by Kimber White
“All right,” I said. I turned my hand sideways and sliced it through the air. “Straight that way. Don’t veer left or right. If there’s trouble, you’ll know.”
“And I’ll hide. Got it.”
I stepped away from her, my wolf bubbling to the surface. I barely made it to the cover of the trees before letting him out. Fur ripped along my back and I dug my paws into the ground. Lena was right behind me. Not missing a step, she leaned down and picked up the jeans I’d discarded.
Through my wolf eyes, I saw her even more clearly. Heat rushed to the surface of her skin. Her cheeks flushed and her breasts rose and fell with heavy breaths. She wanted to touch me. I could feel her fingers trembling with the need for it. As she turned, my heart slammed against my ribcage. With her hair up, I could see the mark at the base of her neck plainly. It was even crueler than the one he’d made on her face. But, it was cold. With my enhanced vision, the skin around it looked almost blue, standing out in marked contrast to the heat bubbling along her spine.
I pawed the ground and dropped my head. Lena understood. She folded my jeans and picked up the backpack I’d dropped. Hoisting it over her shoulders, she waited for me to go first. Though it tore at me to leave her, I did anyway.
Two miles. Twenty minutes. That was likely all it would take before we reached the Millers’ farm. Lena kept up a brisk pace while I darted through the trees and pricked my ears. We weren’t alone, but I sensed no danger. The Pack was out there, make no mistake, but they didn’t know we were coming.
Lena did exactly as I told her and kept to the railroad tracks. We were lucky and no trains ran through. I looped around her in wide figure eights, staying out of her line of sight. I was with her, but apart from her at the same time. If felt wrong, unnatural. If I’d marked her I could keep her safer. I could venture further away and still know if she was in danger. The instant the thought popped into my mind, it nearly drove me to my knees with wanting.
I could mark her. I was supposed to mark her. Except, I never would. They’d taken that from me too. Brushing those thoughts aside, I focused on just following her.
Lena made good time and crested the last hill before spying the farmhouse below. I could almost see it through her eyes. Just as I warned, the Millers’ mule brayed a warning as Lena got close. She turned back at the last, looking for me. Her eyes zoned in on me right away. Of course she’d been aware of my precise position the entire time. She raised a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. I stepped into the light and waited.
I gestured to her with my head. She immediately understood and waited. I headed down toward the barn.
Thirteen
Lena
Payne was a blur of motion and streaking red fur as he took the final hill toward the Millers’ farm. The place could have been the backdrop for a Christmas card with the two barns painted in green with white trim. The house itself was really a double-wide on cement blocks. Gertrude, the Millers’ mule, came out from behind one of the barns in a lazy stroll, munching on grass.
Payne was cautious, wanting me to stay hidden among the trees while he had a look around. We seemed to communicate so easily without words. It felt both natural and foreign if that makes any sense. It had been like that with Shelby, and I couldn’t quite separate the memory of that and all I’d fought against with what was happening to me now. But, in just the few short days since we’d started traveling together, I felt tuned in to Payne’s moods.
I kept my gaze fixed on the front door of the Millers’ house. The shades were drawn and afternoon shadows darkened the lawn. Mrs. Miller had flower boxes beneath the windows. Purple lilacs and violets grew in wild clumps, hanging over the sides. Even from here, I could see the petals had become brittle from lack of water.
Payne came around from behind the barn. He tilted his head into the wind; his chest expanded as he sniffed the air. The mule snorted, but kept clear of him. Payne turned to me and pawed the ground. I took it as a signal to join him. Adjusting the weight of the backpack on my shoulder, I reached in and pulled out a pair of jeans for him. When I reached his side, I tossed them to him and turned my back.
A whoosh of air brushed the back of my neck, lifting my hair as Payne completed his shift. He came to my side, towering over me. His eyes still glistened with the emerald hue of his wolf.
“I need to check the house,” he said. “Duke’s truck is gone. His tractor’s parked behind the barn with the keys still in it.”
“Do you think something’s wrong?” I asked. Payne was calm, but guarded. His fingers twitched at his sides.
“Not sure,” he said. “I don’t know if Mac sent word to expect us. I wouldn’t think so. Too many things could have gone wrong. The less the Millers or anybody else knows about where we’re headed and when, the better.”
“Should we knock on the door?”
“Just wait here,” he said. “If Duke and Tricia were here, they’d have seen us by now. Tricia’s cautious, but she’d have come out to greet us.”
Holding the backpack in front of me as a sort of shield, I waited as Payne walked up to the front of the house. He cupped his hands and peered through the windows. He moved around to the side and did the same. Satisfied the house was empty, he came back to me and shrugged.
“Is there something wrong, do you think?” I asked. I hated this. I hated relying on other people, especially ones I didn’t know. I’d had to take so much on faith when I left Birch Haven with my brother. He hadn’t let me down yet, but everything about this went against my nature. I felt unsettled, exposed.
“It’ll be okay,” Payne said, sensing my distress. God, I hated that too. “It’s Sunday...at least I think. They’re probably just in town at some church function.”
“What about the tractor?” I asked, setting the pack on the ground. “You said he left the keys in it. You think that means something?”
Payne shrugged. He lifted a hand to his face and scratched his chin. He had nearly a week’s worth of reddish-gold stubble. It lent his features a rugged charm, and I found myself itching to touch him there. I squeezed my eyes shut against the urge.
“Duke’s particular about his toys,” Payne answered. “Their son Ollie might have left it like that. He’s seventeen or eighteen, I think. Duke’ll teach him a lesson, for sure. There’s a storm coming. Can you feel it?”
I couldn’t until just that second. Then, it was as if Payne’s senses invaded mine. I caught a whiff of ozone and a dark band moved in across the eastern sky. “Duke sure as hell won’t want that machine left out to the elements. If it was Ollie, I don’t know what he was thinking. His father’s got a temper.”
“I don’t like this,” I said. “I think we should get inside or underground.”
“Yeah,” Payne said. “Come on. I know where Tricia keeps a spare key.”
“We’re just going to barge into her house?”
“You got a better idea? There’s no food or running water in the barn. I’m guessing you wouldn’t say no to a hot shower.”
My knees nearly buckled at the thought of it. Hot water. God. I hadn’t had a real shower in a real bathroom in more months than I could count. It’s the one advantage Birch Haven had over Mammoth Forest.
Payne broke into a smile as he saw my reaction. Damn my lack of a poker face. He picked the backpack off the ground and gestured toward the front door. Running his hands beneath the flower box on the closest window to the door, he produced a silver key and smiled. He unlocked the door and held up a finger.
“Just in case,” he said.
Again, I waited as Payne did recon. I heard a crash as he must have bumped into a table, but after a few seconds he called out for me to follow him in.
The Millers’ home was sparse, clean, and quaint. The front room had two flower-patterned couches arranged around a flat screen television on the wall. It led into a kitchen trimmed in pink. Not my taste at all, but it was homey and inviting with watercolor paintings of the farm and the woods beyond it
on every wall.
“Tricia’s a bit of an artist,” Payne explained when he saw me looking. “She does portraits too.”
Sure enough, on a buffet against the wall, she had a series of smaller paintings in free-standing frames. I laughed when I realized what they were. Tricia Miller had painted a few wolves I recognized. One in particular caught my eye. This wolf had a red and gold coat and brilliant green eyes. I picked it up and ran my fingers over the edge of the frame. She’d caught Payne’s likeness as he stood at the crest of the hill looking down over the farm.
“Not bad,” I said. “But isn’t this a little dangerous for her to be doing?”
Payne cocked his head to the side. It was a pure “confused dog” look and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I’m not the only red wolf around these parts. The next town over is Winterbury. That place is crawling with Pack.”
“And they’re not?” I asked. “Pack, I mean. The Millers.”
Payne shook his head. “Nah. They’re human through and through. But, Tricia’s sister was taken.” His voice dropped. He of course didn’t have to explain to me what he meant by “taken.”
I put the small painting down and hugged my arms to my chest. “Is she…”
“Gone,” Payne answered, his expression grim. “Her name was Tonya. They were identical twins. She had a boy. Daniel. I helped get him across the border a little over a year ago.”
“So that’s why the Millers have agreed to help you out now?” I leaned against the wall, feeling a little lightheaded. So much waste. So much sadness. I could recite this story in my head; I’d heard a million like it over the years. The same thing had happened to my own family. My mother, like me, had been given to a Pack member and marked. Mac was supposed to report to the Alpha for service when he turned eighteen. We would have probably never seen him again. Then, I was “taken” to repeat the cycle my mother started.
“Daniel was a shifter, then,” I said. “A beta?”
“Yes,” Payne answered. “He was only thirteen when we got him out.”
“God,” I said, my stomach churning. “But where? Who’s taking care of him now?”
Payne’s eyes dropped. “I don’t know the answer to that. I got him across the Ohio River. We have contacts up north. He was supposed to go there. He had enough money for bus fare.”
“Then how do you know if he even made it? Thirteen? He’s a baby.”
Payne made a low noise in his throat. I knew my question angered him. He thought I was judging him. I wasn’t. It was just all so awful. There were no good solutions. Sure, Tricia’s nephew Daniel would have a chance at a life free from the Pack if he made it safely into Ohio. But then what? Foster care? Would he be lucky enough to find another shifter family who could help him through the sometimes violent adolescence boys like him had to endure?
“How about that hot shower?” Payne said, his tone gruff. He set down the backpack and turned away from me.
“Payne,” I said, hating how small my voice sounded. He didn’t turn, but he froze, his shoulders straightening. “I know you did what you had to do for Daniel. You gave him a better life.”
Payne stood stock still, his fists clenched at his sides. Then, he headed down the hall without a word.
Shit. I’d made him angry. I really wasn’t trying to judge. I just wished there were easy answers though I knew there never would be. What would happen to me if we made it across the border? Where would I go? Yes, a life of true freedom from the Pack would be better than any alternative. But, I could barely function around people who knew my backstory. How would I ever fit in with those who didn’t?
Maybe this whole thing had been a colossal mistake. I’d wanted so badly to take away the pain and worry from my brother’s eyes I’d agreed to leave for him. I’d believed him when he said having me close would just make things more dangerous for him. I was one more weapon the Pack could use against him if they ever caught me again. Plus, he knew the real truth. They would never catch me again because I’d die first.
So, it seemed there was no place for me in the world that wouldn’t cause pain to the people I cared about. In an odd way, it made me long for Birch Haven. At least there, I was surrounded by other women in my same predicament.
“Lena!” Payne called out. His tone cut through me, turning my knees to water. He didn’t say anything else. And yet, he threw out a command almost through the air that hit me straight in the chest.
Stay back. Trouble!
Pain shot through me. It wasn’t mine though. It was his. Something had caught Payne in the chest and made him double over. I dove for the backpack and pulled the gun out of the side pocket. Aiming it toward the ground, I pressed my back against the wall and started down the long hallway.
There were three doorways. Straight across from me, the bathroom door stood wide open. It was empty. Gleaming white tile caught my eye, but nothing in it had been disturbed. Pink towels hung straight and even over a rack on the glass shower door.
I lifted the gun, holding it to my chest as I edged further down the hall. Payne had disappeared behind the last door on the right. It stood slightly ajar and shadows danced across the wall as I made my approach. My heart thundered inside of me. I felt Payne’s jackhammering pulse too. I could almost hear his thoughts though I knew that couldn’t be true. Still, a single phrase slammed into my brain, and I knew it wasn’t coming from me.
Not again! Not again! Not again!
“Payne?” I finally said, my throat ragged and dry. I held the gun in front of me, my finger on the trigger.
I kicked the door and squared my shoulders. Payne was on his knees. His face contorted with pain, he looked up at me, his wolf eyes blazing. The room was torn to bits. The mattress was stripped and flipped against the wall. Slash marks cut through the fabric and feathers covered the floor like a layer of snow.
Payne had his back to me. He cut a hulking figure, his shoulders hunched over something on the ground in front of him. I was afraid to move. If I took just two steps forward, I’d be able to see over him. I didn’t want to. Oh, God. I didn’t want to. The scars on my arms burned with the painful reminder of the kind of violence someone had unleashed on this room.
Finally, Payne turned to me. I held the gun steady but pointed down and away from him. Payne’s eyes were gone. He seemed caught between wolf and man. Both of them tortured. A crumpled figure lay in front of Payne’s knees. He was on his stomach wearing what had probably been a white t-shirt. Now, it was stained brown with dried blood, three tell-tale rips across the back. Claw marks.
“Payne,” I said. “Are they here?”
I couldn’t sense the Pack. The window on the other side of the room was cracked open about two inches. Cotton eyelet curtains flapped in the breeze and the plastic pull from the Venetian blinds knocked against the wall, but there was no other sound.
“Payne!”
He stared at me but through me. He’d gone to some distant place or memory in his mind. My God, I knew that well. How many times had I experienced the same thing? It could be a smell, a noise, or just the lingering echoes of a dream and I was transported straight back to Birch Haven or the night Shelby died.
“Payne!” I shouted. He stared transfixed at the opposite wall. His eyes flicked back and forth as some scene played out in his mind. Whatever he saw, it was reality to him.
I took a cautious step forward. Instinct drove me. I knew in my heart the one thing that could bring Payne back into himself. Because, I needed him. If that was Duke Miller dead on the ground, the Pack was responsible. We could be compromised. They could be watching the farm right now.
I reached for Payne. Holding the gun steady in my right hand, I let the fingers of my left hand brush against his cheek. It was like touching heated marble. He flinched and reared back as if I’d struck him. His eyes flickered, going from brilliant green to calmer hazel then back again.
“Payne.” I reached for him again. Though it set off a powder keg of
emotions inside of me, I knew my touch was the only thing capable of keeping him here. I pressed my palm against his cheek. Payne was on his knees. His eyelids fluttered and finally, he focused on me.
His skin seared mine where I touched him. An ache thrummed through me, starting low in my core and spreading. A hunger rose within me so powerful it nearly drove me to my knees before him. Payne wavered and lost his balance. Then, his back straightened and he lifted his chin to meet my gaze straight on.
“Lena.” My name came out as a choked whisper on his lips. “Mine.”
I pulled my hand away. No. I couldn’t...wouldn’t hear it.
“We have to get out of here,” I said. “Is this the Pack? Do you hear them?”
Payne blinked slowly, still suspended between his flashback and the present. “I did this,” he said, spreading his hands wide. He rolled Duke Miller over. The man’s vacant blue eyes stared up at the ceiling. His skin was mottled and gray and his limbs were stiff. He’d been dead for a little while. That gave me some small comfort. Whatever happened, we hadn’t walked straight into it. Still, odds were the Pack was watching this place closely now. My stomach dropped thinking what might have happened to Tricia Miller or their son.
“You didn’t do this,” I said. “Payne, you’ve been with me for days. This wasn’t you.”
“He made me do it,” Payne said. He was making no sense at all.
“No!” I shouted. “You’re not a killer. We can’t stay here. And we can’t do anything more for the Millers. The Pack’s been through here. I can’t sense them the way you can. I need you to help me, Payne. I don’t want to die here.”
His hand shot out and he gripped the wrist of my gun hand. He lifted it. I couldn’t stop him. He was way too strong. With my hand closed around the trigger, he pressed the barrel against his own forehead.
“Do it,” he said. “Don’t let him turn me into what I was.”