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Fury blooms through me, and I snarl.
Yes. I do think. Witches wouldn’t have used a fucking tranq gun, they would’ve used magic. “We have to find her.”
As one, the four of us immediately shift back to our wolf forms. Ridge is unsteady on his feet, but he gives himself a good shake and pushes Archer’s golden wolf away as he tries to help.
You’re too drugged to go with us, I tell him. Don’t be an idiot. Go lie down.
I’m going, Ridge snaps back.
Dare puts his head down near the edge of the cabin’s clearing, sniffing the ground erratically. Then he stiffens, his hackles rising and his nose turning into the wind. His howl pierces the night, and then we’re all racing after him.
We fly through the shadowy forest, following Sable’s scent and the scent of the man who took her. I can tell where she gave up walking and he picked her up to carry her through the woods. Where there were once two scent trails, there's suddenly only one on the ground, with Sable just a hint on the air, already dying away.
Just the thought of that man’s hands on her makes me see red. My jaws itch to rip his throat out.
I’ll fucking destroy him.
The trail takes us out of the woods and onto a small, dirt service trail. These exist throughout the mountains, placed here by the government or by thrill seekers looking to have an adventure in the wilderness. The wolf packs typically avoid them—out of sight, out of mind, and all that. The last thing we need is a thrill seeking hiker with a GoPro on his helmet catching footage of a shifter transforming.
But the scent trail ends at fresh tire tracks. The fucker put Sable in a car and took off with her.
Archer speaks up in my mind. A big white farmhouse on the outskirts of Big Creek. That’s what she said.
Ridge nods once. It’s about twenty miles from here.
Dare shakes himself. You know where we’re going?
I do, Ridge says.
Then lead the way, I tell him, ready to follow him to the ends of the earth to save her. We’ve got your back.
The moon is rising over the mountains as we settle into a full-on sprint, following Ridge on a straight line for more populated areas.
Fear eats me alive. I never knew I could be so attached to someone, but Sable is one of the fiercest, sweetest creatures I’ve ever met.
And there’s not a chance in hell I’ll let anything happen to her.
28
Sable
When I open my eyes, there’s a steady throbbing in my head that makes me think I might explode.
I can place the origin for the pain too. I remember seeing my uncle’s jacked-up truck sitting on a dirt road several miles beyond the cabin. At the sight of it, adrenaline pumped through me and turned me crazy. I knew without a doubt if I let him put me in that truck, I was as good as dead. So I kicked and punched and screamed as if my life depended on it, which it likely did.
Unfortunately, my uncle’s never been one to be squeamish about silencing my screams.
I saw his gun hurtling toward my temple, and that’s the last thing I remember beyond flashes of a hard floor and the rumble of his truck as he drove me away from my only means of protection.
They’ll never find me.
I fight back tears, because I refuse to give in to this situation. Clint won’t break me. I won’t fucking let him. I’ll fight like he’s never seen before—I’ll scream and claw and do whatever I can to hurt him before he kills me.
I recognize the four cold concrete walls around me. The antique metal Bud Light sign hanging by a long, narrow window filled with thick glass. The work bench along the wall covered in tools he rarely touched, and the paint canisters covered in a layer of dust. I know this basement all too well, as the place where I was punished when he felt like I needed an extra heavy hand.
I’m on my side, facing the work bench with the vises he’s used on me more than once. My arms are tied in front of me with duct tape, but he didn’t bother with my legs. The realization sends me reeling.
How many times have I just let him hurt me? How often did I just lie there and take it, to make him think I don’t need to be fully tied up now?
