Page 27 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

“Enlighten me,” I said, keeping my face carefully blank.

“You’re a stray.” She stepped closer, voice low and precise. “No pack. No history. No name that anyone recognizes. You show up out of nowhere and think you can just insert yourself into something that’s been decided for years.”

I relaxed a fraction. "A stray. That's creative."

“I’m serious.” She closed the remaining distance, close enough that I could see the specific quality of her anger, old and hot and not entirely about me. “My father is the pack beta. It has been understood since we were children that Jackson and I would be mated. Our families arranged it before we could walk. It’s not a crush. It’s a blood alliance. A future. And you are in the way of that future.”

"If that's true, he's doing a terrible job of showing it," I said.

Naomi gave a laugh. "You think he's showing interest. I think he's being kind." She tilted her head. "Jackson collects strays. He always has. He gives them attention until they mistake it for something more. Then he moves on. And when he does, you'll have nothing. No people. No place here. You'll just be the girl who passed through and thought she meant something."

She smiled, small and cold. "I've watched him do it before."

I looked at her, weighing it. People who warned you away from something rarely did it for your benefit. The pieces settled into place. This wasn't about me. Not really.

"I'm sure you have," I said pleasantly. "Front row seat, every time." I met her eyes. "Must be a great view from there."

Something shifted in her expression before she smoothed it away.

"At least I have people who would notice if I disappeared," she said, smiling thinly. "You? You could vanish tomorrow and the only person who’d care is you. That’s the difference between someone who belongs and someone who’s just passing through."

"I'm alone because I choose to be," I said. "Not because no one would have me." I stepped into her space. "There's a difference between solitude and being disposable, Natasha. You might want to think about which one you're projecting."

Color rose in her face, sharp and fast. "It's Naomi, you bitch."

She lunged with both hands, going for my hair, which told me everything about how she fought.

I sidestepped and let her momentum carry her past me, then drove my elbow into her ribs as she went by. The sound she made was satisfying. She stumbled, caught herself on the porch railing, and turned back toward me with fury replacing whatever composure she had left.

She came again, faster and angrier this time. I caught her wrist, twisted hard, and spun her face-first into the porch wall. My forearm pressed across her shoulders while I locked her wrist behind her back, holding her cheek against the wood.

Naomi struggled. I increased the pressure by a fraction and she stopped moving.

I leaned close. “Put your hands on me again and I will not be this gentle. Nod if you understand.”

A long, furious beat passed before she gave a single humiliated nod.

I released her and stepped back, smoothing my dress with both hands. "Good talk."

Back inside, I cut straight through the hallway and into the kitchen. I grabbed the nearest bottle, poured two fingers of vodka into a cup, and threw it back in one go. The burn was clean and immediate.

Cassidy would find me. I wasn't in the mood to go looking for her.

I drifted back to the dance floor alone, letting the rhythm pull me in as the warmth from the drink softened the edges of the room.

Then something shifted in the air around me and I felt him before I saw him. My cat went from bored to alert in the space between one heartbeat and the next, but I kept dancing and pretended I hadn’t noticed.

A minute passed, maybe two.

Then he was behind me, close enough that I felt the heat of him at my back. His scent cut through everything else in the room, that sharp wild edge that belonged only to him. He didn’t touch me. Not yet. He gave me a moment, long enough to move away if I was going to.

I didn’t.

Jackson closed the distance, his hands finding my hips. He fell into my rhythm with effortless precision, his body aligning with mine until there wasn't a breath of space between us. I let myself lean back a fraction, enough to feel the heat and solid weight of him behind me. The top of my head barely reached his mouth. Every hard inch of him registered against my spine.

My cat stretched, thoroughly pleased.

We kept moving, and across the crowd I caught Naomi’s stare. She stood near the far wall, cup in hand, face locked somewhere between shock and pure hatred.