by Bella Jacobs
“Good.” Atlas rests a hand on Clara’s forehead. “And never speak a word of your time here, or I’ll know about it. You’ll be followed, observed. You understand that, don’t you, darling?”
She nods faster, sending fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.
“And if you begin to betray me, you won’t live to finish the job.” He smiles, a glint in his eyes that makes it clear he’d enjoy an excuse to kill Clara all over again.
She isn’t safe, not even close. I know it, and she knows it.
And as she hurries away, presumably to pack her things and run for the nearest portal to the outside world, she’s crying so hard we can hear her for a solid minute after she’s left the room, her sobs echoing down the marble halls.
“Don’t worry, Wren, I’m a man of my word,” Atlas says, circling back around his desk. “As long as Clara does as she’s promised, she’ll live a full and happy life. That’s her Kin Gift, you know. When she touches people, she makes them happy.”
Except for him. Atlas is too warped to be capable of experiencing anything close to healthy emotion….
He eases down into his massive chair with a sigh. “Now, let’s speak of more pleasant things. Like your wedding gown.” He shifts the papers on the center of the desk, revealing three drawings that are artwork in their own right. “Blue, red, or the traditional white? The blue would be lovely with your eyes, but I’m partial to red myself. It’s such a…primal color.”
I want to glance at the floor to see if any of Clara’s blood is still staining the carpet. To see if it’s the same color as the sleek gown in Atlas’s drawing. But I don’t.
I don’t turn, and I don’t let my fear, horror, or revulsion at the thought of becoming Atlas’s bride show on my face.
I smile and motion toward the middle drawing. “Then let’s do the red. I want you to be happy.”
For now. I want him happy until the day I’m ready to make him very unhappy.
As he motions to the chair beside him and I settle in to plan my wedding to a monster, I know that day can’t come soon enough.
Chapter 15
Luke
My gut never lies.
At least, it never used to.
But as I enter my fourth day of tracking with Clover, I’m starting to doubt myself.
Maybe this wasn’t the right call. Maybe I should have given her the slip and headed out on my own to look for Dust and the others.
One thing I know for sure—there isn’t time to waste. Wren is in trouble. I may be vision-blind and supernaturally numb, but I know that she’s not okay. If she were, she would have found me by now.
Still, I refuse to let the possibility that she’s dead enter my thoughts. I only had one night with her. One fucking night with the woman who has become my home, my best friend, my everything. It’s not nearly enough.
So I’m staying put, doubling down on my instinct, hoping it won’t fail me now, when I need it more than ever.
“This could be it.” Clover peeks around the dumpster where we’re taking cover, lifting her nose into the air. As she does, the tip goes bright, bunny-rabbit pink. She has a habit of going part kin in a way that reminds me of Creedence.
She reminds me of Creedence in a lot of ways, actually. Including how good she is at lying. She’s got me doubting my own instincts, just like Creedence. The difference, of course, is that the lynx is a decent human being, not a Kin Born spy who shot herself in the shoulder in order to gain my trust and protection.
The question I still can’t answer is why. The Kin Born have to know I was made a shifter, not born one. So why not gun me down in the square with the rest of the lab-made people they slaughtered? Why give me an undercover operative and task her with running me on a wild goose chase?
So far, I can’t make sense of it.
Because it doesn’t make sense. You’ve finally lost it, dude, finally let the paranoia get so big it’s driven you right off the deep end.
Clover turns back to me, nose going human again. “It smells like your friend has been here. Maybe not recently, but not that long ago, either. We’re getting closer, I can feel it!” She smiles, a wide, guileless grin that is either completely genuine or one of the most cunning tools in her arsenal.
I’ll find out soon enough. I’m done waiting for Miss Apple Blossom to lay her cards on the table. It’s time to force her hand.
Right after we break into this abandoned cereal factory, where I’m absolutely sure Dust has not been seeking shelter, but I’ve got no way to prove it. My nose isn’t animal-sensitive in my human form, and my wolf isn’t a reliable enough animal form for me to risk shifting. Even if it were, I’m not going to shift for the first time in seven years in front of this girl. There’s still a chance—a slight one—that she’s an innocent.
Even if she’s not, I don’t want to rip her limb from limb.
Maybe it’s the mate bond with Wren exerting a gentling effect on my personality. Or maybe it’s the fact that Clover Apple Blossom is so damned cute and personable that no matter how damning the angle of that shot and bruising on her right hand are, it’s still hard to believe she’s a heartless murderer.
But I was cute once, too, back when I was a junior gang banger being groomed by the older boys. At eleven I was still a tiny thing with big brown eyes and lashes for days. The sweet old ladies I asked for directions to my abuela’s house with tears in my eyes never suspected I was stealing their wallet with my one hand while they pressed sweets and tissues into my other.
“Then let’s go.” I return Clover’s grin as I nod toward the building. “Ladies first.”
Her eyes light up. “Really? You’re letting me take point this time?”
I incline my head. “You’re smart and fast. I trust you to get yourself out of the way if there’s trouble.”
“Or I could stay and help you fight,” she says, casting a pointed glance at the twin pieces sticking out of the chest holster I liberated from a gun shop early yesterday. “I told you, I know how to use a gun. I was raised in the country, and unlike the rest of my sisters, I’m not a vegetarian.”
“A meat-eating bunny.” I shake my head in mock judgment. “You little monster.”
“What’s monstrous is being forced to eat Brussels sprouts for every meal for a week because your brother forgot to close the garden gate and deer got in overnight and ate all the good vegetables.” She props a hand on her hip as she tosses her long hair over one shoulder. “I mean, sprouts are good and all, but by day three, striking a match indoors would have blown up our entire house. The gas was that epic.”
I laugh as I nudge an elbow into her ribs and say, “Lead on, then, carnivore,” keeping the playful vibe going even as I scan the surrounding area again and again, looking for signs of an ambush.
But the large parking lot, full of weeds pushing up through the cracked asphalt, appears abandoned, and the line of sickly-looking trees behind us is too sparse to offer a sniper cover. The roof of the cereal factory seems similarly deserted. So unless the Kin Born are waiting inside, this is just another stall tactic, something to keep me busy until…
Until what?
That’s the million-dollar question.
Clover hurries across the graying concrete, ducking into the shelter of a loading dock before hoisting herself up and onto the platform at the end with easy grace. After a shift into her bunny form and a solid twelve hours of sleep, Clover shifted back into her human body with no sign of the gunshot wound or bruised hand. If I hadn’t gotten a close look at it on day one, I might have missed the signs. I might have ditched this girl, or actually decided to trust her.
The second option is unlikely, but as we enter the cereal factory, scaring some mice nibbling on the remains of a half-eaten burger next to a dingy sleeping bag on the ground near the door, I wonder if she might have been able to convince me. Her sad sigh at the sight of the bedroll and soft, “That’s so sad. Someone must be sleeping here to get out of the cold,” reminds me so
much of Wren that there would have been a chance.
A chance I would have bought that she was another fearless, good-hearted young woman looking to help save the world.
A chance I would have turned my back on her.
A chance I wouldn’t have noticed the trap she’s set.
It’s clever—a thin trip line she subtly, but deliberately, steps over as we move into the next room—but I see it.
I pause, hands propped on my hips as she moves toward what was once a long automated assembly line. There are machines everywhere—spaced out and bridged by the dusty conveyor belt, suspended from the ceiling or on the ground with their thick cords hanging sadly around their hulking metallic shoulders like unwashed hair.
There’s so much going on it would be easy to miss the net hidden beneath the pile of flattened cardboard boxes, poised to scoop up the unlucky person who activates the snare.
I watch Clover sway deeper into the space, her shoulders relaxed, her arms swinging easy at her sides, nothing in her posture to indicate she’s worried about bad guys lurking in the shadows or the man behind her falling into her trap.
But I’m all but certain now.
“I think I heard something,” I say softly, jabbing a thumb over my shoulder. “I’m going to go check it out.”
“Wait.” She spins to face me, motioning urgently with one hand as she adds in a whisper, “No, there’s something this way. I’m positive. My nose never lies.”
I pause, pretending to be torn. “Neither does my gut, and it’s screaming that way.”
She shakes her head, her eyes glittering. “Follow me, Luke. I promise you won’t be sorry. We’re going to find your friends. Today. I’m sure of it.”
“Are you?” I draw my gun in one smooth, easy motion, aiming at her chest.
Clover goes completely still. “What are you doing?” Her tone is shocked, hurt even, but her eyes are steady and calm, looking for an opening, her moment to fight or flee.
“Just speeding things along.” I smile as I curl my fingers. “Back toward me, nice and slow, and make sure you hit the trip this time, okay?”
“What?” Her hands ball into fists at her sides. She doesn’t move; I don’t either, except to flip the safety off my gun.
“Back this way. I want to see what you had planned for me in action, Clover. Were you gonna catch? Or kill?”
Her lower lip begins to tremble. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then let me show you. Start walking toward me. Your trap will take care of the stopping.”
“I’m just trying to help you find your friends.” She takes a step in the wrong direction, and I shift my aim, firing a shot at her good shoulder, getting close enough to shred the fabric of her jean jacket, stopping my little traitor in her tracks.
“Last chance, Miss Blossom.” I hold her gaze, unblinking. “Come crawl into the mess you made or start talking.”
“About what?” she asks, turning her head until she’s studying me from the corner of her eyes.
“About the Kin Born,” I say, taking a calculated risk. She could be working for someone else, but I’ve found that the most obvious answer is usually the right one. “Why are you guys keeping me alive?”
Her features transform, the sweet mask falling away as her gaze goes hard, confirming my suspicions and sending a whiff of sadness through me at the same time. I wanted to be wrong this time, but I wasn’t. “I told my handlers I was bringing you here. If you kill me, they’ll know who did it, and they’ll make you sorry.”
I shrug, keeping the gun aimed at her heart. “I’m already sorry. You wasted my time. So why the wild goose chase? I’ve been trying to figure it out since I realized you shot yourself in the shoulder, but I can’t find a theory that holds water. Why try to tranquilize me at the hotel and then send a pretty girl to give me the run around? It doesn’t make sense.”
She sniffs, shrugging an almost too-cool shoulder, making me think she didn’t know she was playing second string. “I’m not telling you anything. Except that you’re fucked. You might as well walk into that net. Our people are going to get to you, sooner or later.” She sways a step closer, hands sliding up to rest on her hips. “Or, we could keep hanging out. I promise, kicking it with me is a lot more fun than hanging in a jail cell until the powers that be figure out what they want to do with you.” She teases a finger beneath the waistband of her jeans. “And we could have some real fun now that I don’t have to pretend to be a sweet little farm girl. I’ve never fucked a lab rat before. Could be fun.”
I don’t dignify the offer with a response. “Why do they want to lock me up? Why not kill me, the way you killed the people at the courthouse?”
“Not people. Science experiments gone wrong. Dilbert was just putting the poor things out of their misery.” She shakes her head. “And then you came out, guns blazing, playing hero. No one expected that. I was supposed to go to you, injured and in need of protection, get you to trust me, and then keep you out of trouble while the higher-ups figured out whether they needed you alive or not. They figured I had what it takes to keep you…distracted.” She drags fingertips across her bare stomach, grin stretching wider. “But you proved them wrong. You’re totally into your girl. It’s sweet. I mean, obviously a lab rat can’t really understand what it’s like to form a mate bond, but it’s cute that you think you do. Like a dog who decides it’s a human because its owner dresses it up in a sweater before taking it out for a walk.”
I return her smile. “Speaking of walks. Why don’t you take one? Right this way. Let’s test your set up. See if you’re as good at setting traps as you are at bullshit.”
She shakes her head. “Not going to happen, Luke. You’ll have to kill me. Kin Born don’t submit to capture. We’ve got too much pride.”
“But not too much pride to whore out a kid because her boss thinks her pussy’s a good distraction for a lab-made piece of shit?”
I’ve hit a nerve, I can tell, even though she tosses her hair over her shoulder with a flirty bob of her head. “I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-three, not nineteen. I lied about that, too. Figured you’d find it easier to trust me if you thought I was younger. But I underestimated your suspicious nature. You really should try to trust people, you know. Most of them aren’t lying.”
There’s a sound from the parking lot, a crackle like wheels rolling over gravel, but I don’t turn or take my eyes—or my gun—off of Clover. My instincts insist that whoever’s here doesn’t mean any harm.
At least not to me.
“Better run,” Clover says. “Those are my people, here to kick your ass. I’d bet my hand on it.”
“That’s a bet you’d lose, kid.” The feminine voice behind me is instantly familiar. It’s Leda. Kite’s sister, which hopefully means Kite isn’t far behind.
“You need backup, Luke?” Kite asks, sending a wave of relief rushing though me. “Or you got this under control?”
“I’ll take a hand,” I say. “Otherwise, I’m going to have to shoot her. She’s refusing to play nice. Threatening to make a run for it.”
“Go ahead. Run.” Dust steps out from behind a grimy piece of equipment just beyond Clover, his own gun in hand. “I’m not as good a shot as Luke, but I never miss at close range.”
“Fuck you,” Clover says, her voice trembling as her gaze flicks between us, the knowledge that she’s trapped settling in. “My brother is a unit commander. Take me and he’ll end every last one of you. He won’t care who wants you alive or why.”
“Atlas wanted to take us alive,” Kite says, coming to stand beside me. “Allegedly he’s figured out a way to reverse the mate bond.”
I nod, one of the missing pieces falling into place. “So that’s why this one was keeping me around. And why a guy tried to tranq me at the hotel.”
Leda appears on my other side. “Sounds like we’ve got a lot to discuss. But first, what to do with this one…”
“Take her with us,” I say, “ an
d interrogate her later. She’ll break under pressure.”
“I will not,” Clover shouts, fingers forming claws at her sides as Dust closes in on her from behind.
“Watch out for the trip wire,” I warn.
“Already on my radar, but thanks,” Dust says with a smile. “Good to see you, Luke. Really good.”
“Ditto.” And it is. Even though I get the feeling Wren and Creedence aren’t waiting back at a hotel room for us.
We’re still in deep shit, no doubt, but now we’re three instead of one.
Chapter 16
Dust
Even a few weeks ago, I would have been happy to ditch Luke for another wolf—any other wolf. Now, I’m ridiculously happy to be sitting across from the cranky bastard at a grungy diner, watching him shovel eggs and bacon into his face.
The fact that he brings an extra punch of supernatural energy with him doesn’t hurt. Now that he’s back in our orbit, I’m healing faster and my Kin Gift has kicked up another notch, making it relatively easy to conceal the three of us. To the other patrons and staff, it appears that Leda is sitting alone with her cell and an epic spread she’s making disappear at an alarming rate.
Leda isn’t on Atlas’s radar—at least not that we know of—and after the long drive into town and the search for Luke, we’re all starved.
The fact that we needed to eat was the one thing we could all agree on.
“I don’t like it,” Leda says, her cell held to her ear. “This girl is smart and well trained. She’s not going to give up the location of their headquarters near Banff or anything else without a fight. And we don’t have time for more effective interrogation techniques.”
“Torture works,” Luke says, keeping his voice low. “I’ve seen it. Cut off a finger or two and most people start talking real quick.”
“But you can’t trust that they’re telling the truth,” Leda says, clashing with Luke, as usual. “Clover could sell us a load of bullshit, and by the time we smelled the stink, Wren and Creedence could be dead.”