2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Daisy

“ D o you want me to cut your dick off?” I ask as his stale breath floats over my shoulder. I grip the handle of the knife tighter as I cut the meat. “Back the fuck off,” I say calmly.

“You smell different,” Turner says.

“I dyed my hair, as you can see.” I look over my shoulder, glaring. Fortunately, he backs up. Unfortunately, he doesn’t leave me alone but leans against the counter beside me. I have blonde hair halfway to my waist. Every month, I visit my friend, Lace, a witch, who dyes it with purple streaks.

“Why do you let the witch close enough to spell you?” he sneers.

“She is my friend. You know the dye won’t stay as long unless she does it,” I point out again. We have had the same conversation many times before.

“You trust her that much?”

I continue to make my sandwich. “Yes. She is my only friend. Can you shut the fuck up about her?” Lace has given me a place where I can be at peace. We met four years ago and have formed a bond. She accepted me as I am without reservation.

“Alright.” He puts his hand on the counter close to me and leans in. “Remember, you have to go out tonight.” I look at his hand and then at the knife. It would be so easy. I know the blade is sharp, but he would heal quickly, and I’d be in for more cruelty afterwards.

“I remember.” I slide the knife under the edge of the plate and put my food on top of it. “You have reminded me numerous times,” I say dryly. “What you haven’t explained is why. Why do you need the item you left in the woods?” I have a feeling he’s trying to get me out there to kill me.

“I just do. Are you going to follow the rules?” He narrows his eyes, staring at me, hoping to find a weakness. He likes digging out weaknesses.

“Don’t I always follow the rules?” I tilt my head and pick up my plate. I almost make it past him when he grabs my elbow, and I freeze. “I’m not kidding. I will cut your small dick off,” I growl.

“Where are you going?” he asks but drops his hand.

“To my room. To eat. Is that alright? Is that against the rules, asshole?” I grit out.

“Nope.” He grins. “But be ready to go at six.”

“I got it.” I turn sharply and leave the kitchen. I calmly, steadily, and slowly walk down the short hallway. I turn right and walk up the stairs. I feel his stare on my back the whole way.

In this house, showing fear means death. Showing disobedience means death. Only a stupid shifter would show either of those.

I am not stupid.

I am a fighter. I have been trained since I was young to steal.

My hand only shakes a little as I turn the knob to my bedroom door. I don’t allow it to continue to shake until I am on the other side of the wood. I shut it softly and lock the six different locks I installed myself. I have to keep them out somehow. At least the locks would slow them down.

I drop to the bed. I look down at the plate and pull the knife I palmed underneath it. I have stolen many things from the kitchen and many other places, not for the joy of it but for survival. I am the queen of survival. I had to be.

My legs start to shake. It’s getting harder and harder to pretend I’m not scared out of my fucking mind. I’m also pissed off. I hate Turner. I hate living here with him and his pack. I fear for my life daily, but I will never let it show on the outside. I will never let them know the pain I live with every day because of this pack, not only the pain in my heart, but my legs.

Here, they start your education early. We are taught to steal. I wasn’t a fast learner, and to make the lessons stick, the others in the pack would bite my legs hard enough to hit the bone. I wasn’t allowed to shift after, not for days. Of course, I didn’t heal correctly. So I have scars all over my legs.

Every day I am in pain. My legs and my heart.

Why don’t I leave? They don’t lock me in; I lock myself in.

Turner is the leader. He has my brother. I have no idea where, and I won’t leave without knowing. He holds his knowledge over my head, forcing me to steal for the pack and run errands of all kinds for him. I must live in this house with fifteen other shifters who do whatever he wants without complaint. To even the scales, I stole one of Turner’s most valuable possessions, a coin worth a ton of money. I fondly remember his face the day I informed him I had it. At first, he didn’t believe me, but he searched for a week and didn’t find it.

He almost killed me that night. It took me a couple of weeks to heal, but it was worth it. I made him a deal: my brother for the coin. He told me he would think about it. He’s been thinking about it for a month.

We are at a stalemate.

My friend Lace is a witch and a tattoo artist. Her power isn’t very strong. She told me she will reach her full potential when she meets her mate. I don’t know how she knows, but she has no reason to lie. She knows some location spells. She tried to help me locate my brother with no luck. The one thing she can do is dye my hair, be my only friend, and ink my skin. We are almost done covering every inch of my scarred legs with colorful tattoos. My right arm is covered from shoulder to wrist.

She also implanted the coin underneath one of those scars. It hurt. Bad.

I take pleasure from standing in the same room as Turner, his prized possession under his nose. He will have to peel the skin from my dead body to find it; I will never tell.

Once I find my brother, I will run away with him and use the coin to fund our new life.

I am a thirty-two-year-old coyote shifter. My brother is twenty-seven but I haven’t seen him since he was eighteen. We decided to run away from the pack. We picked the place we would run to. The next day, my brother was gone. Turner was thrilled to tell me he sold him to another pack. I begged. I pleaded. I cried. He didn’t care or budge.

So I started to plan. And I never cried or begged in front of him again.

My parents are a myth. I don’t remember them; all I remember is this pack of sick coyotes. Years ago, Turner informed me my parents were killed by a vampire, but I have no reason to believe him. Obviously, something happened to them. When I was younger, I would dream they would come back to rescue me from this hellish house, but that’s all it was—a dream. Every night, I would close my eyes and try so hard to remember a face, a smell, or anything of the life I shared with my parents. I thought there had to be something. I failed. I sometimes wonder if Turner bought me or stole me from them. I don’t want to believe they would leave me and my brother intentionally.

I glance at the cot in the corner. He stayed here with me. I didn’t trust Turner and the others. My brother Liam is special. He trusts too easily and is a sensitive soul. I worry every day about him. Is he in pain? Is he scared? Did he forget about me? But the worst is if he thinks I abandoned or forgot about him.

Every day, I walk the streets, taking in the scents around me, hoping by some miracle I run across his unique scent. I even went to an investigator, but he asked too many questions. He was a human. How could he look for my shifter brother? I couldn’t explain what happened because I didn’t know. The man wanted to get the police involved if my brother was missing, but I couldn’t allow it. I always have to be careful; Turner finding out about my inquiries would make my life even more difficult.

I have nowhere to turn. I don’t have any family. Your pack should be your family, not the people who you distrust the most and fantasize about killing when they are asleep.

If I kill the one person who knows where Liam is, I won’t be able to live with myself.

I realize my plate is empty and throw it to the bed. I should be more worried about tonight. Turner has given me a mission, and I must fall in line. He probably killed someone in the woods and dropped his stupid watch, leaving evidence. I was taught never to leave clues behind. This isn’t the first time he’s sent me out without telling me the details. Most likely, as I said, he instructed his minions to kill me or torture me into giving up the location of the coin. I should care, but I don’t. I shouldn’t go, but I will. If they try to hurt me, I will do what I always do—fight.

They bit me when I was much younger, and I didn’t know how to fight or defend myself. Today was the first time in a long time Turner touched me; deep down, he knows I will not hesitate to do what I threatened. The women of the world would rejoice if I sliced off his penis.

I double-check my locks, palm my knife, and go into the bathroom, locking that door, too. I move the heavy vanity in front of the door before turning on the shower. None of my precautions will stop them from breaking in, but they will give me extra minutes to defend myself. They haven’t tried to physically touch me for years, but caution is ingrained in every move.

I strip quickly and step under the water. The bathroom is small, and the shower is even smaller, but it works. I am not a slim girl. I have wide hips, my stomach isn’t flat, my breasts are a D-cup, and my thighs are thick. I am strong, though, and I haven’t had any complaints. I love my body, but my packmates love to talk shit about my curves. Coyote shifters, the ones I know at least, value a slim build. I believe your body is your body, whether small, curvy, slight, or anything in between. It’s important to love it and find someone who will celebrate it. I realize not everyone thinks the same, like the shifters in this house.

I don’t have relationships; I tried, but it didn’t work. Imagine bringing a man to this house where you hate the shifters who live here and they can hear everything. Plus, I haven’t found a mate, so what's the point? Don’t get me wrong—I am far from a virgin. I have casual relationships, but usually, it’s just for a few hours, and we go to their place or a hotel. Turner knows I won’t leave permanently without my brother, so he doesn’t watch me as closely as he used to. Shifters are physical creatures; we love being close to someone, preferably someone we like and are attracted to. I can’t even masturbate in my own bedroom unless the house is empty.

I finish and dry off. I always make sure to have spare clothes in here, so I rifle through the small assortment.

My usual outfit is jeans, light long-sleeved shirts, and T-shirts, sometimes tanks. I like to be covered. Lace doesn’t understand why I don’t show off my tattoos. I explained to her they weren’t for anyone else. I got them for me to enjoy and know the meaning behind them, not for other people.

I dress in jeans and a long-sleeved light purple shirt and brush my hair. I slip a hair tie around my wrist in case I have to run for my life tonight. I put the vanity back and move back to the bedroom just as a knock hits the door.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Time to go, Sweets,” Ryan says.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” I answer, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on my shoes. I love them. I spent the money to buy steel-toed boots; they come in handy.

Ryan is Turner’s right-hand man. They bond over their cruel ways. I’m not surprised he is the one in charge of this outing. He will do whatever Turner asks him to do.

I slip my small knife into my boot and another into the waist of my jeans, hiding it under my shirt. They may be small, but they work the same as big ones. With enough fury behind the thrust, they will do the damage needed. I put the key to my room in my pocket and unlock my phone. Just in case, I text Lace informing her of the night's plan. If I disappear, at least she knows I didn’t bail.

I leave the room, locking the door behind me, and take a deep breath. My legs are sore, but they always are, and I have to suck it up.

As I descend the stairs, the sight below me is straight out of my nightmares. Turner stands beside Ryan, his hand on his shoulder, his low laughter traveling the room. Four others from the pack are waiting with them.

“Ready, Sweets?” Turner asks.

“I’m always ready,” I toss back. “Do I get to know where we are going?” I ask, stopping in front of them.

“Nope,” Ryan grunts.

“Did you decide to come with us, Turner?” Do not show fear.

“I have plans,” he says with a secret smile. He is making a move, sick of waiting for the coin.

Awesome. Five against one.

“Right. So, let's go,” I say. Turner loses some of his cocky expression. Do you think I’m going to cower, asshole?

“Sure.” Ryan shares a meaningful look with Turner.

Fuck.

Yep, they are going to try to kill me tonight.

It should be fun.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back. The minute you look back in the movies, you fall. I like to think I am a bit more coordinated, but when running for your life, you shouldn’t take chances.

I like being right, but not in this case.

My first clue was the rope Henry took from the trunk when we got out of the car.

I didn’t stick around to find out the next clue.

I ran into the forest, not knowing where the fuck I was going but knowing I didn’t want to stay with them. Shifters love a good hunt, and my pack is no different. But I am fast. I finally learned how to be fast and smart.

I hear them behind me, but not too close yet. I don’t want to shift, even though it would help. I’m faster in my coyote form. I really don’t want to be caught with no clothes on in the same area as they are. It will be my last resort.

“Bitch, you can’t run forever,” Henry shouts.

Probably not.

I leap over a fallen tree and almost look behind me. Dammit, bitch, don’t look back.

I am well aware of the reputation of coyotes. We are called thieves, cheats, liars, and not worthy of the gifts we are given. It’s all true. We are all of those things.

I lie every day.

I steal every day.

I wish I didn’t have this gift. I wouldn’t be running to save myself and my coyote.

I cheat daily. I use all the tricks I have to try to get my brother back and stick it to Turner.

I wish I didn’t have to. I wish someone would save me and my brother.

But I know my wishes aren’t worthy of being answered.