4. Freedom. Or, Was It Really?

One year later…

The massive facility enclosed in chain-link fences loomed behind me as I headed through the visitor’s parking lot–feeling as if a weight had fallen off my back.

Sadly, that weight, which consisted of the mad desire for private space, freedom, and constantly dealing with bitches picking fights, was replaced with a different kind of weight that tasted a great deal of hate and resentment.

During my year here at the juvenile detention of Cape Falls–specially designed for werewolf delinquents in mind–I had called my own personal hell.

For a whole year, I was trapped in this shit-hole of a place for a bunch of offenses I did not commit. Someone had set me up, and I made it my sole intention to find out who the bastard was.

Halfway through my stay here, my aunt, who was vacationing in Hawaii, told me the truth over the phone. Well, more like fishing for information. Rita was known for her role as the family gossip, and she relished in people’s misery, hence why she likely had contacted me in the first place.

She made it abundantly clear that I did not tell my father about the call and the information she had passed my way.

Guess what? My own father was a rat and a liar. Not only had he made the call to the police that I attended an illegal race, but he had also accused me of carrying drugs on me that the police managed to make a show of once they withdrew an envelope filled with cash from my hoodie and a wrapped, small package. You could take your best guess of what was inside that package.

I could only assume that my father was behind the drugs and cash planted in my hoodie–but how they got there was another matter of its own.

I suspected three men–Darius, Jace, and Hunter. They were the only bastards who had gotten close enough to me that night to plant the shit on me. What I couldn’t figure out was how my father knew of the drugs planted on me, which led me to the conclusion that my father was the one who asked one of them to do the deed.

Hunter. I stopped dead in the middle of the parking lot as realization struck me. How did it not occur to me sooner? He was the one who had phoned my father.

He and my father must have been working together.

Piece of shit.

Though, my stay in juvie wasn’t all a waste. I learned some juicy things about a lot of people and the illegal activities in various packs. The Bloodmoon Brotherhood, in particular, stood out for their shady dealings. I also discovered that Hunter was a rogue wolf, which made me question why the hell Jace hung out with him, considering it was a surefire way to get shunned by our pack.

Being associated with a rogue wolf wasn’t acceptable. Period. But that clearly didn’t stop my father working with one.

Bastard.

I released a long sigh, adjusted the strings of my backpack, then tossed it over my shoulder.

Do you know what the worst part of all of this was? Despite my father being the reason behind everything that had gone wrong for me the past year, I had no choice but to go back home and live with him.

When my mother passed seven years ago, she had left me a crap-ton of money and a manor near the beach for me. Rumor had it that there was more, but I was never allowed to read the will for myself, as my father kept it from me.

Like he was keeping everything else that was rightfully mine from me. Legally, as I was eighteen, I should have gotten my money and whatever it was my mother had left me by now.

But my father being the alpha and a mob boss, he had his ways of bypassing the law, which was how he effortlessly handed me over for minor conduct–though turned to a few, thanks to his lies–and keeping whatever was left behind by my mother from me.

I wanted what was mine.

So I had to suck it up and play the role of the sweet, little daughter and work my way up until I could cash up and run for the hills or as far as my feet and money would carry me.

The funny thing about our pack was that you could go anywhere in the world and not talk to anyone for years and not get exiled. My aunt would be a good example of it.

But, get caught on enemy grounds, and you’re in trouble. Like me, for instance.

I now had to suck ass to get back in good graces with my pack, and it was a journey I wasn’t looking forward to.

I threw my tangles of long chestnut hair over my shoulder and muttered a string of expletives. “Where the hell is my driver?”

Or was this another thing my father had lied about when he claimed he’d have my driver pick me up? In that exact wording, which made me conclude that he had hired a driver specifically for my needs.

It would have been perfect. Then I didn’t have to constantly nag him to borrow one of his drivers to take me where I needed to be.

But it seemed the driver in question was slacking on the job. Again, that was if my father didn’t lie about it.

I was about to spin around and march toward a concrete bench to sit down when a candy-red Chevrolet Corvette Stingray flew into the parking lot, blasting Enemy by Imagine Dragons through the speakers.

I snorted in annoyance, resuming my fuming strut toward the bench when the stupid, flashy red car honked, and I jerked around.

I cursed. “What the f—?” The words died in my mouth when the car door flung open, and Jace stepped out.

Sweet baby monkeys. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he nodded with that punch-me grin and leaned with his arm over the top of the driver’s door. “Your ride is here.”

A few things had changed about me during the time I was forced to spend in juvie. A few potentially damning things; one, primarily, was my temper and how I handled sticky situations.

The Elise, before juvie would talk her way out or suck it up and smiled. The Elise now?

I offered him the sweetest smile I could muster and stalked toward him, my backpack swinging behind me. “Jace,” I drawled.

I swear, he grinned even wider. “Glad to see that place didn’t mess you up. You’re still as cute and–”

My fist drove into his nose, and a satisfying crack sounded. Jace was caught so much off guard that it took him a moment of blank blinking as he tried to process what had happened.

It gave me an open opportunity to land another one. Or at least, I attempted to punch him again, but as he cupped his bleeding nose with one hand, he used the other to catch my hand.

Screw this. I dropped my backpack and used my other hand to launch a blow against his jaw.

“What the fuck, Elise?” He used both hands this time to take hold of mine, spinning me around and pinning my hands to my lower back. “What is wrong with you?”

“You,” I hissed angrily, my body hot with fury. “You are what is wrong!”