When Ethan explained that they needed to leave, she’d assumed that meant leaving town. Instead, they were only thirty minutes from her house with orders to stay here until Ethan could get to them. Until then…
She really had no idea what she was supposed to do.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true since she knew damn well that she was supposed to be trying to get away and get help, but…
She wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
She had no idea what she was really dealing with and something told her that getting the police involved wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t think they were prepared to handle something like this without Trace paying the price. It shouldn’t matter what happened to him, but it did. He’d saved her life and as much as he scared her, she couldn’t ignore that fact.
“What is this place?” Samantha asked only to decide that perhaps now wasn’t the best time to ask questions when Trace’s eyes turned red and that was pretty much all she needed to get her to focus on something else.
At least Nathan was safe, Samantha told herself as she let Charlie out of the backseat, who immediately came to her side and-
“Stop doing that!” Samantha snapped, glaring down at the horrible dog that she was stuck with only to gasp and move her ass when he nipped at her again.
Vowing to eat an entire pizza in front of him the first chance she got, she grabbed her bag-
“Damn it!”
-and quickly made her way to the house before he could nip at her again. Once she made it safely to the front door, she noted the keypad on the doorknob.
Slowly exhaling, she squinted down at the note in her hand, trying to remember if she wrote down a code as she did her best to make sense out of what she was seeing only to end up slapping her hand against the door, closing her eyes and taking a shaky breath as pain shot through the back of her skull. She berated herself for not going to the hospital when she had a chance. Hoping that she wasn’t dealing with a skull fracture, she opened her eyes and forced herself to focus on the small piece of paper in her hand.
“The year he was born,” came the familiar voice out of nowhere.
Frowning, she glanced up and found herself looking into a small camera lens, letting her know that Ethan was watching them. It took her a moment to figure out what he was talking about, but once she did, she turned around and found Trace standing behind her.
“What year were you born?” Samantha asked only to regret it when more pain shot through the back of her head.
“1649,” Trace murmured absently, looking lost in thought.
With a slight nod, Samantha turned back around and slowly typed the date into the keypad. When she heard the small beep, she turned the lock and opened the front door, triggering the alarm. As several beeps counted off, she tried to wrap her mind around everything that happened in the last…god, she didn’t even know how much time had passed since this all started as she searched for the keypad so that she could shut off the alarm. The only thing that she knew was that she needed to lay down before she passed out.
Forcing herself to focus, she tried to ignore how much the soft beeps were hurting her head and continued looking for the security pad. A few seconds later, she found it on the wall by the front door and punched in the code. Once the alarm was off, she sighed with relief, turned around and headed for the rather comfortable looking leather couch, deciding that she’d had more than enough for one day.
*-*-*-*
“I really hate you,” his wife mumbled from where she was curled up on the strange-looking chaise lounge when the dog took it upon himself to jump on top of her.
With an annoyed sigh, she pushed the dog off, dragged herself back to her feet and stumbled towards the stairs while he took in the house that carried his father’s scent. He’d lived in a lot of places as a boy, small cottages, inns, and whorehouses, but never in anything like this.
He’d grown up in rooms barely big enough to fit a bed, and if they were lucky, they’d have a small window covered with greased paper and shutters that banged against the walls all night, wood floors that creaked with every step, mattresses filled with old hay that smelled like mildew and dirt, and doors that didn’t close without a prayer and a nail. They’d been dirty, overcrowded, and had cost less than a whore for the night.
“We’re going to have to figure out food later,” Samantha said absently, as she headed up the stairs only to pause and throw him a questioning look. “Are you able to eat food?”
“I don’t know,” Trace said because that had been one of the questions that his father hadn’t been able to find an answer for. Since he’d needed food as a child, he assumed that he could still eat. It was probably something that he should look into soon, he thought when he caught her scent and nearly groaned.
“We’ll figure it out,” Samantha said as she rubbed her hands down her face and continued heading up the stairs. Forcing himself to ignore just how good his wife smelled, he shifted his attention back to the one thing that he’d dreamed of having when he was a boy.
A home.
It hadn’t mattered to him where they’d lived just as long as they could finally stop running. He would have given anything to stop running, Trace thought even as he followed his wife into a bedchamber and found himself glancing out the window at the proof that his father had stopped running a long time ago.
“I just need to lay down for a few minutes,” his wife mumbled as she crawled onto the large bed and closed her eyes.
Absently nodding, Trace forced himself to look away from the cottage that he never should have run away from and walked over to the large bed where his wife was curled up on her side. He pushed the mattress down, noting that it didn’t feel like it was filled with straw. It was firmer than his wife’s small mattress, but it didn’t have her sweet scent. He shifted his attention to the rug beneath his feet, noting the way the gray material darkened with every step before shifting his attention to the light gray walls, the strange lanterns on the wall, and all the things that he’d never seen before.
The reminder of everything that had been taken from him had him heading for the one thing that he recognized, the bathroom. He took in the small room, noting that there were two water bowls in this room and that they were different from the ones at his wife’s house. Relieved that the toilet looked the same, he tried to work his pants open only to give up with a sigh and pushed them down until he could pull his cock free. As he relieved himself, Trace took in the rest of the room, noting the small glass closet in the corner and the large basin that was big enough to fit a grown man against the wall, the linen folded over metal bars, and the items lining the water bowl counters.
Once he was done, he pushed his cock back in his pants and pulled them up so that he could examine the items on the counter. He recognized the toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush, but that was it. He took his time, carefully examining everything, taking in their scent, only to wonder what they were for. Sighing, Trace turned his attention back to the room to find his wife curled up in the middle of the bed, fast asleep.
Curious about her, Trace sat down on the bed next to her. When she didn’t open her eyes, he reached over to run his fingers through her long brown hair and couldn’t help but wonder why she affected him this way. For several minutes he sat there, content just to be near her, watching her sleep, and listening to the soothing sounds of her breathing until he decided that he’d put off finding out why his father sent them here long enough.
Trace ran his fingers through her hair one last time before he stood up and gestured for the dog to go to her. Wagging his tail, Charlie jumped onto the bed, curled up next to his wife, and-
Did he just shove her?
With an annoyed groan, the dog did it again until Samantha mumbled something in her sleep and moved over, leaving Trace to shake his head in disbelief as he shifted his attention to the scent that caught his attention when they’d arrived. Sending his wife one last glance to make sure that she was safe, he follow
ed the scent of blood downstairs and found himself standing in front of a metal door. Curious, he ran his fingertips over the smooth surface. For as long as he could remember, his father’s response to any sign of danger had been to run, which made him wonder why they were still here.
Deciding that it was time to find out, Trace opened the door and found himself looking down into a dark staircase. As his eyes shifted and everything took on different shades of blue, he walked down the stairs and into a large cellar filled with the lingering scent of blood, metal holding cells lined with thick bars, chains attached to the walls, and realized that his father was giving him exactly what he wanted.
Revenge.
Chapter 15
Carta, Washington
His son was alive, Ethan thought numbly as he sat there watching the large man that looked so much like his father step out of the basement, but it was those kind emerald eyes that had the air rushing out of his lungs. It had been so long since Ethan saw those incredibly kind eyes, but he would never forget them.
They’d saved him during the worst moment of his life.
As he’d been forced to watch his wife take her last breath, the terrified midwife that hadn’t been able to save her placed the small bundle that his wife died for in his trembling arms. He’d never planned on keeping his promise, not when it meant living in a world without Emily, but one look into his son’s eyes and he knew that he would do whatever it took to keep him safe.
Only to fail when Trace needed him the most, Ethan thought as his grip tightened around the steering wheel and the need to kill every last one of them-
“This is so pretty,” came the awed whisper that drew his attention to the handcuffed woman sitting in the backseat, reverently running her fingertips over the pink Hostess Snowball package with a whispered, “So pretty.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Ethan asked, sighing heavily as he reluctantly tossed the iPad onto the passenger seat and focused on the small woman that he should have killed when he found out that his son was alive.
He should kill her now, cut his losses, take the next plane to Maine so that he could pull Trace into his arms, but…
They’d buried his son alive in a fucking wall and for that, Ethan would make sure that every last fucking shifter paid. He prayed the small woman currently examining a Snicker’s bar was the key, which meant that killing her wasn’t an option.
Yet.
“I don’t know where to start,” she said as she shifted her attention to the large shopping bag that he’d filled with a hundred dollars’ worth of over-priced junk food to see if she could metabolize sugar, something that would help him narrow down the list.
He already knew that she wasn’t a vampire and he’d managed to eliminate over a half dozen demons, but that was it. He also knew that she wasn’t an Alpha, because she would have already ripped his throat out. She could be a shifter, but he didn’t see the bitch going through this much trouble to protect another shifter. It made him wonder if she was an impure. It would make sense, Ethan mused as he watched her shift her attention to the Reese’s peanut butter cups.
While Packs normally killed impures at birth, there were a few impures that Packs would kill to get their hands on. With the right combination, she could be worth a great deal, Ethan thought as a small beep drew his attention down to his phone and he found himself chuckling when he saw the text message letting him know that a ten-million-dollar bounty had just been placed on his head.
It looked like he finally had something the bitch wanted.
*-*-*-*
“Are you going to answer my question?”
“What was the question?” Indie managed to get out as she sat there pretending that she wasn’t dying.
She never should have touched any of that food, she told herself even as she couldn’t help but wonder what the Twinkies would have tasted like cold. Next time, she promised herself, deciding that it would probably be in her best interest to pretend that there would be a next time since giving herself false hope was the only thing that seemed to work for her.
“What are you?” the man that she’d been hoping would let her curl up on the bed so that she could die in comfort asked as he double-checked the handcuffs that were currently biting into her skin to make sure that she couldn’t get out of the really uncomfortable chair that he’d handcuffed her to.
“I’m-” Indie started to explain only to bite her lip to stop herself from gasping in pain when he gave the handcuffs a hard tug that had the metal cuffs cutting into her wrists as he whispered the question in her ear, stressing every last syllable, “What. Are You?”
“A mistake,” Indie managed to get out, repeating the name that she’d been given when she was born only to wince and bite back another cry of pain when he gave the handcuffs another tug.
“What kind of mistake?” he asked softly, as his grip tightened around her cuffs and-
“I don’t know!” she blurted out when he used his hold on the handcuffs to yank her arms up until it felt like they were going to snap off.
“Why were you in that house?” he asked in a cold seductive whisper as he gave her cuffed arms a tug that had her eyes watering and the air rushing out of her lungs.
“I don’t know!” Indie screamed because she had no idea why she was in that house.
She didn’t know anything.
She had no idea why they’d kept her trapped in that house, who she was, or why her guardians had been afraid to go near her and had only acknowledged her existence when she broke a rule. Other than that, they’d left her alone and anytime she’d tried to ask them a question, she was punished until she’d learned not to ask questions.
“You don’t know?” he asked in that same seductive whisper as she felt his lips brush against her ear.
“No!” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as she waited for the snap that she knew was coming only to feel herself slump against the chair when he suddenly let her go.
“What’s your name?” he asked as she sat there, trembling as she struggled to catch her breath.
“Indie,” she said, using the name that she’d given herself when she was little for the first time in her life as she opened her eyes to find him leaning down in front of her, absently nodding as his eyes turned silver and his fangs slid down.
“Do you know what they did to my son, Indie?” he asked absently, as he reached over and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she did her best not to flinch.
“I-I don’t even know who you are,” Indie mumbled nervously, as she leaned back as far as the wobbly chair would allow.
“Fair enough,” he murmured absently with a nod, as he stood up and pulled his shirt off, tossing it aside before placing his hands on the back of her chair, caging her in as he leaned back in until his mouth brushed against her ear and said, “I’m the man who’s going to kill you.”
Chapter 16
Rerum, New Hampshire
“What the hell did you do now?”
“Oh, thank god,” Jill said, sighing with relief when she heard Chris’s voice only to bite back a groan when she saw the man standing next to him.
“You are in so much trouble, young lady,” Chris said with a mocking glare as he reached over with a smile and pulled her into his arms. “You miss me?”
“Not really,” she said, smiling as she wrapped her arms around her brother only to remember too late about his fondness for bear hugs.
“There’s no need to lie. We both know you missed me,” Chris said, giving her one last squeeze before dropping her on her feet and-
“What the hell happened, Jill?” her father asked, sighing heavily even as he reached past Chris and pulled her into his arms.
“Just a misunderstanding, Dad,” Jill said as she reluctantly wrapped her arms around him as she did her best not to think about the fact that the last time she saw him was when she’d been banished.
Since then, she’d been avoiding him and the lecture that she knew was c
oming, but it looked like her reprieve was finally over. Closing her eyes, Jill allowed herself to enjoy one last minute of peace before she pulled back, trying to figure out what she was going to do next. Granted, she’d been trying to do that since the asshole locked her in here last night.
She already knew staying here was no longer an option. So, she wasn’t going to bother asking. Going to live with her family was out of the question as well. They didn’t want her there and to be honest, she didn’t want to live anywhere where she would have to deal with having her past sins constantly thrown in her face. She wasn’t perfect, far from it. She’d made a lot of mistakes in her life, done things that she would never forgive herself for, made choices that she had been too damn young to make, and she was going to have to live with that for the rest of her life.
She didn’t need a reminder.
“We need to talk,” Ephraim said as he reluctantly let her go.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jill said because she already knew what came next.
They didn’t want her.
They could give her a thousand excuses, but it all came down to one thing.
She didn’t belong in their world.
“I spoke with Eric and he thinks that it might be a good idea to send you to London for a little while,” Ephraim said as they stepped out of the holding cell and headed downstairs.
“No,” Jill said as she pushed the front door open and realized that she’d been locked up for an entire day when she spotted the pizza shop across the street closing up for the night.
At least she wouldn’t have to worry about quitting her job since they’d probably fired her when she didn’t show up for work today, Jill thought as she headed towards her apartment. She needed to see if Nick was home and hope that he let her in her apartment since her keys were currently in the possession of the other problem that she would worry about later.
“This isn’t up for discussion, Jill. You can’t stay here,” Ephraim explained as Chris threw his arm around her and steered her back the other way.
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