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Unless more of the pack were waiting with a change of clothes for him.
No, he had to be alone. If there were more of the pack in the parking lot, I wouldn’t have left it. Evading one wolf is lucky, but two? Impossible.
As the bus pulls into the road, I start to breathe a little easier because I’m not seeing him. Maybe it wasn’t him at all. It could’ve just been someone who—
A blue stare pierces my heart.
Standing between two cars at the very edge of the hospital parking lot is Nathan, his eyes on me, a cell phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder.
His lips are moving, but it doesn’t matter that I can’t read lips, I know who he’s on the phone with and I know what he will be telling them.
Rylan.
Yes, I found her. She’s alive. Don’t worry, I’ll get her.
And he’s right. As Rylan’s best hunter, the one he sends on his errands, Nathan has never failed to bring back whatever thing Rylan sent him for.
This time, that thing is me.
8
SAIGE
“Hey, miss!”
“Miss!”
A hand lands on my shoulder, and I shriek, flinging myself away. Pressed against the bus window, my heart gallops a million miles an hour.
An exasperated-looking bus driver sighs. “Look, you’ve been on this bus for hours. We’re at the last stop. You have to get off.”
I blink at him.
What?
“I just got on,” I murmur because IknowI did.
I sat down, and then Nathan was staring at me from outside on the phone with Rylan.
The bus driver snorts. “Yeah, right. Whatever you’ve been drinking, it’s…” His gaze dips and his voice trails off. When it does, I glance down too and take in my rumpled hospital gown.
I lift my head and find him staring at me, his eyes watchful as his hand gropes for a small black radio clipped to his belt. “Does the hospital know you’re out? Should you—”
I jump to my feet, knocking him aside as I hurtle down the empty bus, his yell trailing me as I stab at a red button just above the stairs. The doors unfold and I leap, hitting the ground running.Literally.
Halfway down a darkened street, it hits me I have no idea where I am.
After casting an anxious glance behind me to make sure the bus driver isn’t following, I slow at the sight of him leaning out of the open bus door, his eyes on me.
He takes a step down and I jerk my head back around, walking faster.
On the other side of the road, bright lights spill out into the dark streets from the bars and restaurants. But on this side, steps lead up to red brick townhouses where inaudible murmurs, laughter, music, and food drift down toward me.
I’ve been walking for ten minutes before I realize I’m crying.
I manage another five minutes before I have to stop because I’m sobbing so hard that I can’t breathe.
A man who smells like piss and cider veers toward me. I flatten myself against the wall, half-blinded by fear and tears, and the man, chuckling to himself, wanders off, his weaving so bad that he comes dangerously close to tipping into the road.
