Dead before i leave

I didn’t pack. I didn't have enough stuff to fill a bag anyway. Just three oversized shirts, a pair of boots with thin soles, and a picture of my dad before the pack took him behind the barn and ended him.

But I couldn't just sit in my damp room and wait for dawn. The paper Sienna threw at me sat on my mattress.

The address. Emily’s house. My brain told me to burn it. My gut told me to go. If I was going to be shipped off to a king who might kill me, I wanted to leave with zero regrets. I wanted to make sure my heart was completely dead before I got on that carriage.

Around midnight, the house went quiet. I climbed out of the basement window. It was a tight squeeze, and the brick scraped my hip, but I managed.

I didn't have a car. I walked three miles down the dirt road to the highway and caught the midnight bus. The driver didn't even look at me when I dropped my last few coins into the slot. I sat in the back, watching my reflection in the greasy window. My face looked pale. My jaw looked too wide.

"Sturdy," I muttered. A nice way of saying big.

The bus dropped me off in the next town over. It was a fancy neighborhood. Big lawns. No trash on the streets. I found the house easily. It was a two-story place with a wrap-around porch and a neat garden.

A silver sports car was parked in the driveway. Tristan’s car.

My throat went dry. I walked up to the edge of the lawn, keeping close to the shadow of a large maple tree. The living room window was wide open to let in the cool night breeze. I could hear music. Soft, slow music.

I leaned against the tree trunk, my breath shallow.

Inside, Tristan was sitting on a plush white couch. He looked different here. In our pack house, he always looked tense, like he was waiting for his father to yell at him. Here, he looked relaxed. He was laughing.

A girl walked into the room holding two glasses of wine. She was thin, with blonde hair that fell perfectly down her back. She looked like the kind of girl who only ate salads and never had to scrub a floor in her life. Emily.

Tristan smiled. He took the glass, then pulled her down onto his lap. He didn't look like a guy whose heart was breaking because his girlfriend was being sent to a monster. He looked like a guy who had just won the lottery.

He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't a quick kiss. It was deep, comfortable, and full of plans.

A cold weight settled in my stomach. The pain didn't hit me in the chest. It hit me in the teeth. My jaw clenched so hard I felt a pop near my ear.

I wanted to run through the window. I wanted to tear that couch apart. Inside my mind, a heavy, dark shape clawed at my thoughts. The wolf. She wanted blood. She was tired of the basement.

No, I told her. Not yet.

I took a deep breath of the cold air. The anger didn't go away, but it got cold. It became a hard, solid ball of ice right behind my ribs.

I turned around and walked back to the bus stop.

By five in the morning, I was back in my basement.

My knuckles were dirty from the walk, and my boots were soaked with dew. I sat on the edge of the cot and waited.

At six, the door locked clicked. Two pack guards I’d known since I was a kid stood there. They didn't look me in the eye.

"Time to go, Serenity," the older one, Mark, said.

"I'm ready," I said. I picked up my small canvas bag.

They escorted me upstairs. The sun was barely up, painting the sky a dirty orange. A black carriage with heavy iron wheels was parked in the driveway. Two massive black horses stood in front of it, their breath coming out in thick white clouds.

Gideon and Vanessa stood on the porch. Sienna was right behind them, holding a cup of steaming tea. She gave me a little wave.

Tristan was nowhere to be seen. He was probably still asleep on that white couch, dreaming of his wedding.

"Remember your duty," Gideon said as I walked past the porch. His voice was loud, meant for the guards to hear. "You represent Moonlake Crest now. Do not embarrass us."

I stopped. I turned my head and looked at him. Really looked at him. He was getting old. His hair was graying, and he had a soft beer gut under his expensive leather jacket. He looked strong, but he was just a bully who hid behind his guards.

"I won't embarrass you, Alpha," I said, my voice clear in the quiet morning. "But I won't forget you either."

His eyes narrowed. He didn't like the tone. He took a step forward, but the carriage door opened, and a man in a heavy silver coat stepped out.

The Lycan King's envoy.

The man was tall, with pale skin and eyes that looked like yellow glass. He didn't look like a wolf. He looked like something older. Something that didn't care about pack politics.

"We are behind schedule," the envoy said. His voice was like stones grinding together. "Get in."

Gideon froze. He didn't want to argue with the King's man. He stepped back and nodded.

I didn't wait for anyone to help me. I grabbed the metal handle of the carriage, hauled my weight up, and stepped inside.

The door slammed shut behind me, and the lock turned with a heavy, metallic click.

It was dark inside. The air smelled like leather and old iron. Three other girls were already sitting on the bench across from me. They were all thin, dressed in expensive silk dresses that looked ridiculous for a long trip north. Their eyes were red and swollen. They’d been crying for hours.

I sat down on the empty bench. The leather creaked under me.

One of the girls, a pretty brunette with a silver pack mark on her collarbone, looked at my dirty boots and my oversized sweater. She sniffed.

"Are you the maid?" she asked, her voice shaking.

I leaned my back against the hard wooden wall of the carriage. The carriage jolted, and the wheels began to roll over the gravel. We were moving.

I looked at her. "No," I said. "I'm the tribute."