I haven’t spent the past four years avoiding other shifters only to get drawn in by an Alpha’s pretty face. Nothing good can come from associating with Alphas, no matter how nice they seem—or how loudly my wolf is whining about not wanting to leave Julien’s side.
Running was my best option, myonlyoption, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now.
Every move I've made over the last four years has been centered on being mobile and being able to make myself scarce as quickly as possible when necessary. That’s why I was able to shove everything I need to leave town in a single backpack.
Unfortunately, that bag is who knows where, most likely sitting on the ground in the alley by my apartment, with my phone and my money tucked inside. Meaning the only things I have to work with are the clothes on my back and the shoes on my feet.
I chuckle to myself.At least they’re running shoes.
Basically, I’m back where I started four years ago—with virtually nothing.
Though, money wasn’t quite as vital to getting around when I was first on my own and still in Alabama. There were enough open areas that shifting and traveling on four paws wasn’t a problem, but I can’t do that here. Shifting at all would be way too noticeable, and the last thing I need right now is to be noticed.
Why I ever thought it was a good idea to settle in an urban area is beyond me.
Sure, after a couple of close calls in small towns where I caught a glance of a familiar face or a whiff of a familiar scent, I thought it would be better to get lost in a sea of faces, but I never considered what would happen if I ran afoul of the shifters here and lost all my escape routes.
Now, I’m pretty much fucked.
Getting out of Chicago on a budget of zero dollars is about as impossible as it sounds. Hell, just gettingaroundthe city with no money is a pain in the ass and I need to put as much distance between me andevery Alpha in the Midwest—seriously, what the fuck isthatabout?—as quickly as possible.
Without my phone, I have no access to rideshare apps, and without my wallet, a taxi is out of the question. My only option is to hop the turnstile at the nearest L station and hope I don’t get caught.
Getting caught would bebad.
Shifters don’t make up a huge percentage of the population, but at least one or two are bound to be cops, and any shifter cops in Chicago would be part of Rossi’s pack. I might’ve escaped the Chicago Alpha once, but I don’t think I’d be so lucky again. Not only because of the way the guy was looking at me when he found out what I am, but also because he’s under the impression I’m ‘with’ Julien’s pack. I’m not sure what exactly is going on there, but the animosity between those two is glaringly obvious.
And the last thing I want is to be caught in the middle.
A little too late for that…
Some part of me has been restless ever since I first locked eyes with Julien. My shifter instincts—the ones I’ve actively ignored for years—scream for me to go back to him, to curl up with him, to find safety with him, but my past tells me that safety would be nothing but a lie. It’s only because I’ve repressed my wolf for so long that I was even able to leave that SUV.
Maybe I should have stayed with Julien…
No.
Bad idea. Bad wolf. Bad brain.
I shake away that thought and concentrate on locating the nearest L station. Once I’ve gotten a little more distance, I can figure out what to do.
A couple of blocks later, I follow the signs to an aboveground station, then shuffle up behind a group of tourists. I move into the turnstile next to them as they scan their cards. Once the last tourist scans their card, I glance both ways, then as gracefully as possible, I hop over the turnstile and press closer to the tourists on the other side.
If anyone saw me, they don’t say anything. I let out a slow breath of relief. Finally, at least one thing is going right for me. I hop on the first train into the station, not much caring where it’s headed, then slump into a seat. If nothing else, sitting down for a while will be nice.
Sometime later, my stomach growls. Loudly. How long has it been since I’ve eaten?
I grabbed a snack before work last night—
Last night?
Has it only been that long?
It has.
I got home around two, passed out for a few hours before being rudely awakened maybe around five. It was barely dawn when I was smooshed into the car with Rossi’s goons and now it can’t be much past nine.
Damn.
