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After heading for the bathroom and giving myself a moment to enjoy real plumbing again, I took a quick shower. I’d have loved to stay for hours under that spray but my stomach was so empty I was nauseous.
With a deep breath and a small internal pep talk, I walked out of the room. A man was sitting barely awake at the security desk.
“Hello,” I called out. He snapped his head up, eyes wide as he broke out of his trance of boredom.
“You’re awake. How are you feeling?” he asked. “Shit. I’m sorry. Introductions. I’m Grant, the tracker for this pack.”
“Vanya,” I answered his unspoken question. “I heard I could get some food here?”
“Yeah, let me call Zoey and have her come escort you, she said you seemed more comfortable with that,” he said, grabbing his phone and sending a quick text.
“Is she in charge?” I asked. He eyed me curiously for a second but nodded.
“Yeah, she’s our alpha, her dad was the alpha before that,” he explained. “It’s rare but she’s one of the best I’ve seen.”
“That’s awesome,” I said, even more at ease now. “I’ve seen enough shitty packs to be able to agree with that already.”
He shook his head in agreement, a darkness passing through his green eyes. His dirty-blond hair was piled into a bun on top of his head and a bandanna was wrapped like a headband around his head. He was well built, and I wondered if that was the norm for their trackers. All the ones I’ve known have been lean and slim since it was easier to move undetected.
A soft knock had us both turning to see Zoey coming in with a platter of food in her hands. She smiled softly at me as she sat it on their conference table.
“Dig in. I assumed you had been days without food as well and packed it full,” she explained.
“I’ve had food… but we don’t talk about what happens when a wolf hunts.” I shuddered at the reminder of raw animal fur and blood but it had kept me alive out there.
“Survival is survival,” she reassured me. “Want to catch us up to speed?”
“You start,” I said as I stabbed the entire steak, foregoing my knife and tearing a bite off with my teeth like a savage. I had half of it gone before she’d begun but neither of them judged my barbaric eating.
“One of our scouts left to do a normal round a few weeks ago and she never came back. There was another wolf’s scent around hers at one point when we followed the route to scent for her, but he was unfamiliar. Even stranger, all of our territory markers were cleared,” she explained. My heart broke for them because I knew exactly what she was talking about, he’d done the same to the Bluffs before I arrived. If it wasn’t me he was after, I had a feeling he would have found someone. Though now that I knew he had Meira, I wasn’t sure if that was true. He was a mystery and one led by greed. A volatile combination.
“Sounds like the same man after me. I shouldn’t stay long, he’s relentless,” I admitted. “I’ll leave at daylight. I won’t bring harm to your home.”
“We have defenses,” she reassured.
“So did my pack, and we were aware he was after me, yet here I am,” I countered.
“Well let’s start with your story then,” she said in a soothing tone. I could see she wasn’t giving in, but seeking facts, and that I could respect. So I told them everything, from our attack, to Torryn’s lies, to the confrontation at the bar and the deaths, then the Bluffs. Everything up to being taken and going on the run. If they were going to argue with me about leaving, they needed the full details.
“So it’s the same tracker,” she said, horrified. “And that girl, Ava?”
“Said they’re working with witches. He’s got runes that allow him to stun, camouflage himself, blow things up, and apparently teleportation of some sort, because he moved me straight across the fucking country in seconds,” I explained.
“What the actual fuck,” Grant breathed out. “How do we fight that?”
“With allies,” she said. “We’re clearly not the only ones who have lost someone. We knew the old packs were needing to be disbanded, but this is so much worse.”
“It is,” I sighed. “My pack was disconnected but not brutal. Whoever has Meira and had Ava? They are.”
“You should call your pack,” she said, pulling out a phone and sliding it to me. I glanced at it, unsure what to try, who to trust in town.
Embarrassment had my cheeks flushed. “I don’t know their numbers by heart.”
“Then maybe call the sheriff and have them go to them? Report yourself as a missing person and they can’t ignore it,” she countered without a hint of judgment. I loved how practical her mind was. When we attacked, I hoped they were willing to join us, and now knowing their story, I knew that was a strong possibility.
“The tracker might kill them,” I said, worried. “But I have to call.”
“You do,” she agreed. “He’s less likely to attack an official.”
