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Chapter Three
Willow
Present Day
Ihunch lower behind the row of massive garbage cans, breathing through my nose to blunt the stink, then holding my breath as two men pass by, speaking rapidly in a language I can’t understand.
They’re shifters, too, but not members of the North Star pack. They’re employees of the garbage company that services the tower, and probably won’t report me if they find me hiding out in the sub-basement. But they’ll certainly be curious.
I can’t afford to inspire curiosity right now.
Or attract attention.
Maxim could find my “go fuck yourself” note any minute, and Diana and I have to get out of the building before that happens.
“Where are you, Diana?” I mutter, my heart pounding as I peek over the edge of the giant blue bins toward the industrial elevator on the other side of the wide, open garage space.
But there’s still no sign of her, and the three trucks have finished loading and—one by one—are rumbling to life. If we don’t get in one soon, our plan will fail. We’ll be trapped here and forced to face Maxim’s wrath.
He’s going to be livid when he reads my note—no doubt in my mind.
But that’s fine.
Let him get angry and stay angry.
Let him hate me as much as I hate him.
I do hate him, but I also hate myself for being so damned trusting and optimistic and just plain stupid.
I should have known better than to let my guard down around Maxim Thorn for a second, even if it did seem like he was starting to have feelings for me, too.
But Maxim doesn’t have feelings. He has plans and schemes and tactical maneuvers planned far in advance. Maxim is all about the end game and he doesn’t give a damn who he hurts in the process.
My hand drops to hover over my belly. I send out another silent prayer to any gods that might be listening, begging them to let Maxim fail this time.
Please, don’t let me be pregnant…
Please…
I close my eyes, willing any sperm still swimming around inside of me to shrivel and die. Human sperm can remain active for as long as forty-eight hours and shifter sperm even longer, so there’s a chance I’m not pregnant yet, but will be soon, if I don’t get to a pharmacy for a morning-after pill.
Another reason I have to get on one of those trucks…
I have to go—with or without Diana.
I’m bracing myself to dart from behind the bins, climb up the ladder at the back of the closest truck, and jump into the trash alone when a slim hand comes to rest on my shoulder beside my backpack strap. Another clamps down over my mouth, stifling the scream that bursts from my throat.
“Sorry, it’s just me,” Diana hisses from behind me.
I shift on my toes, staying in a squat as I turn to her with wide eyes and a rush of breath. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“I had to come down through the dumbwaiter in the cafeteria kitchen,” she says, taking my hand. “Maxim already has people watching the stairs and the elevators. We have to get out of here now, Willow, or we aren’t getting out at all.”
I swallow past the knot forming in my throat. “Let’s go. I’m ready.”
“Me, too,” she says, squeezing my fingers. “Follow me, I have an idea how to make it out without getting covered in garbage.”
Nodding, I hitch my backpack firmly onto both shoulders and tail her out from behind the bins. We both stay hunched over, hopefully avoiding being spotted in the truck drivers’ rearview mirrors as we scurry to the back of the closest vehicle.
