by J. L. Wilder
“Right,” Emmett said, defeated. “Thanks.”
The man turned and went back inside, leaving Emmett alone on the porch.
This was stupid, he thought, his hands fisting in frustration. His pack could be anywhere by now. They might not even be in Rhode Island anymore. He was chasing ghosts, hoping to find them, and in the meantime, God only knew what the Coywolves might be doing to Hazel. To Emmett’s children.
He wasn’t going to get any help with this.
He was going to have to go back and save her himself.
He had no idea how he was going to do it. There were so many of them. And that gun, however little he thought of such crude tools, would kill him pretty damn quickly if he gave them a chance to fire it. But he was going to have to figure something out.
Hazel needed him, and he had made her a promise. He had promised that they would be together. That they would be a family.
It was a promise he intended to keep.
Chapter Fifteen
HAZEL
It was like being in prison all over again.
Hazel woke every morning to a feeling of deep despair. How could she have ever been blind to the fact that she’d been a prisoner all along? Had it only been her subjection to Matthew as alpha that had prevented her from seeing what this family was and how little they cared for her?
It felt like a blindfold had been removed from her eyes. It felt like she was seeing them for the first time.
Paulie, thank God, had refused to touch her until her pregnancy had been terminated. “I don’t want her while she’s carrying that scum’s pups,” he'd said, a look of disgust on his face, when Matthew had suggested that Hazel move from her room into his. So, for the time being, she’d been permitted the privacy of her own room. That couldn’t last forever, she knew. She had taken to lingering in doorways, trying to catch snatches of conversation, trying to learn what the plan was for her and her babies. She had caught Matthew talking about an appointment a few times, so she knew that one had been made. But she had no idea when it was supposed to take place.
One day, she supposed, they would just come into her room, haul her out of bed, and take her there. She would put up a fight, but she had no real hope of resisting. There were too many Coywolves, and they were all stronger than she was.
She spent her days alone, pent up in her room, trying to think what to do and how to escape. She had tried the window first thing, but there was a lock on the outside. Had that always been there? She realized she didn’t know. She’d never had occasion to think about it before. But they had clearly taken the time to think about what she might do if she were able to get the window open, and they’d taken measures to prevent her from doing it. Thoughts of creating a rope by tying her sheets together and lowering herself to the ground evaporated like smoke. There would be no escape that way.
She thought of sneaking out in the night—just creeping down the stairs and out the front door. Matthew had issued an order against it, but despite Hazel’s promise to submit to him, his orders still seemed to roll right off her back. It was the one encouraging thing she had to cling to. However, when she tried to open the bedroom door after midnight, she found that was locked too.
They had her. There was no way out.
She wanted to hate them. As a group, she did hate them. And yet, some among them were still kind to her, were still the family she remembered and had loved. That made it confusing and painful.
How could she hate Paisley? Paisley, who had always been her best friend, with whom she had giggled about boys when they were young? It was Paisley who brought Hazel her breakfast tray every morning. Today, the tray contained pancakes with bananas and powdered sugar, and Hazel remembered the paltry trays of soggy food the Savage Rangers had given her. It could be worse.
It just didn’t feel like it could be any worse.
Paisley set the tray down and climbed onto the foot of Hazel’s bed. “Are you feeling any better?” she asked.
“I don’t have the flu, Paisley,” Hazel said wearily. Her friend had asked this question for the past three mornings in a row, and Hazel understood that this must be the story Matthew was spreading. She wondered whether anyone else had been foolish enough to believe it, to think that she was spending all her time in this room because she was body-sick rather than heartsick.
Paisley ignored her rebuttal, as she had for the past three days. “Matthew says I’m to sit up here and make sure you eat all your breakfast,” she chirped. “You need your strength. And he suggested I should fix up your hair and makeup too, that you might feel more yourself if you cleaned up a bit.”
“By more myself does he mean less wild?” Hazel asked.
Paisley’s smile slipped a bit. “Hazel...I don’t know what that biker did to you, exactly, but you need to come to your senses. He’s not a good person.”
“You don’t know him, Paisley.”
“Well, he isn’t like us. Matthew says he doesn’t even live in a house, for God’s sake. He just drives around on that bike, sleeping on sidewalks and eating out of dumpsters like an actual dog.”
“He’s a wolf, not a dog,” Hazel said. “And so are you, Paisley. So are we all. Did you ever think about it that way? We are wolves. It doesn’t make sense to pretend we’re not all the time, the way we do. We should be embracing that part of ourselves. Don’t you think?”
“I think I want a bed with a mattress and a pillow,” Paisley said stubbornly. “I want a warm meal every night. I want a job where I earn money that I get to spend on things I want. Some of us like being human, Hazel.”
“You don’t have to choose one or the other,” Hazel said, exasperated. “You can be human and be wolf too.”
“No, you can’t,” Paisley said. “The ones who live wild, they lose their humanity eventually. They turn into animals. That’s why he picked a fight with Matthew. He’s a wild animal.”
“What?” Hazel couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Emmett didn’t start that fight, Paisley. You were there. You saw what happened. We were all just talking and then Paulie hit him with a bat! He hardly even fought back!”
“He came in looking for a fight,” Paisley said. “Matthew smelled it on him as soon as he walked in the door. The aggression. If Paulie hadn’t taken the first shot, he was probably going to try to kill Matthew.” She shook her head sadly. “I can’t believe you fell for his lies, Hazel. But don’t worry, okay? We all love you. We’re going to help you figure things out. Soon enough, you’ll remember who your real family is.”
Hazel could only stare at her friend in shocked silence. She couldn’t believe how brainwashed Paisley appeared to be, how taken in by the story Matthew was apparently spinning. Had she been this naive before she’d been kidnapped? She wanted to think she hadn’t been, but she suspected she probably had.
Paisley sat with Hazel until she had finished her breakfast. Then she took the tray away, shooting her friend one last troubled look and not bothering with the promised hair and makeup fixing. Hazel had the feeling she’d scared Paisley.
Good, she thought. She should be scared. I thought these were good people, people who loved me, and now, they’re holding me here against my will. They’re going to end my pregnancy. No one who loved me would do those things.
She laid down, staring at the wall beside her bed, one hand resting on her stomach. It had already started to swell. She knew enough to know that shouldn’t be possible—it was far too soon—but it must have something to do with her omega nature. Her body welcomed pregnancy, thrived in pregnancy.
They’ll have to knock me out, she thought grimly. I’ll never consciously let them take my babies.
But they would knock her out. She had no illusions about that. Matthew wouldn’t hesitate.
The boredom of lying in her room alone hour after hour was enough to numb anything. Eventually, sleep crept in. When she awoke, it was to the sound of a match being struck.
She sat bolt upright. Was this it? Were they taki
ng the babies?
No. It was Rita, puttering around the room and lighting candles. She placed a fat scented one on Hazel’s bedside table and glanced over. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“That’s okay.” Hazel struggled to sit upright. “What time is it?”
“Ten thirty. In the evening,” Rita added, clearly anticipating Hazel’s next question. “You slept all day. That might mean you’re on the road to recovery.”
“I don’t have the flu, Rita. I think you know I don’t. Why are you pretending?”
She saw the anguish in Rita’s face by the light of the candle. “Matthew says you have the flu,” she said carefully.
“But I don’t. You know I don’t!”
“Matthew ordered me to help you recover from your illness,” Rita said.
And Hazel understood. It all made perfect sense now. Matthew had ordered the others to treat her as though she were in bed with the flu, probably so that no one would acknowledge her pregnancy or her broken heart. They were caring for her on the surface, but they were deliberately ignoring the source of her pain. She wondered whether Matthew understood how much worse he’d made things for her by insisting on this treatment.
By the look on her face, Hazel thought that Rita, at least, did understand.
Now, Rita stopped beside Hazel’s bed and rested a palm on her forehead. Hazel had memories of the older woman doing this when she’d been a child. Rita had always been a mother to her. “Can’t you help me?” she asked. “Can’t you stop him? I don’t want to give up my children, Rita. They’re mine. Can’t you understand?”
An expression of pain twisted Rita’s face. “It’s for the best,” she whispered. “You’ll be able to get pregnant again. You’re an omega, Hazel. You’re a Cavallon omega. Pregnancy will come as naturally as breathing to you. And when you carry Paulie’s litter, everything will be different. I promise you. We’ll put this behind us, and everything will be all right.”
“I’m in love with Emmett,” she said softly.
“No, honey,” Rita said. “You’re infatuated. I know it feels intense. But that’s all it is. It’ll pass.” She squeezed Hazel’s shoulder and retreated from the room.
Hazel sighed. Rita loved her. She knew that. She had felt that. But Rita wasn’t going to stand up to Matthew for her. Hazel doubted she even could.
She was on her own.
Sleep refused to come that night, perhaps because she’d spent the whole day sleeping. She laid awake, watching the shadows creep across her ceiling and wondering what on earth she was going to do. It had been four days now since she and Emmett had parted, and she ached for him so fiercely that she felt as if she might lose her mind.
I’m in love with Emmett, she said to herself, firmly. She repeated it like a mantra. I’m in love with Emmett. I’m in love with Emmett. They could send him away, they could steal her pregnancy from her, but she would never allow them to convince her that she didn’t feel what she knew she felt. Love. I love him.
CRASH!
Hazel jerked upright. A rock had come flying through her window, sending shards of glass cascading to the floor. Emmett! was her first ecstatic thought. Careful not to step on the broken glass, she picked her way over to the window and leaned out, fully expecting to see him looking up at her.
A hand grabbed her by the back of her shirt and pulled hard.
Letting out a cry, Hazel tumbled head over heels out the window and fell the two stories to the ground below, landing with bruising force in someone’s arms. Whoever had caught her tossed her over their shoulder and set off running before she had time to figure out what was going on. She struggled, arching her back to try to see who was holding her, but all she could make out was a vague shape in the darkness.
She knew one thing. It wasn’t Emmett. She would have recognized his hands, his grip, the shape of his body. She would have known him. Could it be one of his packmates?
The man darted around the corner at the end of the block and put her down, keeping one hand firmly on her arm. “Who are you?” Hazel demanded, tugging against his grip. “Let me go.”
He only held on tighter. And now, she was beginning to feel afraid.
A car pulled up alongside them. The man opened the back door, pushed Hazel in, and climbed in after her. The driver sped off.
Not the Hell’s Wolves. They were bikers. They didn’t own a car.
“Who are you?” she asked again, this time fearfully.
But she had her answer. The man seated beside her had turned to face her, and she recognized the face. Spike. Spike of the Savage Rangers.
He had found her.
The Savage Rangers had caught her again.
A stab of horror went through her at the realization. But before it could take hold, another thought occurred. She had not been taken prisoner, had she? Not exactly. This was more like a prison transfer. She had exchanged one set of captors for another.
And the Savage Rangers didn’t know she was pregnant.
Oh, they’d know soon enough. At the rate her body was changing, she knew she couldn’t keep her secret for long. But maybe she would be able to protect her babies a little longer. Maybe long enough for something to change. Maybe the Rangers would decide they didn’t want to terminate the pregnancy, or maybe they would wait too long and they wouldn’t be able to find a doctor who would perform the procedure.
She held that thought close, turned it over and over in her mind, clung to it like a life preserver. These were men who would strip her bare and carve their mark into her flesh. These were men who would chase her halfway to the Mississippi River. They were cruel and bad, and she was sure they would force her to mate with them at some point. But they didn’t know about the babies, and that meant that there was hope.
The driver now tossed a rope over into Spike’s lap. “Tie her,” he said, and Hazel recognized the voice of Spike’s packmate, Edgar. “Hands and feet. She’s an escape artist, this one. We don’t want her getting away from us again.”
“She didn’t escape last time,” Spike pointed out. “Got stolen.”
“Shut up and tie the damn ropes, will you?”
Spike bent and looped one coil of rope around Hazel’s ankles. Hazel didn’t even think about trying to pull away. He was too strong, and his grip was too firm. Once he’d bound her ankles good and tightly, he used the other rope to tie her wrists.
Edgar pulled the car up in front of what looked like an abandoned barn. Hazel wondered how many decrepit old buildings the Savage Rangers had for locking women away in, but she didn’t ask. He wouldn’t answer, she knew. He would hurt her.
Using a metal ring, Edgar pulled up a trapdoor in the cement floor to reveal a set of steps. Spike lifted Hazel and carried her down, depositing her roughly on the floor. At least this floor wasn’t cold and wet, she thought. It seemed to be covered with straw. On the downside, it was almost pitch black down here, and that was with the trapdoor open.
“You should have known we’d catch up with you,” Edgar called down to her. “That mark on your arm is permanent, bitch. You belong to the Savage Rangers now. We’ll always find you. There’s no place in the world you can go that would keep you safe from us.”
He dropped the trapdoor, submerging her in complete darkness. A moment later, she heard a scraping noise and understood—something was being moved on top of the door. Something heavy, she didn’t doubt. Something that would keep her from escaping this place.
She listened to the sound of their footsteps receding, their voices fading into the distance. She took stock of her body. She hadn’t been injured during this second kidnapping—maybe bruised a little from her fall and being caught by Spike, but nothing serious. She rested a hand on her stomach. Her babies were unharmed.
Her greatest fear—that she would wake up in the morning to find herself being dragged out to a clinic to have her pregnancy ended—was gone. Whatever happened to her now, she could bear it to protect her children. Emmett’s children.
&nb
sp; She pushed some of the straw into a pile. Rather than curl up in the corner, as she had in her last cell with the Savage Rangers, she lay flat on her back, gazing up at the dark abyss she knew to be the ceiling. There was some way out of here, she knew. She would just have to think of it.
What would Emmett do in this situation?
Be a wolf. That’s what he would say. She could almost hear his voice now. Humans are weak. Wolves are strong. Be your inner wolf. That will get you out of this.
But what would a wolf do locked away in a cellar underneath a barn?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that she would have to find the answer. Her babies might be safe for now, but they wouldn’t be safe for long if she stayed with the Savage Rangers. She was going to have to find a way out of here, and she was going to have to do it without risking the lives of her litter.
Emmett was right, she thought. Matthew wasn’t able to keep me safe. Four days was all his protection had lasted, and she’d been kidnapped right out of her bedroom. She’d probably never be safe in that house again. They would always know where to find her.
Wherever Emmett was tonight, she hoped he was safe. And, as unlikely as it seemed, she hoped that he would somehow be able to find her once again.
Chapter Sixteen
EMMETT
His plan had been to make a move in the middle of the night. He wanted to get her out of the house without attracting any attention and to do it at a time he could be confident no one would be coming to check on her for several hours. He could climb up the side of the house, he thought, and get her to open the window. He could climb back down with her on his back. Then they’d get on the bike and take off, head west and never come back. By the time the Coywolves realized what had happened, they would be long gone.