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Silent, brooding, calculating…
I didn’t know what categories I should slide my mother into. I hadn’t really known her at all, had I? She had seemed forever distant, perfectly poised. The only hint of her being chatty was that last trip to the Magnificent Mile. And all of that had been her secretly preparing me to flee on my own. As soon as we were back with the leap, she had returned to her aloof, perfectly controlled self.
“Hey,” Doone asked, dropping my hand to gently hold me by my shoulders. “You okay?”
Knowing my voice would crack if I lied out loud, I nodded.
“You don’t feel okay.” He gave a soft squeeze of both shoulders for emphasis.
The gesture broke me. I leaned forward, felt his arms wrap around me and pull me against his chest. He was so tall, I wasn’t sure my head reached the bottom of his chin. I felt dwarfed…and safe.
And no longer alone.
“She’s dead…or in a cage…” Broken sounds left me as I tried to find words for Henric’s torture pens. “She’s in a cage, cold because there’s no blanket, no clothing beyond her bra and panties—if he even allowed her to keep that much dignity. Her body is cramped and pressed against stainless steel plates with holes no bigger than a quarter.”
I shook violently from head to toe. Doone held me tighter, his lips against my ear as he whispered nonsense words over and over until my shaking subsided.
When I found the strength, I pulled away.
“I don’t need to meet my father,” I said, a surprising firmness to my voice. “I need to save my mother.”
“You’ll do both,” he promised. “But let’s get you cleaned up before you meet Mallory.”
My head jerked up at the name. The whole walk after I showed him the video, I hadn’t asked who he thought my father was. And I hadn’t shown him the false ID my mother gave me. It was in the backpack, but he hadn’t gone all the way to the bottom when he searched, just deep enough to find weapons.
“That’s his name?” I asked. “My father?”
“That’s what he’s called,” Doone agreed.
Extracting myself from the comfort offered by Doone’s embrace, I pulled the ID card from my bag and showed it to him.
He read off the fake name.
“Amanda Mallory. Well, your mother recognized the old wolf when she saw him, no matter how bad the footage or the number of years that have passed. I don’t know if Mallory is his first or last name, but that’s all anyone calls him—well, that,old timer, and, probably most of all,Troublewhen they see him coming.”
His gaze swept over me in a scrutinizing way that caused a second’s concern, but then a broad grin softened his features.
“I’ve only been in Night Falls a few weeks. But I know my ass would be on the road still or worse if Mallory hadn’t stood for me. Not that there aren’t a lot of good were-folk among the pack, but things are still raw after a situation with some dope-addled hyenas in Buckley.”
“And, uh…”
Doone paused and I wondered what could make his cheeks suddenly turn so red. I mean the man had already seen me naked.
“Uh, what?” I prodded.
“Well, let’s go back by the cliff before we go anywhere else. A couple of things might have caught my eye on our climb back up.”
“Things like my bra and panties?” I asked, my face a mask because I had a strong urge to smile even though I should have been scowling at him intentionally leaving me psychologically vulnerable from my half-dressed state.
“Yeah,” he admitted, his gaze darting away from my face as his own grew pink from the top of his hairline down past his chin to the peek of neck I could see at his collar.
We started toward the cliff, no longer holding hands. At least we weren’t holding hands until a bit of loose dirt and rocks had me stumbling. Technically, we still weren’t holding hands after. He just put his hand on my hip and pulled me close.
The move was both protective and totally proprietary.
I loved it.
“You’re certainly nothing like the cat shifters I grew up around,” I said as we reached the cliff’s overhang. "Or the wolves that occasionally pass through the leap's territory."
