JULIET
“You should’ve driven straightthrough town.”
“And have someone see what’s in my back seat at a stoplight? Or have someone clock my license plate? No thanks.”
“Would’ve been quicker. This roundabout way is slowing us down. Besides, they’ll know who took her. We just need to get back to my territory.”
“I live there too.”
“It’s different for you. Territory means something to us.”
“I hate when you sayus, like I’m not in this shit with you right now.”
I know both those voices, and neither one helps make my headache go away.
Cory and his human half-brother, Larson.
Shit.
If there was a list of the ways I’d prefer to be woken up, this would be at the absolute bottom. My mind struggles to make sense of how I ended up in this situation. Slowly, memories resurface.
Baking in my kitchen.
A sound at the back door.
Cory.
I barely stop myself from groaning, realizing at the last second that it’s better if they don’t know I’m awake.
Instead, I keep my eyes shut, breathe through my pain and panic, and take stock of my situation.
The world bumps and sways around me, and something cold and metal digs into my back. Pair that with Larson worried about stoplights, I’m guessing I’m in the back seat of his truck.
In addition to the throbbing at the back of my head, my mouth feels weird. I realize there’s duct tape plastered over my lips.
Maybe I can rip the tape off and scream for help.
But as I carefully shift my hands, I realize something holds them immobile.
Risking the smallest crack of my eyelids, I discover my guess about the truck was right. Glancing down, I fight another urge to moan.
My hands are covered in duct tape. And not just a few wraps around my wrists. No, they’ve gone full-on mitten level with the stuff. My hands exist inside a sticky silver ball.
Maybe if my mouth were free, I’d be able to bite through the stuff. I work my jaw, feeling my saliva loosen the adhesive, just slightly. Enough for me to work my lower lip, then lower teeth, just past the edge of the tape.
That’s all I can get, and it’s not enough to do anything other than let out a muffled sound of protest. But I keep quiet. I don’t want to show my hand before I have a chance to play it.
“How long before you think they’ll find out?” Larson asks, his voice tight with nerves.
Again, using my lashes to shield my gaze, I take in the two men.
Larson has always been average. Average height, average build, nondescript, run-of-the-mill brown hair. From my angle, doesn’t look like much has changed.
The only thing that has ever made Larson stand out is the fact that he’s brothers with Cory. Being so closely related to a pack member, especially such a high-ranking one, gave Larson a boost in Bear Valley.
I’d also guess he’s dealt with years of barely suppressed jealousy. Cory is tall, movie-star handsome with styled blond hair. He’s also ripped and well endowed—facts currently on display as he sits naked in the front seat.
Still, I know that no matter how envious Larson is of his brother, he’d never cross him.
