Chloe lay in bed, tangled in the sheets, exhausted from sobbing. “You told him,” she said to herself, her voice rough and broken from crying, “you said ‘you’re not stuck with me, you know, if you don’t want to be.’ And he left. So why are you surprised?” She reached out for a tissue and blew her nose noisily.

He’s getting on with his life, Ben had said. And he hadn’t even had the balls to tell her himself, to break it to her in person. He just disappeared. Maybe they forbade him to talk to you, a quiet voice said, but she ignored it. No. He would have found a way. She deserved at least that much.

“Fine then,” she said to herself, emerging from her cocoon. “I’ll get on with mine.” She took a shower, scrubbing herself clean, washing the sticky, salt tears from her face. She dressed in a black halter top and red denim jeans. She ran some shine wax through her hair; she was really taking a liking to the shorter style, since she had the stylist clean it up a bit. She lined her eyes in dark gray pencil, applied shimmer to her shoulders, glossed her lips. She wouldn’t have to dance on tables to get attention tonight.

Chloe shrugged on her black suede jacket, lined with dark gray fleece, and draped her scarf around her neck. It was a fluffy one, made of eyelash yarn, and looked like a bright red feather boa. It would catch someone’s eye.

The air was a bit chilly, with a light breeze; she had heard people at the bar grumbling about the lack of snow for skiing, predicting another disappointingly mild winter. There was a line outside of The Tankard; a few girls in short skirts shivered, huddled in groups. She turned the other way, walked down the sidewalk past other lines outside of various watering holes, until she reached Bumpin’. It was one of the more popular clubs, always busy, hence the name. The Maenad went there on slow nights, but the stiffer competition kept all but the most challenge-seeking away. From what Chloe could see through the windows, the place was packed indeed; there didn’t seem to be room for one more person on the dance floor.

Chloe hadn’t been to the club since before she met Angelo. It was louder than she remembered, even in the lobby. A police officer nodded to her. She was about to walk into the bar when the bouncer threw out an arm and stopped her. She stopped short, and someone bumped her from behind. “Sorry,” she said, without looking.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’m sorry,” said a man’s voice behind her. The bouncer held out his hand. Chloe shook her head and got out her ID. It had been a while. The bouncer squinted at it for a moment, then handed it back to Chloe. “Enjoy the night,” he shouted above the music.

“Thanks,” she replied with a charming smile, and stepped through. Immediately an arm went around her, and she stiffened up.

“Hey girl, want a drink?” the guy said, the same voice of the man who bumped into her a moment ago. She looked up into a pair of brown eyes and the slightly drooping grin of the already-intoxicated. He was cute enough, in a mass-produced sort of way. He could have been one of the less-attractive guys in the background of an Abercrombie and Fitch tableau, playing rugby while his long-haired, slightly feminine-looking pal smooched a half-clad, underage girl in the foreground. “C’mon, don’t be shy! What’s your name?”
“Chloe,” she said.

“Chloe,” he replied, as though tasting it. “I’m Todd.” He held out his right hand to shake, his left still lightly around her shoulders. “How about that drink?”

“Sure, why not?” she agreed, and let him lead her toward the bar. She hadn’t lost her touch, after all. I didn’t even make it to the bar, she thought, impressed with herself.

The bartender handed Todd a drink. He took a sip, then handed it to Chloe. “Give that a try, see what you think,” he said. She tried it. It was sweet and sour, and tasted like Sweet Tarts.

“That’s good, what is that?” she asked, though she knew a Midori Sour when she tasted one. She also knew how much they burned coming back up, if she had more than one or two.

“A Midori Sour. You want one?”

Chloe nodded, and Todd smiled, whitened teeth gleaming against his olive skin, “You can keep that one. I’ll get another.” He leaned over to talk to the bartender again. Chloe cast a look around. She didn’t recognize any of the girls as Maenad. Good. The last thing she needed was to have something dumped over her head.

She looked over, innocently. Todd smiled. She smiled back, and sipped on her drink.

“So, do you go to school here?” Todd asked.

“Yes. I’m majoring in business management,” Chloe replied. “What about you?”

“Undeclared. Well, I’m not majoring in undeclared but I wish I could, yknow?” He took a large swallow of his drink. “I haven’t seen you in here before,” he said.

“Oh, I haven’t been in a while. I don’t get out as much as I used to,” she explained.

“Are you here by yourself?”

“Pretty much.”

“Good,” he said, putting his arm around her again. “Maybe we can spend some time together.” He pulled her closer, leaned his face in as though about to tell her a secret. “I know this great spot, off Cemetery Rd, up this hill where there used to be an old hotel back in the 1800s. You can see all the way to the seacoast on a clear night. No one goes up there.” She knew what he was insinuating. He rubbed her shoulder with his fingertips. His breath was sour and fruity. The speech was clear enough, though slightly slurred. Chloe wondered how long he had been there, before she showed up. “Well?”

Chloe smiled and shrugged, being coy. “Maybe,” she allowed.

“Just maybe?”

“Well these boots aren’t exactly made for walking,” she said. “My feet already hurt a little.”

“Well sit down then, rest yourself,” Todd said, pulling out one of the few empty chairs at the packed bar. His hand brushed her behind as he took his arm off her shoulder, but didn’t linger. Chloe hopped up onto the seat, and Todd rested his arm on the back of it. “I have a car, we can drive up.”

“Really? What kind of car?”

He made a face. “Some old Mustang of my dad’s. I have a Lexus, yknow. Leather interior, bumpin’ sound system, heated seats, convertible. Beautiful. Dad wouldn’t let me take it to school. He said he wasn’t going to let me park a $67,000 car on some ass-end-of-nowhere parking lot at school and let it rot in the weather and get jacked.” He continued to complain about his father, how the old man wanted him to work for his company though Todd wanted to start his own business with his buddy, Pat. He never got around to saying what kind of business his father had, or what kind of business he wanted to start. Chloe just listened, nodded appropriately, giggled on cue. She knew the most attractive thing she could do right now was shut up and let him do the talking.

--

Veronica looked over her shoulder and smiled at Angelo as she twisted the key in the lock. Her eyes were bright and she looked excited, as though he was her lover and they were finally getting to spend some time in bed together. Of course he could smell that that was already taken care of; besides the flush in her cheeks, Benjamin’s scent was all over her and she reeked of sex besides.

Under her arm was a little bag of dry dog food. The collar and leash were in her hand. “I got you a treat,” she purred, and nudged the bowl over with her toe. She turned away from Angelo to open the bag. He knelt on the edge of the bed and leaned over. With one smooth motion, he slid the cuff chain over her head and pulled the chain tight around her neck, so fast that by the time Veronica thought to squeal, only a squeak came out.

She kicked, hard, driving her stiletto heel into his leg. He grunted in pain but pulled tighter. She scrabbled at the chain, breaking her long nails, gouging her own throat. Angelo twisted his arms, pushing his wrists toward each other, feeling the metal edges cut into his flesh. The wounds stung like he had thrown vinegar on them; it was the effect of the silver. He hung on as Veronica’s thrashing slowed, her choking wheezes cutting off. Angelo heard a crunch and wondered if it was her neck or his wrists. He released his hold. Veronica’s body dropped to the floor with a thump.

Angelo found the bobby pin and jimmied his cuffs open with it. The door key was on the floor; he slowly unlocked the door, forcing himself to move smoothly despite his rushing adrenaline. He opened it a crack, and his heart almost stopped; sitting on the couch, his face bathed in the light of the television, was one of the pack members, the one whose turn it was to guard him. He was asleep, head tilted back and mouth open slightly.

Angelo darted past as quietly as he could, and opened the door to the apartment. The hallway was bare in both directions. He couldn’t hear anyone coming. Slipping out into the hallway, he dashed to the stairwell, down the stairs, and into the night, startling a couple strolling along the sidewalk. The night air stung his bare arms; he was only wearing a t-shirt. Almost immediately, he began to shiver. He set off for the apartment at a run.

When Angelo got there, he found the door was locked. He pried up the loose edge of the threshold and found the extra key wedged under it. He unlocked the door. Chloe wasn’t in. Her jacket and a pair of her boots were missing, and her makeup kit was open on the toilet lid. He cleaned his wounds and bandaged them with some gauze from the medicine cabinet and went to the bedroom to pull on a sweatshirt. Then he started to pack, clothing and toiletries, as much of his things as he could fit into a duffel. It was only a matter of time before someone went to find out what was taking Veronica so long, and found he was gone. Then they would come looking for him.

Where would he go? He had no idea. But he knew one thing: he had to talk to Chloe first.

Angelo sat on the bed and waited. Maybe she was working downstairs; he didn’t want to go down there, run into any pack members that may be hanging around. And he definitely didn’t want to have to answer any of Bud’s questions or anyone else’s. Maybe she was out “whoring around,” as Gregory said. He could have found her. He could have hunted her down. He was exhausted. He lay back and closed his eyes. It was good to be back in his own bed again, with sheets that smelled of her. Her and no one else. Maybe she goes back to their places. Doesn’t want blood stains here, he thought, feeling a spike of anger as he sank under the surface of consciousness.

--

He followed her scent from club to club, to a dorm room stinking of blood and liquor, sex and fear. He wrenched the door open to find her there, passed out on one of her victims, her face smeared with red. Another lay against the wall, throat torn out, an expression of terror frozen on his face. The roommate, Angelo guessed, who walked in on them.

Chloe was naked, blood-smeared. It was everywhere, overwhelming his sinuses like the rage overwhelmed him. He grabbed her, shook her awake. “Whore!” he screamed at her. She only laughed. “You’re mine, damn you!” She kept laughing even as he undid his belt, only ceasing when he tangled his hand in her hair and wrenched her around, over the edge of the bed, face-down in the soaked mattress. She screamed, she cried. He shoved himself into her so hard it hurt him too. Chloe clawed at the sheets, tearing them off the mattress in her panic. “Bitch! I’ll teach you,” Angelo howled, thrusting into her, feeling her tear inside.

When he was done, her cries had quieted to sobs and groans. He released her, a handful of blonde hair dropping from his fingers, and she lay limp, back convulsing in sobs. Angelo pulled his pants back on, and turned to leave.

--

Chloe was losing her taste for the game. If only it had been like this. I could have torn this guy up, or another like him, met Angelo later. If only I had met this one first. The thought made her throat tighten, so she pushed it away with a gulp of her drink.

“Hey, you need another,” Todd said, clanking his glass against hers.

“I still have two thirds left,” she protested. Already it was getting hard to swallow. She was out of practice drinking too. The acidic sourness burned the back of her throat. But Todd was already pushing another drink into her other hand. She set it on the bar; no way was she going to drink it, but she didn’t want to tell him that.

“I dunno about this bartender,” he said, leaning in close and confidential again, letting his lips brush her ear. “Before you came in, she had my drink there and was waiting for me to notice. She said, ‘You know I have a holding fee.’ So I tell her, ‘Oh, well I deduct that out of the tip.’” He laughed, and Chloe forced herself to join in. “I always tip fifty percent,” he bragged, “’cause they deserve it, if the service is good. If not, a penny. Fuck ‘em.” He started off again about all the waitresses and waiters who he’d been served by, how much of a cheap asshole his father was.

Chloe sat there, taking miniscule sips of her drink and wanting to run away. She didn’t want to go to the trouble of killing this guy. True, she wished she could throttle him here and now, but any more of this playacting would drive her insane. There was a door to the alley out back, by the dumpster, marked “employees only.” It was right down the hall from the women’s bathrooms, out of Todd’s range of sight. She could make her escape there. “So,” he said, “you gonna finish up that drink so we can take our ride?”

“I don’t know about you driving. How many have you had?” Chloe asked.

Todd waved his hand dismissively. “All right then, forget about it. My car’s parked way out in the ass-end-of-nowhere parking lot anyway. Probably getting jacked. It’d serve my father right, the prick,” he picked up the drink she had set down and took a gulp of it. “Why let it go to waste, eh?” he said. “Tell you what though,” he said, pulling her close again to breathe into her ear. “My roommates are all out of state for the weekend for a rugby match. Come on back there with me and party with me. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”

She smiled saucily. “I’ll be right back. I should use the ladies’ before we go.”

Todd gave her a look. “You’re not coming back, are you?” he accused.

Chloe scoffed and looked offended. “Of course I’m coming back,” she said brightly, shaking her head as though Todd was so silly. She unwound her scarf from her neck. “Here,” she said, “hang on to this for me. My mother knitted it for me; I won’t leave without it.” Chloe got up, running her hand along Todd’s shoulder as she passed him. He watched her go, clutching her scarf.

Chloe went around the corner where the restrooms were, passed by the short line of women waiting, and slipped out the back. Glancing around, she trotted down the alley, and slid out onto the sidewalk, making for the apartment. She would miss that scarf, but she could just buy another one next time she went to the mall.

She couldn’t do it. He was innocent, and though he was annoying, he didn’t deserve to die. “This shit sucks,” Chloe said under her breath to herself. Her neck was bare to the breeze, which had picked up into a wind. After the stifling heat of the club, it was freezing. She couldn’t have Angelo, and her chances for finding love elsewhere seemed slim. She couldn’t fool herself into thinking that getting some man wrapped up in her life wouldn’t injure him somehow. Besides, even if Angelo was back with the pack, she knew how possessive he could be. He harassed the guys in the bar who hit on her as she waitressed. Even if he couldn’t have her, she would still be his, in his mind. It was too dangerous.

“I guess I’ll have to be alone.”

Her eyes stung; she didn’t look up and notice that the light was on in the apartment window. Her fingers were numb, and she fumbled the key into the lock of the main door, let herself into the stairwell, and began the trudge upward.

--

The sound of a key trying a lock jolted Angelo awake. He sat bolt upright, panting, horrified at his dream but relieved that it wasn’t real.

He heard Chloe in the other room, putting down her purse and sighing. He smelled only her, heard no other voice. She was alone. His heart was punching him in the breastbone. Should he say something? Call out to her?

Chloe walked in, clean, tarted up but not covered in blood. She started when she saw him, then affected disinterest. “Oh,” she said, voice bored but eyes still wide. “Come to get your things, then?” Her eyes drifted to his half-packed duffel bag.

Angelo admitted he had expected more of a welcome, but he had disappeared without explanation. His nostrils flared. “You have someone’s smell all over you,” he muttered. But not sex. That he could tell. But someone’s hands were all over her. All over his mate. His fingers curled into the blanket beneath him.

He thought of the dream, and forced his hands to unclench. Suddenly he was terrified of himself. It was just a dream, you would never do that to her, he told himself, chanted it in his head.

“What do you care? You left me.” She started taking her jewelry off, putting it away, as she used to every night when they got home. Outwardly, it was as though no time had passed. They had just gotten in, she was taking off her jewelry, him sitting on the bed. “Does your pack know you’re here? Did you finally get the balls to tell me yourself?”

“Tell you what?” Angelo demanded.

Chloe stopped, turned to face him, leaning on her hands on the edge of the dresser. “That you made a deal and got back in. You could have at least told me, you know. I was worried fucking sick about you!”

Angelo shook his head. “Wait, who told you I was back with the pack?”

Chloe shrugged, turned back to the dresser and removed an earring. “Some guy named Ben. He came into the bar, stiffed me on a few drinks to boot. He said you made a deal with the Alpha.”

“And you believed him?”

“What else was I supposed to believe, Angelo?” she cried, turning back to him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her gray eyeliner smudged. “You left when we were fighting, you said I was better off without you, you’re gone for weeks without word, and then this… sleazy asshole tells me you went crawling back to the pack. That’s all I knew.” She turned back to the dresser, dragging the back of her hand across her eyes.

“Chloe, I couldn’t send word because they kidnapped me,” he explained. “Ben found me. He thought he’d offer me to Gregory, as a peace offering for letting us go after you killed Joshua.” Angelo rested his hands in his lap. “He kept me chained up in silver, in my old room.” Chloe looked back, over her shoulder. Her eyes widened at the sight of his wrists, the blood staining through his bandages.

“What happened to you?” she exclaimed, coming over and gingerly taking one of his hands.

“I used my cuffs and strangled Veronica,” he said. “I got a little cut up.”

“Veronica?” Chloe gasped. “I was talking to Rhonda, the night you… ran off. She told me Veronica had a new boyfriend, one no one had actually seen.”

“Benjamin,” Angelo growled. “She put a choke collar on me, fed me dog food, treated me like a naughty puppy.” His hands clenched into fists.

Chloe spat. “Bitch got what she deserved.

“I found one of your bobby pins from that night, remember?” Angelo asked.

Chloe gave him a little smile. “Yeah, I remember.” She sat next to him, leaning her body into his.

“I picked the locks on the cuffs with it, and got out.” He stood suddenly. “I don’t have much time. I have to get out of here.”

“Why?”

He looked at her, exasperated. “Do you really think they’ll let me go now? They’ll hunt me down if I stay here. I have to leave.”

“But where will you go?” Chloe asked, scrambling to her feet.

Angelo shook his head. “I have no idea. But I’ve pretty much screwed up with school. I have no way to explain my absence that anyone will believe. So there’s nothing keeping me here anyway.”

Chloe’s face fell. “Nothing?” she said quietly.

Angelo glared at her. “I come back and find you’ve been—“

“—Trying to get on with my life. Like I thought you had,” Chloe said softly, her words dropping like lead weights.

“So quick to try and replace me,” Angelo spat, clutching his anger like a talisman.

“I couldn’t,” Chloe said. “I was angry, I was depressed and lonely and abandoned. But I couldn’t do it. I probably would never have been able to,” she admitted, sitting down back on the bed. Angelo didn’t look at her. She went on, “I thought I’d seduce some idiot guy, drench myself in his blood, give in to what I was supposed to be. But I couldn’t. I came back. To be alone.”

“Did you even miss me?” he asked, faintly, looking her in the face.

Chloe’s eyes were wet. “Of course I did!” she exclaimed. “Angelo, I love you!”

His anger melted away as she threw her arms around him. “Good,” Angelo said, “because you should probably come with me. They’re not going to let you be, especially if I’ve slipped away from them. Chloe,” he said, when she hesitated, “you don’t have to run with me, but you have to run. Can you go hide out with your family? With Rhonda? Anywhere?”

Chloe shook her head. “I’m banished. I have no one. Except you.”

“Pack your stuff,” he urged, helping her up. “We have to get out of here.”

It took only ten minutes, but they were ready. They hit the street and started walking, away from the direction of the pack’s apartment house, towards campus. “They’ll have found her by now. We have to hurry,” Angelo said, his breath smoking in the frigid air. “We have the cash we saved up. I guess we can take a bus somewhere.”

“The ass-end-of-nowhere parking lot. A Mustang convertible. Soft top. You could cut the damn thing open with a knife like it was a tin can,” Chloe said with a chuckle. “Angelo,” she asked, looking up at him, “You sure figured out quickly how to pick a lock with a bobby pin. Do you by any chance know how to jack a car?”

end