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Head on a Spike

“Makayla! Makayla slow down!” Christobel shouts after me.

I won’t. I can’t.

My legs carry me swiftly back to the packhouse and through the gated doors that lead down to the dungeons. I’ve only been once, but this trip is decidedly faster than the first. I take the stairs four or five at a time, ripping my lovely party dress and ruining all the hard work Christobel and the attendants did to make me look presentable.

I can’t care about that right now. I can’t even stop my thoughts from scrambling madly, spiraling to a single point. Quinn Iverson must die. Today. At my hands.

How dare she? How dare they?! River Crest wasn’t content with mercilessly tormenting me for years. No, they couldn’t be satisfied now that I am gone and no longer an eyesore to their perfect little pack. They had to go and mess with my new family.

She’s not getting away with that. And once I’m through with her, I’m taking Wesley’s head with my bare hands!

I bottom out at the end of the stairs, huffing furiously and
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