The Devil's Granddaughter

Chapter 12 ~ Highway to Hell

SAMANTHA'S P.O.V

There was an incessant pounding in my head that bothered the hell out of me during my walk back to the packhouse. It was as if my brain didn't know how to function properly without being under Reginald's control. Either that or this is some kind of side effect from being mind-controlled for so damn long.

And while we're still on the topic of side effects, we can go ahead add memory loss to the list. Many of the events that occurred while I was under Reginald's influence are blurry. If I thought about it too hard, my brain would protest and send another wave of intense pain throughout my head. Weirdly enough, I still have a vivid memory of the night I was kidnapped up until the magic began to take over my body.

The walk from the underground bunker to the pack was long enough to give me an ample amount of time to try to sort out my thoughts, even though the pain of the migraine was pulsing through my temples. Sapphire's words especially have been looping in my mind. I've been gone for 5 years. How the hell did this happen? Did the pack even care that I was gone? Did they even bother looking for me? Did Mich-

Michael.

My mate.

What about him?

I'm sure he tried to look for me, right? Or did he eventually give up on the thought of us being reunited as well? Has he moved on?

How the hell was I supposed to just waltz back into the packhouse as if I hadn't been missing for the past 5 years? Hell, I don't even remember most of it. Between the night I got kidnapped, opening the portal, and my strange interaction with Sapphire everything else was pretty much a blur. It hasn't even felt like I'd been gone for more than a month, but in actuality, I've missed birthdays, holidays, births, deaths, pack events, mating ceremonies. I've missed so much. And standing outside of the packhouse I was, literally, a stranger looking in from the outside. Five years is plenty of time for people to evolve and change, and I wasn't sure I'd fit into any of it.

Could I still even call this pack my home after all the trouble I've unintentionally caused them? After all the shit I've now caused the entire Supernatural Realm to go through? Would they all look at me differently because of the fact that I've helped the enemy? And what about Aubrey? How will she think of me now knowing that I helped the one man that hurt her even worse than her own terrible father?

I took a shaky breath as I stepped closer towards the house. A pungent smell of death lingered in the air, and in the dark night, I could still see the shape of what I was hoping were not carcasses lingering around. When I made it to the door, I could hear the frantic sounds of everyone inside and I wondered if I should knock. The thought shocked me because in all my time that I've lived here I've never felt like so much of a stranger until now. I shook the silly thought out of my head and simply opened the door that was unlocked.

The inside of the pack was as I remembered it for the most part. Give or take the few wolves bustling about, and the number of injured people being lugged around makeshift gournies. It almost felt like I was a ghost floating about haunting the place, as everyone around me seemed to disregard my presence. It didn't matter much to me nor did it hurt my feelings because there was a familiar scent in the air that I was desperate to go back to. The reunion with the rest of the pack could easily wait. They seemed busy enough trying to fix the mess that I helped create.

I practically ran up the stairs, maneuvering my way between pack members who were also frantically going up and down the stairway. Some seemed to give me a passing glance with a glimmer of recognition in their eyes as they passed by, but they were too busy to stop and stare. It was understandable considering my scent was undetectable even to my own nose. I'm sure it had something to do with the witch who was also responsible for me being mind-controlled in the first place.