My chest pinches and releases at the same time. His words settle something in me. Not everything, but enough.
I nod, blinking fast, and lean back against the side wall of the van.
Still holding his hand.
Still trembling.
Up North
Rhett
Six fucking days.That’s how long it took us to get across the goddamn border.
It didn’t help that we had to ditch Brock’s van near Cassenville when the piece of shit broke down and refused to start again. Thankfully, I brought all the cash from my safe back home, so we managed to buy a replacement. The guy at the tiny dealership didn’t even blink when I told him I’d lost my ID. If anything, he seemed used to selling cars for cash—no questions asked.
I guess that’s to be expected this close to the border.
The new car didn’t fit all of us, which meant saying goodbye to Brock and Melissa. I tried to shove some cash at them, and of course, Brock protested at least a dozen times. Eventually, he took it, then promised to swing by our apartment and bring a few more of our things once everything settled.
Myrick loudly claimed he didn’t need anything—butthe second Autry turned her back, he leaned in and asked Brock to bring the espresso maker.
But we’re finally almost there.
Our new home.
“How did you find this place?” Oli asks as the SUV jolts over a rough cut of road. If you can even call it a road. It’s more like a suggestion—half-covered in wild grass and creeping underbrush, the kind of place people forget exists.
“I bought it last year.”
Oli’s eyes go wide. “Aren’t you worried that someone will come here looking for us? I know that the laws here are pretty shit, but Donall could?—”
“No one knows about this place,” I say. “I bought it through a shell account.” I glance in the rearview mirror, looking at Myrick. He’s reaching over Charlie in the middle, trying to check on Autry, not listening. “After Jason.”
A flash of understanding moves through Oli’s eyes. I don’t have to say out loud that I was planning on killing Jason after what he did to Myrick. That I tried like hell to track him down, drag him up here, and make him pay. Oli knows. Sadly, I found out a few months later that he died in a bar fight. I never got my revenge.
A low, strangled sound from the backseat draws my attention.
I glance in the mirror again at Autry.
She’s curled into the door, jaw clenched and her body trembling despite the sweat beading at her temples. Her scent is thicker now—undeniable. Rich and heady, like crushed sugared-icing and sharp lemon citrus. I don't smell slick yet, but soon.
Charlie says it’s pre-heat, but I think she’sinheat.
Maybe the early stages, maybe something in between,but her body’s heading there whether she wants to admit it or not.
“I’m not in heat,” Autry grits out, like she can read my mind. “I just don’t feel good.”
Charlie shakes his head like he wants to scold her, but he keeps his mouth shut. Myrick, on the other hand, is trying not to panic. He has one hand on her knee like he can hold her together through sheer force of will.
Autry groans and the air shifts a touch sweeter.
Oli turns to me, voice low. “We need to get her inside. Soon.”
“I know.”
The tires thump over a hidden tree root and Autry whimpers, curling tighter.
“You’re not fine,” Charlie murmurs, gently wiping the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “It’s okay to admit you need tending to,” he says softly. “Rhett can pull over. We can?—”
