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Yeah. Trista wiggled and settled into a comfortable position. I don t know why she can t just
let us go already. Not that they had the money to leave, but whatever. She sighed and glanced at her
watch again. Only a minute had passed. Crap. How long do we have to sit here?
Another eleven minutes.
She sighed again and watched the animals down the street watching them. They drooled on the
asphalt. Gross. Then she remembered why they were drooling they were looking forward to making
them dinner. Even grosser. And scary as hell.
Finally the wait was over and her mom popped the car into gear. She pulled onto the street and
they approached the city s border. The hyenas quit their pacing, but kept on with their drooling. Ick.
As they passed the three people, the human guy pointed his gun at them and the two hyenas
jumped and scratched the side of their car.
She wondered if she was gonna die now, if Mr. Scott s order had died along with him. Instead of
cowering and showing fear like she had when she was little, she stared the man in the eye, kept her
attention right on him. They moved forward and she remained focused on him, not breaking his gaze
as they passed.
He flinched first and dropped his eyes.
Score one for her.
You shouldn t antagonize them like that. Her mom s voice was half censuring and half prideful.
Trista focused on the pride and shrugged. Not my fault he s weak.
Her mom hummed, but didn t say anything else. Not while they finished their drive, nor when she
pulled into a parking spot at the cemetery.
Trista stepped from the car, only her mom& did not. She bent down and caught her mother s
attention. Ma, you coming?
She shook her head. No, this is something for you alone.
Mom, she whined.
They re your people, Trista. You need to go and pay your respects. I m not allowed there.
But what if& What if Mr. Scott s order really did die with him?
Her mom shook her head. No, Mrs. Scott may not like you
Trista snorted, but her mom continued.
but she will follow the law.
What about Heath? She spat the guy s name.
She d call him a man, but he was hardly eighteen and still pimply-faced. God, did the guy ever
shower? Shifters were supposed to be all heal-y and stuff and yet the kid ended up with more pimples
than stars in the sky. She really felt bad for the pack. Mr. Scott was a jerk, but Heath was an asshole.
Too bad the hyenas didn t make the heirs wait until they hit twenty-five to take over the reins. Not like
the bears.
Heath knows the law. Otherwise the men at the border would have stopped us. In mom-speak,
stopped meant killed. As if Trista didn t know.
Trista turned her attention to the gathering of people on the other side of the graveyard. The
hyena shifter graveyard. She had no doubt the individuals milling about were other hyenas, and any
minute now they d catch her scent.
In three, two, one&
It was like they were one person. All heads turned toward her, everyone s eyes suddenly glowing
copper.
Panic assaulted her, burrowing into her heart, and she very, very much wanted to cry. And run.
The animal part of her rumbled its objection. It begged to stay and fight and demand their due. She
didn t think they were due anything other than their lives once this was over.
Trista. Her mom s firm voice pulled her away from the men and women who wouldn t mind
seeing her dead and gone.
Yeah? She gulped.
You ll be fine. She shook her head and her mom spoke again. You will. Mrs. Scott may not
like you, understatement of the century, but she and Heath know better than to do anything. Harming
you will bring down their Southeast Alpha and they don t want that.
No, no one wanted one of the territory leaders hanging around. Least of all that one.
Now, go pay your respects and then come back. We ve got a few hours to kill. We ll head over
to the falls.
The falls. She d always loved the sound of rushing water, even if her animal thing in her head
hated it.
K. She took a deep breath and fought for calm. Heading into a group of blood-thirsty shifters
while scared out of her mind was not a good idea. With a jerky nod, she stepped back and pushed the
door closed. She didn t know why she was surprised that her mom wasn t coming along. From the
moment Trista was born, Mr. Scott told her Mom she wasn t welcome at pack gatherings. Trista and
Trista alone. Never a human.
Even if she d been banged by a furball at some point.
Okay, ew, no thinking about Mom and sex. Ever.
Rubbing her hands on her jeans, she made her way toward the group, ignoring the sneers, growls,
hisses, and high-pitched cackling laughs that chased her. Those laughs& They scared the shit out of
her while also poking her animal. Trista couldn t shift, couldn t even get slightly furry, but she sure
could make the screeching sounds.
She swallowed them now, pulled them deep into herself. No sense in antagonizing the people
who could kill her without blinking.
They hated her, but still stepped aside as she approached, making a path straight to the gravesite.
Mr. Scott s casket remained perched above the hole, waiting to be lowered into the ground. She
wondered if someone would throw a rose in after he d been put down there. Or toss a handful of dirt
on top like they did in the movies.
Tired of rubbing her sweaty palms on her jeans, she tucked them into her pockets. No sense in
showing how nervous they made her.
Eventually Mrs. Scott and Heath were revealed. Mrs. Scott sat straight-backed in a fold-out chair
while Heath stood directly behind her. Both of them were focused on Trista, their eyes the orange-
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