I come round the corner with my sleeve pulled down over the purple, and Trudie has me before I get two steps.
Trudie: There you are, you sneaky little shit.
Trudie: Think you can hide behind the hall and I won't hear about it?
Trudie: Good. The pack's still inside. They can fucking hear this too.
My arm goes numb in her fist, and the wrist under my wool is still screaming from the last hand that grabbed it.
I could tell them. One breath and the whole hall would know what their Alpha did.
Except I remember what he said he'd do to me if I opened my mouth.
She drags me through the door and the hall goes quiet in pieces, bench by bench, like a fire getting put out.
Trudie: Look at her! Go on, all of you, have a good look!
Trudie: This one's been crawling after the Alpha all night.
Trudie: A useless burden with a busted lip, and she thinks she can get her claws into him.
Coburn: She's been on her knees for his brat all night, Ma. Maybe that's her way in.
Coburn: She'd spread for anything with a cock and a bit of coin, that one.
The laughing hits me in the face like hot water, and my ears go so red they throb.
Trudie: What's this, then? Four fingers on your arm?
She wrenches my sleeve up and holds my arm out to the whole hall like a fish she's proud of catching.
Trudie: Somebody already had a go at you. Who? Don't you fucking lie to me, girl.
I don't say a fucking word.
My wolf is flat against my ribs with her teeth out, and I keep my mouth shut, because I know exactly what happens when I don't.
Trudie: You had a man's hands on you and you come back here smirking.
She slams me into the post and my lip splits open again on my own teeth, warm and salty on my tongue.
Trudie: You're a cheap little bitch and every wolf here can smell it.
Trudie: One more word out of you tonight and it's the cellar. No food, no blanket, door locked from the outside.
Trudie: And when I let you out, Coburn and his boys can have what's left.
Coburn: Let me and the lads have her for a night, Ma. That'll teach her where she belongs.
Trudie: Don't tempt me.
I believe her. That's the worst part. She's locked me in that cellar before and not one soul in this hall said a thing about it.
From Kester's side: his wolf is up under his skin, snarling at every hand that goes near her, and he hates it.
He knows what a bond does to a man. He watched it take Tove apart piece by piece, and he will not stand in this hall and let it happen twice.
Kester: Trudie. That's enough.
Every head in the hall swings to him, and for one stupid heartbeat I think he's going to say the thing I've been hoping for since the crates.
Kester: Take her home and keep her out of my hall. She's your problem, not mine.
Not one look. Not one word to me. Just my name in Trudie's mouth and me in the middle of the floor like something that crawled out of the river.
Pella is on her feet by the door, fists shut, and Fergus has a hand on her arm holding her back.
She shakes her head at me like she's sorry. I can't look at her. If I look at her I'll cry, and I am not giving them that.
Trudie: You hear that? Not his problem. Not one soul's problem but mine.
Trudie: And I'll get my money's worth out of you one way or another, don't you worry.
I don't say one word the whole way out. Not to Trudie, not to the pack, not to him.
But at the door I look back, and he is watching me leave, and he doesn't call me back.
My wolf howls his name in my chest the whole walk home, and I hate her for it, because she still thinks he's ours.