Chapter 5: Untamable
Chapter 5: Untamable
(Scarlett’s POV)
The warm, familiar scent of cinnamon and oak wrapped around me as I pushed open the sturdy wooden door of The Silver Moon tavern. The neutral
territory bar had always been a small escape–a place where pack politics didn’t loom over my head every second of the day.
I stepped inside, feeling the tension in my shoulders begin to loosen. At least just a little. The events of the day–the sheer venom of Grace’s theatrics
and Alexander’s overbearing arrogance–still burned beneath my skin, but for now, they could simmer in the background.
Emma was already waiting at our usual booth near the corner. Her dark green sweater made her pale skin seem even brighter under the warm glow
of the hanging lanterns. She had two glasses sitting on the table, one pushed to the edge, clearly meant for me.
She looked up as I walked over, her brows furrowing for just a second. Is that is that blood on your jacket?” she asked, her voice low but sharp, as
though she didn’t want anyone else in the tavern to hear.
I glanced down at my beige blazer and saw the faint dried stains near the sleeve. Grace’s nonsense in the courtyard had left traces, even more than!
had realized, I scoffed, brushing at the fabric as though it could help. “It’s not mine, I muttered, sliding into the booth across from her.
Emma tilted her head, her curiosity clear, but there was something else in her expression too–pride. Fierce and unwavering pride.
“You look surprisingly composed,” she said, a sly grin working its way onto her lips, for someone who just rejected the future Alpha King in front of half his pack.” She pushed the glass of amber liquid across the table toward me with a mischievous look.
I took the glass, letting the burn as I brought it to my lips chase away some of the lingering frustration. Sitting back against the worn leather of the
booth, I let a dark smile creep across my face, “Well,” I said slowly, allowing every word to drip with sarcasm, “when you’ve just publicly humiliated your
supposed mate and his pregnant mistress, what’s left to be upset about?”
Emma choked, nearly spilling her drink. She coughed into her hand, her body shaking slightly, but she recovered quickly. “Pregnant?” she hissed,
leaning in closer. “Are you serious? So it’s true?”
“Oh, she’s a delight,” I said airily, swirling my glass. The frail little angel of the Amber pack. Haven’t you heard? She practically floats when she walks.”
Emma snorted, an amused grin breaking through her genuinely furious expression. “Right. Tell that to the rogue attack she orchestrated three years
ago. I love how her wings only sprout when someone’s watching.”
“Don’t we all?” I replied darkly, placing the glass back on the table.
Emma’s expression sobered, her fists clenching on the table in front of her. “How did you stand it for this long? You should’ve walked out on him way
sooner.
My gaze drifted towards the faint light fixtures above. “Because it was never about him, not really. It was about politics, alliances, and obligations.
None of it ever had to do with… us. Because there was no us.” exhaled slowly. “But today was different. Today, I was done.”
Her voice softened slightly. “Good for you, she murmured, but the determined fire in her eyes didn’t fade.
“Enough about them,” I said, shaking off the heavy weight that conversation always seemed to bring. “You mentioned you needed herbs?”
Emma nodded quickly, finishing her drink before standing. “Absolutely. The market stalls
are still open.”
I followed, grateful for a reason to move, to keep my mind and body distracted. Anything to keep me from spiraling back into useless anger.
The cool evening air brought a welcome relief as we stopped into the open market district. The soft hum of life rang in the background–merchants shouting prices, foot traffic crunching on cobblestone, and faint bursts of laughter echoing from somewhere down the street.
“Good choice,” Emma said, glancing around approvingly. “We’d probably have gone mad if we stayed in that tavern. Or at least, you might’ve started smashing things.”
I smirked, my lips curving faintly, and allowed myself a small chuckle. “You give me ideas.”
We meandered through the marketplace. Stalls lined the streets, housing everything from ritual supplies to rare species of flowers. The mingling aromas of herbs, spices, and earthy oils filled the air.
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Chapter 5. Untamable
I let my gaze wander allowing myself to feel almost normal as I examined some dried Invender and sage bundles from one particular stall. Emma was doing her own shopping just a few feet away, muttering to herself as she examined jars of powdered roots.
My pocket buzzed.
I pulled out my phone to check the screen, already suspecting the sender. Sure enough–Sarah. She’s given up on pushing me via the mindlink and
Instead resorted to a string of messages.
Her words were sharp. Accusatory. “You’re being selfish” “Think of the pack. Think of Grace.” And of course. “You are jeopardizing everything we’ve
bult.
I tightened my grip on the phone, feeling my wolf stirring restlessly beneath the surface. This was no surprise. It was exactly what Sarah always did-
pressure, manipulate, and pretend her words came from a place of wisdom and authority.
But not this time.
I shoved the phone back into the pocket of my blazer, unwilling to waste another second reading her useless guilt trips.
At the counter, I pulled out the black card issued to me upon entering the Winters Pack. The vendor swiped it, but the terminal emitted an obnoxious
beep instead of the usual green approval light. Declined.
The sound pierced the air, louder in the moment than the surrounding market noise.
Emma’s sharp eyes snapped toward me, narrowing instantly. “What happened?” she asked, her tone already suspicious.
“They froze my account,” I said flatly, deliberately keeping my voice light.
Emma’s jaw dropped. “Senously? After everything they’ve done to you, now they’re making sure you can’t even spend your own damn money? That’s
sick. Her fists clenched at her sides.
“Typical Sarah,” was all I said, my tone dismissive. “This is nothing new
Picking up on my calm indifference, Emma quickly pulled out her own wallet and moved to pay for my things. “I’ve got it,” she insisted.
I placed a firm hand on hers, gently stopping her. “it’s fine, Emma, I don’t need their money.”
Before she could argue, I pulled out a different card. This one was sleek, obsidian black, with a mark on the corner that gleamed faintly under the soft light. The crest of the Shadow Clan.
The vendor swiped it without question, and this time the machine glowed green in approval. Emma stared at the card for a moment before lifting her
gaze to meet mine.
Her lips parted slightly in quiet shock, her eyes flickering with realization. That crest…” she began, her voice hesitant. Isn’t that…”
“it’s nothing,” I said softly but firmly, tucking the card away before anyone else could glimpse it. I gave her a look that silenced any further questions.
For now
Emma nodded once, her expression respectful even as her curiosity pulsed visibly beneath the surface.
By the time I reached my private residence near the border, my mood was finally beginning to level out. The drive had been calming, and the cool night air helped ease some of the edges of my earlier fury.
But the moment I pulled into the driveway all that ease evaporated like mist under a rising sun
Alexander was there, waiting.
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