At least I’d chosen wisely in the clothing department, wearing cutoff denim shorts, a black tank, and flipflops. I’d also gone with the zero makeup mom-bun look, which was the easiest way to tame the absolute mess of hair I had going on. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but my hair was acting as strange as my life, channeling Rapunzel so that it was twice as thick as normal, not to mention down past my ass.

Torin wanted me to cut it. He’d mentioned more than once that my hair was a little out of control, so, of course, I took great pleasure in canceling every appointment he made with our local hairdresser. The fucking arrogance of that alpha, thinking he could dictate the length of my hair. Thanks to his archaic attitude, I would see the ends literally drag on the ground before I cut it to please him. Yep, there I went, showing him the one thing that truly controlled me.

My pride.

As I got closer to town, the foot and car traffic picked up, and every shifter who passed me waved and called out a greeting. My first instinct when pack members came close to me was to make myself small and get off the main path. A survival instinct that I’d no doubt never get rid of. Torma was a trigger for me, holding so many memories that I wished I’d lost. At least I had a plan now to escape; I just had a few little issues to clear up first.

When I reached the street, I stopped at the first shop: Baked Buns. It was a fantastic little bakery that had old-school red brick across its frontage and huge woodfire ovens lining the back walls, so everyone could see the delicious treats baking.

When I stepped through the door, the scents near killed me as my stomach grumbled and growled. Normally, I’d never have the money to spend on treats, not even as the alpha-mate because I refused to accept any of Torin’s “support.” But thankfully, during one of my tiny little rage-blackouts in my mom’s apartment when I’d trashed a bunch of shit, I’d found a packet of cash in an old cushion. Must have been one of my hiding places that I’d forgotten about.

Wherever it had come from, I was now cashed up enough to buy myself a nice pastry for breakfast.

“Good morning, alpha-mate,” Brenda, the cheery owner, said as she bustled out to take my order. “We’re so blessed to have you in our store today.”