I bit down, pressure building in my temples.
It was simple, really. I said no, so he decided to set my world on fire.
“Explain,” she said carefully.
The corner of his lips teased at a smirk. No doubt he was gearing up to humiliate me. “She has a little crush.”
Hot rage flashed my face, my neck, my chest.
Rolling up his sleeves, he exposed his muscles, or at least, where they once were. “I was supposed to go to college for water polo. She was going to stay here and finish high school.”
“Minors cannot testify without parental consent,” Jesalynn cut in.
“Oh.” He fisted his mouth, holding back a laugh. “River’s not a minor. She was a senior last year. She just didn’t graduate in June like the rest of us.”
Pins and needles struck my skin at what was sure to be hundreds of eyes falling on me. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, sinking lower, attempting to blend with the silhouettes of the humans and wolves.
“And with me being in the kennels these past few weeks, adjusting to…” Chet gestured up and down his body, breezing over the subtle changes I’d missed from trying not to look too hard—the scruff on his chin, his broader shoulders, his thicker neck—now glaring. “So, forgive her for some of the things she might say. She’s dealing with major separation anxiety.”
The dreaded whispers came, like I knew they would. Unable to look at him—at anyone—I glanced at my hands, wringing them tight in my lap.
A growl rumbled against my leg. Mau.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, running my fingers through the raised fur on the back of her neck. “I won’t let him get away with this.”
“Jennings, take a seat.” Finally. “Nephilim, come forth.” Ivan gestured me forward with an open palm.
Desperate to keep my legs steady, I slid off the low wall, the pavers slick under the soles of my feet.
Anxiety pummeled through me, a restless drumbeat, as I made my way onto the stage.
Up here, the breeze deflected off the rock, nipping at my clothes, my hair. I cleared my throat, the acoustics of the clearing catching the sound, projecting it like a natural megaphone.
“H-hello. My name is River,” I said—I think. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the howling of the wind and the emotion in my voice, but not the words.
My knees buckled. Gripping the sides of the podium’s top, I held myself up as much as I hid behind it. I needed air. I needed to breathe.
Drawing in a deep inhale, I slowly counted to ten.
Hundreds of beady eyes glittered in the dark. Waiting. Watching. This was going to suck, but I’d gone through worse—I’d actually had Chet breathing down my neck before.
My slow intake of oxygen helped quiet the overwhelm—a trick from my therapist.
The thought of Dr. Fairmore sent a pang of guilt through me. I hadn’t visited her grave in weeks. And to this day, this hour, this heart-rattling second, it was her words that got me through the overwhelm.
Take a deep inhale, she used to tell me. Hold it in. She’d wait a beat. Good, now release.
So, I did. And with that exhale, the panic, the fear, the urge to run away, all escaped.
It felt like it took forever to find my voice again. But I did.
“I’m here on behalf of Shanley, leader of the Santa Cruz City Pack, as witness to Chet’s behavior at the bonfire—and before then,” I said, just as I’d rehearsed.
“Yes, we’re well aware of that.” Ivan’s voice boomed behind me. “Get on with it, girl.”
I flinched at the sharpness of his tone. Had I been standing behind one of those standard wood lecterns they used at the community college, it would have toppled over.
“Yes, your honor, I mean your Elder, uh—” Muffled laughter swept over the crowd. My temperature must have jumped a thousand degrees.
