look back.”
She turned halfway to face me. “Throw it away?” I nodded. “Oh, thank goodness. We’ll get you all new.” I laughed, but stopped when she went on, too casually, “You don’t think you’ll ever want to come back for… Luke?”
“Luke?” I tried not to react. “Why would I do that?”
She dropped the half-filled bag into the trash can. “He’s your true mate, Flor.”
“I truly don’t give a rat’s ass,” I stated baldly. “If he is—and I’m not sure he’s not making it all up—then he lost the right to be my mate when he let Southern use me as their whipping girl. When he let them…” I almost said, “hunt me,” but I wasn’t sure I was ready for the questions that would bring. “When he let them treat me like shit.”
Margarette’s brow furrowed. “Flor, true mates are Mother Moon’s greatest gift. You only get one. You should feel compelled to mate with him. Don’t you want to have children?”
The thought of being a mother made me cackle with laughter. “Hell to the no, ma’am,” I finally managed. “Babymaking? I’ve spent years running from that trap. And I’ll keep on running. Anyway, Luke’s no such thing.”
Margarette frowned. “But… we witnessed his wounds. The ones you gave him. The moon has called you both to be together. All shifters have obligations, Flor. Especially since the war—we lost almost one in three wolves at Northern. All of the packs suffered, and are still struggling to rebound. Those of us who are left have a duty.”
“Um, to who?”
