Auctioned Mates Revenge
Chapter 42

The drive back from the mall was quiet. Matt had seemed a bit upset about the way the argument turned out, but he hadn't let it show much. We'd gone from dress shopping to picking up new shoes, a tuxedo for Matt, jewelry, and finally a beauty supply store as I didn't like other people doing my hair. It reminded me too much of being primped and polished for clients back at Larry's. Grace seemed grateful that she wouldn't have to sit in a salon chair either and he browsed the shelves quietly. I picked up some new dye, including a bright magenta color when I saw a familiar line of nail polishes near the back of the store.

I didn't think they were still being made three years after the fall of my pack. Everlasting was the only brand Fluorite sold gem dust and pigments used for nail polish to before it fell. I picked up a bottle of my favorite shade and checked the label. "Ah, you have an eye for quality," one of the attendants said, gliding towards me. "I think that's the last of it. I don't think Warhammer has managed to get the lads up and running the way they had been so Everlasting went out of business instead of changing the formula."

I nodded. The C.E.O. and owner of Everlasting, Dianne Beverly, wasn't the kind to negotiate on quality. I remembered meeting her once and thinking I'd want to be like her one day. I remembered her being incredibly kind despite her cold appearance. I wonder what happened to her. Had she been bought out or had she retired with her color recipes? If we met again, would she remember me?

"Everlasting is the best," I said and picked up a bottle of my mother's favorite shade, then Angelia's and a few others, including Zoe's. By the time I was done, I had a different color for every girl I had known in my childhood.

Grace looked at the little collection of nail polish and smiled at me. We checked out and met Matt outside the store as he was finishing up a call before heading back to the hotel. He escorted us up to the hotel, telling us that he had to meet someone at Club Heaven regarding a supplies deal, and left.

Sinner's Haven's casino night opening was a few days away so we had some time. Matt had already sent out gowns to the cleaners. I set my heels and jewelry inside of my closet before coming back out and replaceing Grace in the kitchen cooking.

It was strange to see her doing something so normal. She cooked like my mom would cook in the afternoons for lunch. She glanced up at me.

"Do you like pasta?" She asked.

"I... I've never had it."

Her eyes widened, "You poor soul. There are few simpler joys than a good bowl of pasta."

I laughed and sat down, "My dad would say that about beans and rice."

Her head tilted, "You're... from farther south than he thinks, aren't you?"

I remained quiet, not answering for a moment, "I don't know where he thinks I'm from."

Grace nodded, "I'm from Frost Pelt. Do you know where that is?"

I frowned, thinking about it. Matt had written it on the list, but he hadn't put it on the map.

"I don't," I said. "I... What did you make?"

Her lips twitched, "The finest wolfsbane whiskey in the world."

I tilted my head. My father would drink whiskey. I couldn't remember exactly what it was called.

"Something about Ice?" I asked and her eyes lit up.

"Blue Ice," she said. "The only whiskey bottled in hand-blown glass bottles."

I nodded. That sounded familiar.

"I take it... Frost Pelt fell?"

Her eyes turned dark, "You... could say that."

I lowered my gaze, "Would you tell me what happened?"

"Well, it wasn't a plague," I flinched as our gazes met. Did she know? Why else would she mention a plague if she didn't? Maybe Frost Pelt was said to have fallen because of a plague. "The rumors called it a winter vortex. I suppose it's nicer than calling it an ambush."

Her eyes turned distant, "They didn't kill everyone, just the ones who resisted. We were a small pack."

I pulled out my phone and her eyes widened as she looked at it.

"What?"

"You have a phone."

I frowned and nodded, "Yes."

"You didn't have that back at Club Heaven."

I shook my head. I didn't have the freedom to get one or the money. I didn't even know how to use a smartphone until about a year ago. When I was a streetwalker at Midnight, they assigned me a watcher who was in charge of making sure I didn't escape. Then, they kept me inside until they sold me to Larry's. "My handler at Larry's gave it to me," I smirked, "I started as a walker."

Trista either hadn't known or hadn't cared how often I'd run away at Club Heaven, but she didn't have to care. There were designated strips for me to walk and they were always watched. I was taken to and from the area every day. There had been no chance for me to run and I had no reason to. Running wouldn't get me what I wanted.

She grimaced, "I figured you had. Felix drank a lot the day he sold you saying that the price had more than covered all the trouble you'd caused."

I grinned at her defiantly, "I bet he didn't think the same when he saw me."

She laughed, "No. Probably not."

I dropped my gaze to the phone, "I could teach you to use one. Maybe we could look up what they say happened to your pack?"

Her eyes brightened and she placed the tops on the pots before rounding the table and slipping into the seat beside me.

I walked her through the basics of how to unlock my phone, make calls, send text messages, and navigate the browser. I typed in Frost Pelt and handed her the phone, so she could see it for herself.

Her eyes glimmered with tears and she set the phone down. I peeked to look at the coverage. Frost Pelt had been declared a fallen pack, but the people they had recovered had been annexed into another pack called Frost Melt. They'd taken over Blue Ice wolfsbane, though Frost Pelt workers still produced the whiskey.

I wondered if she knew anyone who might be alive.

Thinking of Matt's map, I went to get some paper so we could do some searching ourselves. There was no reason to let Matt do all the work.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking up the pack registration," I told her. "Every pack is registered and every pack's government has to make a profile with the Interpack authorities as a public record."

She nodded, "I remember the alpha's daughter talking about taking a picture. She was acting luna after her mother died."

I looked at her, "Do you think she might be alive?"

Grace shuddered, "No."

The coldness in her voice told me everything I needed to know.

I looked up Frost Pelt's profile, taking note of the names and faces of the government, the alpha, and luna. The young woman was a brunette with hard brown eyes like her father's. When I went to Frost Melt, none of the names were the same and neither were any of the photos.

Frost Melt was one of the few packs run by a female alpha. This woman had a husband, but as the werewolf community refused to bestow the title of luna onto a man, he was simply called her second-in-command. They hadn't been proclaimed to be mates, but Alpha Teagan O'Brian was a tall, willowy woman with white-blonde hair and brown eyes. She looked nice enough and seemed to nearly blend in with the surroundings in her pure white coat and hat.

She was the only woman in the photo, but it was clear that the men around her respected her. To her left was her second-in-command, Steven Callahan. He didn't even have an arm around her as he looked stoically into the camera.

To her right was her deputy of exports. It was an odd place for him to be. Typically, the right side would be where the head of pack security would be. He was a solemn-looking man who didn't even look at the camera. His eyes were the same shade of blue as Grace's, though his hair was an inky black. His eyes looked tired and puffy as if he'd been crying before the photo was taken.

The photo said his name was Gordon Zima, he was the deputy of exports. He wore a fur-collared cloak of black. He looked to be grieving. "Grace," I said, drawing her attention, "Do you know this man?"

She gasped, leaning closer and taking the photo. She shook her head. The tears streamed down her face in thick tears as she sobbed. "No," she gasped. "This can't be right."

"What is it?"

"My father is dead."