CHAPTER THREE

EMMELINE (MARY)

Present Day

“Hurry up with the drink, bartender! I don't have all bloody day!” A man seated at one of the tables in the small bar yelled at me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, slightly dizzy from the suddenness of it all. I realized then that I had zoned out. Again. As fast as my legs could carry me, I rushed out from behind the counter, balancing his order in one hand as I made for his table. I managed to get there without spilling anything.

"Y-Your drink, s-sir…" I stuttered, keeping my eyes down apologetically lest I get into more trouble.

"Give me that!" He barked, snatching it from me and shooting me a glare sharp.

Shuddering, I headed back to my position behind the counter. It had been four months since I was employed at this bar, and still the job hadn't gotten easier. My life hadn't gotten any easier. That seemed like a more fitting conclusion. I still felt heavy and hollow, the hole in the chest never closing up completely.

After the death of my family, I retreated into a shell that even I couldn't break out of. I was tired, broken and distant, completely disconnected from the world around me and struggling to find my footing in this world. I had watched my mate and my whole family die, barely escaping death myself. After the execution, the leader of the werewolves warriors who had ambushed us ordered his men to set the entire estate ablaze and burn the bodies.

If luck hadn't been on my side like it was, I would have been burned alive. But that didn't happen.

At first, I didn't see that as a blessing. I was so distraught by the traumatic event that I sometimes wished I'd died. Maybe it would have been easier. The first month was the worst of all. I spent several nights crying myself to sleep, and because I had nowhere to turn to, I didn't have a choice but to remain in hiding. I scoured through the wilderness, waiting patiently until they stopped searching for me.

Apparently, a few days later, they concluded that I was amongst the dead bodies, and the reason why I couldn't be found was because no one had any idea what I looked like. That was the very first time I was grateful for my unique features amongst the Lycans.

I remained in hiding living off forest fruits and taking shelter in caves or whatever the night gave me. I was surviving, but not living. I knew I had to make a change. So I travelled to a distant pack; Redcave Pack. It was a werewolf pack, but small enough to be secluded, so I knew I was safe. It was in this pack that I managed to get the job I had now; bartending at a local pub.

This was my chance at a new life, so I knew I had to grab it with both hands. Being in werewolf territory, although a different one, wasn't exactly safe, so there were specific precautions I had to take to keep my identity hidden. I secured some greenfox leaf which I used to mask my scent. I also had to drink it daily and bathe in it to make it effective. Its function was to make my scent as subtle as possible to enable me to pass for a werewolf.

It wasn't very difficult, because in addition to the leaf treatment, my smallish nature allowed me to fit in without raising any questions. I had also dyed my hair red and taken on a different name.

Here in Redcave Pack, I was known as Mary Sharpe.

The only thing that made me stand out was my beauty. I had never really taken notice nor pride in my looks as a Lycan but now, I knew I was beautiful. More striking than regular werewolves. This singular feature attracted a lot of men to my side. It was ironic that the characteristic my family considered a flaw was actually what kept me alive.

It became overwhelming at times, but I'd learned to keep a low profile regardless. This was what had become of my life. I thought it would get easier eventually, but the numbness only grew deeper.

I missed my home. I missed my family despite their shortcomings. I missed Jonas. Oh, how much I missed Jonas. Every time I thought of him, my eyes would glaze over. I would always remember Jonas Sharpe as the man who had accepted me for all my flaws, accepted me wholly.

My chest was beginning to ache again as I reminisced about the past, so I forced myself to stand upright and think about my future instead. My plan was to work at this bar for a few more months, just until I saved up enough money to move to a more distant and secluded pack.

I resumed work. Seconds later, Mr Gregory, the manager of the bar, walked out of the inner office. He turned to my colleague. "Louise, replace Mary at the counter. Mary, come with me."

I took off my apron and followed him, wondering why he had summoned me.

"Close the door behind you, dear," he said.

I obeyed even though I was uncomfortable. This wasn't a new feeling. Ever since I was hired, he never relented in hitting on me. I had turned him down several times, but he never failed to come up with a new tactic. I silently prayed that this wasn't one of those.

"So.." he began. "There is a new position open in the bar right now, and I would like to give you the role."

I looked up in surprise. That was strange, considering that I hadn't been working here long enough for a promotion. But I was grateful regardless.

"Wow, thank you very much, sir. This is very unexpected–"

"I can think of a much better way for you to thank me," he grinned, rising from his seat and approaching me.

Immediately, my mood turned sour. Right. Of course. Why did I think this was a genuine meeting?

"I don't know why you keep turning me down, Mary," he whispered, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me closer. "Be my girl and you will get a lot more of this good stuff. A promotion is only the beginning."

"No!" I pushed him away from me and scrambled backwards. "I don't want the promotion if you want this in return."

His features contorted in a frown. "Who the hell do you think you are anyway? What would it take to make you mine? I have been kind to you and even offered you a position you ordinarily couldn't even dream of, and yet you're so ungrateful. Come here!"

He tried to grab my hand again, but I was quick to dodge, managing to fight him off before scrambling out of his office.

My chest was heaving when I returned to my counter. Pain, anger and humiliation made tears spring to my eyes. I blinked back the tears, trying to stay strong. But it was all too much. How long would I keep living in situations like this?

I wished that Jonas was here. He would never let anyone treat me this way.

"We will survive this, Emmeline. You just have to be strong," Cara encouraged me. "Everything will be fine. Soon."

I nodded, trying to believe her.

It wasn't up to five minutes after I resumed work when Mr. Gregory stormed out of his office with two security guards, heading straight for me.

"Excuse me, Miss, but you have to come with us. A huge amount of money has been stolen from the manager's office and we are searching everyone's bags."

Confused, I obeyed. I wasn't shaken or worried in the least because I hadn't stolen anything. I could see the manager glaring at me, but I pretended not to notice. We finally reached the staff locker room, and I opened my locker and moved aside.

One of the security guards opened it and began to search it. As they turned it upside down, a thick wad of cash fell out. My eyes widened in shock as I stared at it.

"That's not mine! I-I swear I don't know how that got into my bag." I protested immediately.

They ignored me and faced the manager. "Is this the money you were looking for?"

"Yes. It has the business seal on it. Plus, she was just in my office a few minutes ago. I wouldn't be surprised if she managed to slip it out of my drawer while she was there."

"That's not true!" I protested, nearly going crazy with the absurdity of it all. "I didn't steal anything."

"So how did the money suddenly get into your bag shortly after you were in the manager's office?" The security officer asked.

"I…"

I knew my word against his would not stand, so I turned to him to tell them the truth. But then I saw the smirk plastered on his face. That was the moment I realized that this wasn't a misunderstanding. It was a setup.

The manager had set me up. My breath hitched as I took a step back. He knew that I wouldn't be able to escape a setup like this. Redcave Pack had very brutal practices, and the punishment for theft was amputation, or being sold off to the slave house.

Neither of those options could be my fate. I just couldn't live a life like that. So I did the only thing I was good at; I RAN.

Standing close to the door gave me an advantage. I pushed the back door open and raced out of the bar, not looking back once for fear that it would slow me down.

"Hey! Get back here!!" The security guards yelled after me. I could hear them running after me with all their might. I ran through the bushes, my heart pounding painfully, my legs pushing on, my clothes and skin getting caught in thorns.

But I did not stop.

I was just about to jump past a hole in the ground when I lost my footing. I let out a painful yelp as I stumbled to the ground in pain. Before I could regain my strength, one of the guards yanked me upwards by the collar, his palm connecting to my face in a hard slap.

"You petty thief! You thought you could escape, hm? Let's see how well you steal at the slave house." He shoved me in the other direction. "Move!"