Pride's Run

by Cathryn Fox

  He quirks a perplexed brow. “What was that for?”

  I think about the last few days, think about where I would have been without him. My voice comes out a little shaky when I say, “I think you know.”

  All humor fades from his eye when he says, “And I think it’s time for you to know, too.”

  Not liking the sound of that I tense and take a small step back. “Know what?” I ask cautiously, my entire body tightening at the seriousness I hear in his voice.

  He lowers his tone, like he thinks it will help soften the blow when he says, “I’m not who you think I am.”

  In an instinctive move, my throat tightens and my nape prickles in warning. “What are you talking about?” I begin to move away, trying to wrap my head around this unexpected turn of events.

  “Pride. Don’t.” Logan grabs my arms, but there is something in the way he says my name that immobilizes me.

  “Who are you then?” I ask.

  He goes quiet for a moment then says, “You remember when you asked if I believed there were packs who roam free in Canada? Compassionate wolves who live normal lives amongst the population and take to the woods on shift night?”

  I watch him carefully, and give him a look that conveys my unease. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Well they do exist. And that’s where we’re going.”

  Incredulous, my eyes widen. “You’re telling me you know for a fact that they really do exist?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m one of them.”

  He goes quiet and lets me look at him long and hard as I sort things through in my mind. My glance pans his face searching for the truth, but there is nothing in his expression or his body language to suggest he is lying to me.

  I shake my head and realize I shouldn’t be surprised at what I’m hearing. All the signs were there, waiting to be pieced together. As I think about his knowledge of the woods, his ability to hunt, to remove the microchip, to fit in so easily with the hikers, the puzzle known as Logan finally begins to fall into place.

  Still, I remain cautious when I ask, “If you’re telling the truth, why did you wait so long to tell me?”

  “Would you have believed me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well I do know and what I know is that you wouldn’t have believed me for a minute. I’ve learned that trust isn’t something that comes easy to you, Pride.” There is a real sadness in his eyes when he lowers his head and I hear gentle understanding in his voice when he says, “After everything you’ve been through it’s not much wonder. It took forever for you to trust me.”

  While I know he’s right and that trust isn’t something that comes easy to me, I still can’t help but feel he betrayed me. “You still should have told me.”

  “Let me ask you something. If you thought I was trying to lead you somewhere would you have run in the opposite direction?”

  “Yes,” I say without hesitation. “I would have.”

  “That’s why I didn’t tell you. You’re a girl to lead, not a girl to be led.”

  “Okay, fair enough.” I incline my head, smooth down my ripped shirt and ask, “So you got captured, broke free, and now you’re trying to find your way back home?”

  He nods and runs his hands along the back of my neck. “I’m trying to get us both home.”

  My heart hitches. “You want to take me to your home?”

  “Of course I do. I need you, Pride.” He glances around. “I couldn’t have made it this far without you.”

  “I wouldn’t have made it without you, either.”

  As I mull things over longer and realize what this really means for me, a surge of excitement rushes through my veins. I take a moment to think more about his family in the Canadian mountains and give further consideration to the compassionate pack of wolves that live normal lives, wolves that work together, and only take to the woods on run night.

  My heart races a little faster and a plan begins to formulate in my brain. My mother once thought this pack could help her, which was why she tried to make it across the border. Now that I know such a pack exists I begin to wonder if it’s possible. Would they be willing to help me take down my master?

  “If we can make good time today, we can be at the ferry by dinner time.”

  I’m already stepping over brush and pushing branches out of my way.

  “We might have a small problem though.”

  I stop and my hair whips around my face when I turn back to him. “What?”

  “You don’t have a passport, and in order to get into Canada you’re going to need one.”

  “Do you have one?”

  “I have one stashed in the dash of my car. It’s been in the parking lot at the ferry dock since my capture.” He pulls a face and says, “Let’s hope it’s still there.”

  We’re so close I refuse to give up now. “We need a plan.”

  “You’ll have to shift to wolf.”

  My head comes up with a start. “You want me to shift? Won’t the PTF be all over that place?”

  “Probably a few trackers, too. But they’ll be looking for two humans, or two wolves. They won’t be looking for a guy with his dog.”

  “I’m not a dog. I’m a wolf,” I remind him.

  “Yes, but once again your size proves to be an advantage for us.” I stare at him, still unconvinced. “You’re small enough to pass yourself off as my pet, Pride.”

  He’s right and I have to remember to start thinking of my size as a positive trait, not a negative one.

  He pauses and asks, “So what do you think? Do you trust me enough to shift and put your fate in my hands?”

  Without hesitation I say, “I put myself in your hands last night, didn’t I?”

  He smiles. “Good. Then let’s do this.”

  Working side by side, we finish packing our supplies, and take to the woods. We walk long and hard and I have a million questions for Logan, wanting to know more about his family as we make our way out of the forest. Would they be the kind to help? I’ve never asked anyone for help before and honestly wouldn’t even know how to begin.

  The time passes quickly as he fills me in on his life. The schools he’s gone to, the houses he’s lived in, and those he calls family. I learn that he lives on a quiet cul-de-sac with his aunt, uncle and his teenage cousin Gem who happens to be the same age as me.

  I like listening to his stories and I can’t help but feel a seed of hope blossoming inside me that maybe, just maybe if his pack can help me free the others we can all return to Canada and live normal lives.

  After hiking for nearly five hours straight, we grab a drink from a bubbling brook and try to wash the grime from our faces before we reach civilization.

  I help Logan smooth his hair down, and he wets his thumb and scrubs a streak of mud from my cheek.

  He smiles at me. “My family is going to love you.” Then his smile dissolves and I see a streak of jealousy when he adds, “So are all the alphas.”

  That makes me think of Stone and a lump lodges in my stomach. “I don’t think—”

  “I do,” he says and cuts me off. “Come on.”

  Discussion closed he grabs my hand and we walk a few more hours until the Olympic Park is finally at our backs. As we exit, I glance around the small coastal town and catch sight of the ferry, which has just begun to unload vehicles at the dock. I also see two PTF officers patrolling the area and my stomach plummets.

  When they turn in the opposite direction, Logan clasps my hand harder and we dart across the street. Without the cover of darkness to camouflage ourselves Logan pulls me between two towering buildings.

  He glances over his shoulder and scans the street. Fortunately with the ferry in dock and everyone waiting to reload the town is bustling with activity. With any luck we can use the crowds to our advantage.

  “Our best bet is to separate. You stay here and I’ll go get the car. Once I g
et it, I’ll pull up and block the alleyway. Use that time to shift and then jump into the passenger seat.”

  “Okay, got it.”

  Despite the urgency of the situation, he stops and places his hands on my arms. I watch his blue eyes darken and listen to his blood rush faster. His glance moves over my face. As he takes me in, like it’s the last time he’s going to see me, I suddenly get a horrible feeling in my gut.

  He opens his mouth and I can tell he wants to say something. But when turbulent emotions pass over his eyes, he seems to change his mind.

  “Be careful,” he murmurs, then he drops a hard kiss onto my mouth and moments before he breaks free and disappears into the crowd I get a sinking sensation in the pit of my gut that he has just given me a goodbye kiss.

  With danger all around me I need to stay sharp so I have no time to examine his actions, or how they make me feel. I draw a calming breath and crouch low, clearing my mind of everything, except the officers patrolling the dock. I scent the air, but with the dumpster so close behind me the smell of rotting compost and sewer clogs my senses.

  Logan strolls through the streets, hiding in the wide open. I can’t help but admire his confidence and skill as he makes his way to the parking lot near the dock, to where his car sits waiting.

  I watch him carefully, but when I see an officer sniff the air and turn in Logan’s direction, blind panic fills me.

  In an instinctive reaction, I jump from my hiding spot. As I prepare to dart after Logan, to warn him that he’s been made, a strong hand clamps down on my shoulder and my legs are kicked out from beneath me. My head cracks the pavement and the world around me goes fuzzy.

  I hear a scuffle, then, “Grab her arms.”

  Blood seeps from my ears and spills across the pavement, the coppery scent mingles with the pounding inside my skull and lets me know I’m still alive. I pry one eye open and as my glance flits over my captors, comprehension slowly sinks in.

  Despite the fact that I’m outnumbered, my survival instincts surge and force me to react. Since I’m unable to run, I know I have to fight because my wolf, intimidated by no one, refuses to be taken down by these PTF officers. Especially after having come so far.

  But as I’m dragged deeper into the alley by two hard men who’ve been trained to shoot first and ask questions later, I can’t help but fear the worst.

  With desperation fueling me on and knowing my only chance at survival is to shift, my clothes tear and I call on my primal side. A ferocious howl rips from my throat and sends the men into action.

  “Quick, subdue her before she finishes,” one cop yells out to the other two as his hand hovers over his gun. “Our orders are to bring her back to the estate alive. If she shifts I’ll have to shoot her.”

  I hurry to morph, the pain pulling my focus to the point of distraction, but I don’t miss the significance in what he’s saying.

  The PTF are working for my master!

  My incisors puncture my gums and moments before I’m about to go feral, I see one man pull a needle from his pocket. I growl and try to break the hold the other two have over me.

  With my transformation incomplete, I kick, claw and bite at the officers as they hold me down. But when a needle jabs my neck and I feel a cold, syrupy fluid pump into my body—a fluid I can only assume is liquid silver—it begins to slow me down.

  I give a broken gasp and lash out at the man knelt beside me, refusing to go down so easily. As he scuttles backward, fury obscures my vision and red dots dance before my eyes. But when some small coherent part reminds me that they want me alive I know I still have a fighting chance.

  And that’s good enough for me.

  I blink my mind into focus and work to push past the nausea welling up inside me. I wipe the blur from my eyes and assess my odds as I glare at the three men surrounding me.

  Feeling both mentally and physically sluggish, I roll onto my stomach and try to crawl to the street. With my brain barely functioning the best plan I can come up with is to make it to the open so I can scream for help. If people come running, perhaps I can escape under the cover of the commotion.

  The men don’t move. Instead they all rise to their feet and stand there like storefront mannequins, watching over me like they’re waiting for something to happen. The skin on my knees and elbows tear as I drag my body across the hot, black pavement, but when someone steps in front of me and blocks my exit, a cry lodges in my throat.

  Stone!

  I open my mouth to say his name, to tell him to run, to save himself, but my tongue is so thick I can’t speak. I try to reach him telepathically, but I’m unable to sort through the confusion in my brain long enough to articulate a clear thought.

  The officer hovering beside me turns to see Stone and the world around me tilts. Because in two seconds flat I know they’ll knock the alpha wolf to the ground right alongside me. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let Stone die because of me.

  Except when they all exchange a knowing look, and Stone takes a stand beside the officer, I diligently try to shake the fog from my head and figure out what’s going on.

  The cop gestures with a nod and hands Stone a thick rope. “Secure her legs.”

  My fuzzy glance goes from Stone to the cop back to Stone again and I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. Struggling to pull the veil back on my drug induced mind, I try to scurry away but Stone drops to the ground and grabs my ankles.

  “Pride?”

  As he pushes his way into my rattled thoughts I can feel his tension, his worry.

  “Can you hear me?”

  It’s then that I realize he’s speaking to me privately, his words meant for me and me alone. As he fiddles with the rope, I listen to his blood pound hard.

  Guarded eyes meet mine and give a warning. “Don’t let them know I’m with you.”

  I breathe deep and that when I taste his fear, as thick in the air as the stench of the dumpster behind me. It settles on the back of my tongue and has my alarm bells jangling.

  Stone is afraid.

  “I need you to shift, Pride,” he demands as he restrains my legs. “It’s the only way you can fight this.”

  I force my head up and when I see a flash of possessiveness in his eyes, it occurs to me just how wrong I’ve been about him. Heartache sets my chest on fire and my insides tighten to the point of pain. I close my eyes against the flood of emotion as the truth unfolds before me.

  Stone is on my side.

  He’s always been on my side.

  And all this time he hasn’t just been watching me. He’s been watching over me.

  “We don’t have much time. Do it now.”

  I struggle to morph but as pain erupts inside my weakened body my wolf rebels, completely incapacitated by the poison flowing through my veins.

  I lower my head. “I can’t,” I manage to choke out.

  “You can and you will.”

  I glance at him, my throat aching painfully. “Stone…”

  His eyes go dark when he says, “So that’s it then, kitty-cat? After everything you’ve been though you’re just going to roll over and die?” He makes a tsking sound. “So weak.”

  “I am not weak!” I scream back.

  He smirks at me and under the guise of leashing me, he continues to wrap the rope around my legs. I growl up at him and much to my surprise my canines punch through my gums.

  Stone looks at my fangs and jeers, “Come on kitty-cat, I thought you had more in you than that.” Blood pounds in my ears as I listen to him mock me. “It’s not much wonder these guys caught you. Clearly the master made a mistake in sending out a pup like you.”

  As he taunts me it adds fuel to the fire brewing in my stomach. Hating for anyone to see a weakness in me, I embrace my fury and use it to feed my wolf. My nostrils flare, my blood pumps faster, and my nails begin to extend.

  Pewter dances in his eyes as he coaxes me. “That’s it, kitty-cat.”

  I feel myself growing stronger and when the fog
in my brain begins to dissipate I become aware of what he’s doing. He wants me angry. Provoking me the best way he knows how—by using my biggest fears against me. It’s my anger that feeds my primal side and the only thing that can nullify the effect of the drug is my wolf’s regenerative abilities.

  As my blood pushes the poison through my body, I see a flash in the distance and look past Stone’s shoulders. When I narrow my eyes, I see Logan. But when Logan shakes his head and turns his back on me, the world around me begins to fade.

  I hear a bark of laughter from one of the officers. “Looks like your boyfriend over there is more interested in saving his own ass than yours.”

  As the alley sways, drifting in and out of existence I watch Logan round a corner. In that instant, every old fear I have comes rushing back to the surface.

  Is the officer right?

  Is Logan a wolf who’d save himself in the face of danger, like I first feared?

  My nails grow longer as I catch one last glimpse of Logan before he disappears from my sight.

  The old Pride, the one who thought with her head and not her heart, would have instantly second-guessed Logan’s intentions, would have assumed he is out to save himself.

  But this Pride, the one who’s been through a lifetime of changes over the last few days and is learning to fight with her heart as well as her head knows better than to second-guess the alpha who has always come through for her.

  Once again I think about what my mother said, trust no one but family. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  Because Logan is family.

  The officer gives me a cruel grin, nods to his partner and says, “Go get him.”

  No!

  In that instant, as I think about them hurting Logan, or even Stone, rage races faster through my blood and clears the last of the poison. As the chaos in my mind comes to a screeching halt, a low growl rumbles deep in my throat.

  When my glance locks with Stone’s and I see the upward curve of his mouth, it tells me that he knows.

  He knows I’m back.

  16

  “What the—”

  Before the officer can get the words out, both Stone and I morph. Our clothes rip and the sound pulls the attention of the other officers.