Page 49 of Fat Enemy Mate

I am about to lose her. I haven't even told her. I was too much of a coward to risk rejection, and now I might lose the chance.

But that isn’t what she needs from me right now, so I push it down. I glance around the room, at everyone who’s working hard to find the patrol van, and try to focus my wolf. Whether she wants me or not, if I love her, the only thing that matters is getting her back.

The radio on the table crackles.

"All units, all units," it’s Dylan on the eastern line. "Patrol van, plate Tango three eight seven, just sighted on the pass road heading north past the second cattle grid. They seem to have pulled up near the fork toward the high pass. We’re coming down the ridge road, but have a clear line of sight, so going to try and cut across."

"Pass road, now," I say. "Everyone in the trucks. Nick, can you follow up with Anya when they get here?"

"Yes, go," Nick says.

We are out the door and on the road quicker than I have ever moved before. Connor’s driving while I stay on the radio with Dylan, and we hit the mountain road hard.

"Drive, Connor," I tell him.

"I am driving, Wilf." He says.

"Drive faster," I tell him, and he somehow manages to drive even faster.

Chapter 22 - Lara

I come round to my head hurting in a way that instantly reminds me exactly why and how I’ve been hurt, but it takes me a few more minutes to work out where I am.

I'm lying on my side, but the surface under me isn’t the ground of the path; it's the ribbed plastic floor of a van. I don’t think we’re moving. The vibrations coming through the floor tell me the engine is just idling; we’re not moving. My mouth feels dry, and my hair is stuck to the side of my face with something tacky, and I’m pretty sure it’s blood. I remember being hit, or perhaps hitting the ground, so that makes sense. At least I’m conscious.

It’s almost completely dark except for a thin strip of light at the top of the rear door, but my eyes adjust slowly, and I look around; it’s empty but clean, and I run my hands around trying to find something to use for a weapon. I study the light coming through the small gap and consider that at least it’s still light, so I can’t have been out for too long; perhaps the van is still in Silvercreek. I try to sit up, but the pain in my head gets worse, so I stay lying down and just listen.

There are voices outside. Two men must be standing very close to the van. Their voices are low but not a whisper, and they seem to be pacing. I know shifters’ hearing is acute, so I still my breathing as best as I can, because if they think I’m still unconscious, they’re more likely to leave me alone, and I need time to figure out what is going on.

"How long till he gets here?" one of them asks.

"Twenty minutes," the other replies. "He said there were patrol cars all over the road, so they had to reroute, but they’ll be here."

"Madelina with him?" The first one asks.

"Yeah, she's with him." He replies.

The boots move away from the van, and I let my breathing even out more naturally. The pain in my head is settling a little, not enough to want to stand on, but enough that moving won't put me flat.

I think about Wilf.

I shouldn't, because thinking about Wilf isn't going to be what gets me out of this van, but I do anyway. I think about him in his kitchen this morning, offering me toast, and looking at me in a way that was all heat but no words. I think about him telling me to come back to the hall when I was ready and how it made me feel strangely at home in Silvercreek, as though I was just out for a walk on a normal day, in a normal town, with someone waiting for me.

He doesn't know I'm gone yet, or maybe he does. Skylar and Fern might have heard me scream. I wasn’t that far from the clinic, and they would call Connor. Or perhaps someone else saw what was happening and raised the alarm. I think Wilf would try to save me; in fact, I’m certain of it. And the rest of the pack would want to hunt these rogues down, so I’m sure they’re looking for the van. I find myself wondering if Wilf is worried. Is he thinking about me the way I’m thinking about him? I force myself to stop drifting into what-ifs and focus on the situation in front of me. I’m going to have to get myself out of this; I can’t rely on anyone else.

I finally sit up properly and shuffle as quietly as I can to the small crack along the back door. I look through and allow my eyes to focus. We’re parked somewhere by the side of a road, and I look out at the trees and the sweeping view beyond down into the valley. We’re obviously up quite high, perhaps onthe mountain pass. I’ve studied the map of Silvercreek at Wilf’s house, and I know all the main roads out of here. This isn’t the valley, and I don’t think it’s the road that leads back toward the ridge and Wilf’s property, so I think it’s most likely the northern road.

North. But what if Wilf and the others are searching one of the other roads?

I hear a truck coming up the road and hold my breath for some sign that it might be one of the Silvercreek patrols, but the men don’t respond with fear, and my heart sinks as I hear one of the front doors slamming and footsteps before one of them says, "That'll be them," and the other replies, "About damn time."

The truck pulls in close, and I hear boots on the ground.

"Where is she?" a new voice asks.

It's deeper than the other two and much calmer, more authoritative, and my heart sinks further.

"Still in the back, boss," the first rogue replies. "She hasn't made a sound since we put her in."