Chapter 4 FOUR

EMILIA'S POV

When she came to again, Emilia felt a cool breeze caress her face. She groaned and opened her eyes slowly, then looked around.

The car seemed to have stopped, but the environment was very unfamiliar to her. She could see a wide stretch of grass on both sides of the car, but that was all. The banging headache behind her eyes didn't make her see any more than that.

She groaned again and moved her sore arms and legs, then her stiff neck next. Her eyes burned: the effect of being knocked out for so many hours.

She turned to her side to find three very terrified-looking faces staring at her. Her kids were still beside her in the car, and Ruby her youngest daughter was sobbing.

"Mommy!" She wailed as Emilia turned and she pulled her kids to herself, murmuring words of comfort to them. Soon she begab to feel a cold hatred spread through her chest.

Raymond. That slimy bastard!

"It's okay, it's okay." She whispered to her children while trying to take stock of her surroundings. The chauffeur was nowhere to be found now. He had left them in the car to do God knows what. She peered out of the open window by her side: in the darkness she couldn't see much, only the outline of a very big Victorian house.

A very big and familiar-looking Victorian house.

Then realisation slowly dawned on Emilia. She knew exactly where she was: In Raymond's pack, several miles from Chicago.

She stifled a snarl and let go of her children. "Stay in the car." She commanded, then opened the door and stepped out.

Immediately she did, her legs began to wobble like thin sticks of jelly, and she held on to the car door for support. "Shit!" She cursed under her breath, waiting for the wave of vertigo to slowly pass. When it did, she let go of the car door and took a step forward, but stumbled again.

By all the power of the Moon Goddess, she thought. That chauffeur would pay for this, and Raymond would pay even more.

Emilia thought she probably looked ridiculous right now, trying to walk and failing woefully, wobbling like a dizzy duck. She stood for a moment and looked around: there were wide expanses of lawn on both sides of the car and nothing else. The narrow strip of road the car had been parked on was graced by Sycamore trees along it, and just before her was the big Victorian house.

She could see three people standing there. The chauffeur, an elderly woman, and him.

Raymond. The man who had caused all this.

Her best friend.

Hot rage propelled her forward and she walked towards them, trying to stay stable on her feet. They really did feel like thin strips of jelly.

The chauffeur saw her first and fell silent. Then the elderly woman turned, then tapped the alpha on the shoulder. The chauffeur made a move first: he clambered down the staircase that graced the front of the house and walked forward to meet Emilia.

"Miss," he said. "Miss, if you would just calm down–"

"Oh, you have no right to talk to me!" She growled through gritted teeth. "I'd like to meet your boss."

The chauffeur blocked her way with outstretched arms, trying to pacify her. Emilia growled like a wounded animal.

"I swear by the Moon Goddess, I'll tear you apart if you don't move away right now."

"Miss, calm down–" He started to say again but she pushed him roughly aside and walked towards the staircase. At least she didn't fall flat on her face while doing that.

Emilia could feel hair creeping up her arms and face, and knew that she would morph soon if she didn't control herself. But she didn't want control. She wanted Raymond to pay for everything he had made her go through during the past six years. He had ruined her past, and had somehow found a way to ruin her present too.

The chauffeur lunged towards her in a last desperate effort to hold her back, but she deftly sidestepped him and continued walking towards the staircase.

"That's enough, Francois." She heard Raymond say. His face was hidden in the shadows of the huge house, but she would recognise that voice anywhere. Raymond had been a recurring member of her dreams in the past six years.

Emilia stopped in front of the staircase and waited. Her heart was beating a tattoo in her chest as she looked up. Then he began to walk down the steps, slowly and surely, as though torturing her with his footsteps.

She felt as though her heart would force its way out of her ribcage. He slowly came down the stairs and his eyes met hers across the small distance. He was taller than she remembered, and his eyes, those green eyes like clear-cut glass that she'd fallen in love with, were weary and dull.

"Miley." He murmured. "Welcome home."