“Isn’t there something else we can do?” Addie asks quietly.
“Like what? You saw the way she reacted to me. She’s timid. We don’t know what happened to her.”
“What if she doesn’t remember how to shift back?” Addie asks.
I miss my human form more than anything, but the thought of shifting back fills me with terror. I haven’t shifted in a very long time. Sid made sure of that.
“I can’t force her to shift. I’m not her alpha.”
“But…”
“She has to want to shift back, Addie.”
Addie nods, though she looks sad. “I’ll see if she’s ready to leave the room tomorrow. Maybe going outside will do her some good.”
“Thanks for taking the reins on this, kid.”
“Of course, Hugo. I’m happy to help. I just wish I could do more for her.”
“Just show her what kind of pack we are. That she can trust us. Let me know if you need anything.” Alpha Hugo pats Addie on the shoulder before turning and walking out of the room.
Addie sighs slightly and turns to look over at me. “How about we try going outside?” she asks.
Outside? Mice and men, I would love to feel the sun on my face and race around the ground, but there are so many unknowns.
Despite the fact that my every instinct tells me that I can trust her, I hold back. I really want to believe what she says. I want to believe that I’m safe and that Hugo is a good alpha. But I’m terrified. I don’t want to be. I never used to be, but I am.
I used to be fierce, in my own right. I used to be strong. But captivity broke me. So much so that my rat had to take over. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Would I even know how to be my human self if I shifted back?
Unless my old alpha is dead—which isn’t the case because I’d feel that connection sever—I’m not safe. Sid will never let me go, and sooner or later, I’ll be right back in his clutches again. It’s only a matter of time.
3
Reese
The warehouse—the huge living space Addie and the other shifters live in—is quiet. Everybody is sleeping. Addie snuck out sometime during the night, probably to be with her mate. Like always, she left my cage door open and her bedroom door cracked. I listen for any sounds, but I don’t hear any signs of movement.
It takes me an hour to gain the courage, but I slink out of my cage and scurry across the room to the door.
I want to…explore.
This surge of budding curiosity and exhilaration has been slowly growing inside of me for the past few days, since I heard the alpha say he wouldn’t push me to shift. I haven’t heard, seen, or smelled Rick or Sid, and it’s like hints of my old self are trying to resurface. And I want them to. Badly.
With no one else around and with the house quiet and everyone sleeping, now is the best time to look around a little. I have no misconceptions about trying to escape. I’m a rat. Even if I could make it out of the warehouse, I’d probably just get plucked off the ground from some damn wild owl. That would be my luck.
When I make it out to the hallway, I notice a huge catwalk with shiny railings. There are metal stairs heading down to the first floor, but there’s no way I’ll be able to make it back up those in my animal form—the steps are way too tall. I mean, I’m a badass rat, but I’m not a giraffe.
I’m just about to give up and head back inside Addie’s room when I notice there’s a little metal runway built alongside the stairs. I tick my ears back in a smile. Only in a shifter house would you find something like that.
I hop up the little path that slopes downwards, and I walk across it all the way down to the first floor. Looking around, I see that everything is shadowed, with just the moonlight through the windows and the soft blue glow of the TV to light it up.
I take my time, sniffing every inch and cranny of the place. I stick to the walls for a while, memorizing the floor plan as I go. The whole first floor is one giant space, with a living room area, game area, kitchen, and dining room.
There are so many amazing smells here, but there’s also a lot of strange shifter scents. I can’t pick up on all of the different ones, but most of them are unlike any I’ve ever smelled before. That worries me, but since they’re not around right now, I keep on snooping.
I check out the kitchen and dining room first, but no food has been left out, unfortunately. I go through the game room next and skirt around the pool table. Just as I’m about to head to the living room, the air shifts and a shifter’s scent hits my nose. It smells like car oil and musky spice and soap.
I freeze when I hear a soft snore. Someone is in here.
I carefully walk around and peer up at the long, stretched-out shadow lying on the leather couch. It’s a male, with his ankles crossed and an arm flung over his eyes. The glow of the TV reveals dark hair and a tanned skin tone, his figure clad in a white t-shirt and worn jeans.
I observe him for a moment, but I can’t decipher what kind of shifter he is. My rat keeps sniffing the air, and for whatever reason, she is digging his scent.
Before I can stop her, she’s climbing up the leather couch and standing up on the cushions. She’s careful not to touch him as she goes past his legs and torso, up the armrest where his head is lying.
Rat! Stop it! Get back down before you wake him up!
She ignores me because she finds something else far more interesting.
There, hanging around his neck is something nice and shiny.
My rat gets closer. But now, I’m not really fighting her, because damn, I can’t pass up something when it gleams like that.
I’m gonna go with it. For curiosity’s sake, that’s all. I just want to know what it is that shines from the TV light so nicely. My feet scurry across the cushions until I’m able to see that it’s a row of open-ended lug nuts hanging around his neck on a simple metal chain. It hangs down past his collarbone, four of them all in a row. I stare at it.
It’s...it’s...beautiful.
Tunnel vision takes over. The metal is smooth and silver and shiny. They would look awesome in my nest. Oh three blind mice, the things I could do with those babies. I want them. I want them so bad.
I shouldn’t do it.
My instincts know it, my conscience knows it, hell, even my common sense knows it. But my greedy nest needs seem to rival all of that, and it somehow wins the argument despite my better judgement.
Before I can talk myself or my rat out of it, I’m already climbing up and across the armrest where the male’s head is currently resting. I skitter up the leather, careful to keep my claws as quiet as possible as I pad over to his neck.
I’d like to say that I take the time to do some very scientific measurements and logistical debates about how best to make it from the armrest where his head is leaning to his necklace without waking him up, but...I don’t. I just got for it.
Keeping my body poised on the edge of the armrest, I extend my arm out and snatch the chain in my hand. Gravity pulls at my upper half, and I nearly fall, but I barely catch myself in time before I face plant into his shoulder.
Whew! That was close.
You’d think that with that near disaster, I’d slow down and try to be a little bit more careful, but I don’t. Apparently, lug nuts are bad for my decision-making skills. But hell, I really, really want one. Or four. Whatever I can get away with.