“Hurt.”
“It hurts, buddy, but remember what I told ya, nothing lasts!”
It takes me forever to claw out a piece of concrete and I have some serious respect for Logan when I finally get enough space to shove a portion of the door back.
That male made making that hole look like a piece of cake. The only cake I see is blood on my hands where parts of my claws ripped away from my fingers.
Ignoring it, I push a leg through the thin gap and out into the passage, squeezing myself into the space while my friend watches and shakes his head, as if curious about my intentions.
It hurts my boobs and ass to push through, but I do it, not caring if I rip nipple at this point because my freedom is so near right now I can taste. When I’m out and standing in the passage, I check right to see a thick metal door at the end with no lock or handle.
Lync whines, having now understood my goal and presses himself to the bars, his hand reaching through towards me. I go to him, my fear of him non-existent and take his hand in mine, kissing the hairy, scarred knuckles gently.
“Free.”
I want to cry, knowing that I’m leaving him behind, this beast who is my only friend, a male who is trapped inside himself as surely as he’s trapped inside this cell. If I could, I would break him out and run with him, take him somewhere where no one can judge him or lock him away.
If I could, I would do so many things, I think sadly, swallowing the lump in my throat when he repeats the word.
“Not free, Lync. I’m never free, but I can stay alive,” I tell him, kissing his hand again, squeezing his between both of mine as my eyes go wet. “Don’t stay in here forever, my friend. There’s always life, always a chance for more. Don’t let anyone take it from you and never let them decide.”
“Go?”
“Yes. I have to go before he comes back here and sees my little attempt at masonry.” I giggle, looking at the mess I made.
“Go.”
This time it’s not a question, and I lean in to kiss his cheek, the hairy pelt tickling my lips as tears spill free.
I leave without another word and jog down to the door, laughing silently when I find it unlocked—I don’t think it’s luck, just Logan’s temper at play here—but I thank God anyway and creep into the little alcove where the stairs go up towards a basement.
Sneaking up the stairs as silently as possible, I hold my breath, praying and tensing at every small sound from above, my heart galloping in my chest.
I reach the basement, the clean space dark and blessedly empty. From here I need to go up again because there are no windows, not that I blame Nick. Basement windows are a dangerous thing and stupid besides.
These stairs are easier to go up because there are so few of them, and from personal experience, I know they lead into and alcove beneath the stairs.
This door is where I pause, taking a deep breath before I open it a crack and peek out into the foyer. There is no one around, no sound, nothing, so I slide out quietly and plaster my back to the side of the stairs, closing my eyes when a sound reaches me.
“Don’t get angry, honey. Males are like this. They go mad when their female is with young.”
“He’s happy about the baby, but he’s driving me nuts! I can’t believe a man can become so temperamental. He won’t even let me walk out the door for fear of something happening. Is he always this crazy?”
I hear that voice and it makes my chest ache so much I have to hold my breath to stop a shudder of pain. Mika. Mika is here, and she’s laughing and talking to Prissy, as a daughter would to her mother.
Once, I wished she would be this way with me. I thought with her I could be better, try harder, be different, but as life always proves, I shouldn’t wish for anything.
I was never destined to have this.
Ignoring the ache in my heart and the knowledge that leaving will mean me never reconciling with Bear or forming a truce with Mika, something I hoped for even as I despised them all, I creep forward in the opposite direction of the voices, making it to the little door off the patio where I can see the woods and the path to freedom.
Going this way means I’ll have to skirt the northern boundary, possibly that I’ll have to run towards Eureka before doubling back and going south. No way am I going to Canada!
I need to be careful though. I’ve been super quiet and sneaky, and yes, I am good at it, very good, but I am also aware that they could scent me at any moment and also that there could be guards out there.
Sliding the door open silently, I slip out and close it, taking a minute to just breathe and get myself focused. I’ll have to shift mid-run, something I haven’t done in a while since Dad started rationing my shifts as punishment.
Breathing deeply, I lock my muscles and burst forward, deciding that I may as well start now and not waste time. I make it halfway across the backyard before I start calling on my wolf, giving myself the advantage of speed and adrenalin to mute the pain I know is about to engulf me.
Everything burns white hot as muscles start stretching and I feel bones pop and distort, the shifting of my organs inside me—change.
I ignore the added pain of being in motion and allow the shift full control, my legs pumping even as everything realigns. So close, I think, just as my wolf bursts free fully and leaps, throwing me into the air.
I hit the ground on four paws, my black pelt thick and flowing as wind whips at me and my paws dig into packed dirt. Now I can run, I think, feeling free and untamed as I reach the woods and the safety of the trees.
Here, I give the wolf full control and just sit back to watch as she sprints forward, dodging trees and roots, sniffing the wind for anything nearby. She listens to my warnings though, something I am grateful for, and keeps things quiet, the howl she is panting to let out tapped in our lungs so that we have a better chance at escape.
I’m free.
Chapter Eight
Logan
I snarl, kicking at the rocks on the path with enough force one slams into a tree trunk and splinters a chunk free, the resounding crack making my nerves string tighter under my skin.
I’m so worked up as I make my way to Mom and Dad’s place that I have to stop midway and just breathe to calm the anger rushing through me.
Mate her. Mate her? Is that female out of her mind? I rage, grinding my teeth when her smile flashes through my mind’s eye, her smug enjoyment so clear I feel a howl bubbling up my throat.
I should have told her to go to hell! I should have laughed in her face instead of getting so fucking hard that my cock threatened to leak come all over my pants.
I hate that I get turned on by her, that her body still has the power to draw me, even as my mind rebels against it with disgust. I despise her. She is everything I don’t like in a female. She’s beautiful, but she knows it and uses it to her advantage. She’s vain. She’s spoiled and demanding, and she doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but herself.
If she were any decent sort of person, she would have wanted to help of her own free will and rescue Barbie. If she had a heart, she would have thought of someone else first and understood that other people matter too.
If she was a better person, I would be able to look at her with lust streaking through me and not feel disgust for us both or the anger that plagues me whenever I find myself wanting to taste her lips or throw her down and lick her sex.
Fuck!
“Something pissed you off.”
I grunt, having heard Banner coming my way a mile ago, my wolf yapping when he comes closer, and I smell his wolf in control today.
“Two guesses,” I grunt, walking again when it becomes apparent no amount of time will lighten my mood.
Banner picks up his pace, falling in beside me, and his golden eyes sparkle with humor when he sees my tight jaw.
“She still causing trouble and landing herself in lockup?”
“More often than not these days.”
We keep walking, slowing when the hou
se comes into sight and the smell of food and something sweet drifts through the air. I come over to eat with Mom and Dad at least once a week if I can, not wanting to let my parents think that I am too busy for them.
They’re my rocks, the anchor that tethers me most days, and no matter what I get up to, I never forget to stop by and see them. My mom would hunt me down like a dog if I went more than a few days without coming over, and Dad whines like a brat when she gets upset, so lately I come over, no matter the time, just to check in and make her happy.
I love my parents, a lot. Ros may not be my real mother, my own mom Marty having passed away years ago when I was a child, but she’s all the mother I have ever known, and she’s loved me and Clarke like her own since her and Dad mated.
Being Dad’s Fated, his one female, is about the only reason my father eventually accepted her and left off the grief and mourning he felt after my real mom passed away.
For a while, after she was gone, my dad was a wreck, wandering around as if he’d lost everything that mattered to him. Clarke and I were young, but I understood then exactly how powerful love could be. He loved my mom completely, even if they weren’t Fated, and he’d have kept loving her if she’d lived.
Sometimes I think that poor Mom had to die because my dad had to meet Ros. She’s his true love, the only female that would cause him to die from the loss of her. He told me that as much as he loved Marty, he would wither without Ros.
I don’t resent him for that because I love Ros too. She’s loved us all, cared for us, given me a family, and rescued my dad from a place I didn’t think he’d come back from.
At first, I was leery. I mean, there I was, a kid, missing my mom, not understanding why my once-loving father hardly spent any time with me or Clarke, and so lonely I cried most nights.
Dad didn’t even bother to look after us that much. He worked, came home, and that was it. Prissy, the Alpha female would come over and watch us, clean, cook, make sure we were okay.
But it wasn’t the same, and I knew it.
When Ros walked in, I thought I would hate her. No one could replace Marty in my mind, as young as I was, but the female never once tried to. She just kicked Dad’s ass and yelled and demanded he stop being such a sad excuse for a parent.
And then she stayed.
I look back at the way Dad fought her, her determination and refusal to budge, and I laugh because that female has balls. She didn’t let my dad’s rejection faze her and chose instead to look after me and Clarke as hers.
Sometimes I think that’s what finally woke Dad up and why he accepted the Fating. She loved us, all of us, and took care of us even when we fought her.
I want that.
I want a mate who is sweet and strong and caring. I want a female who everyone can look at and respect. I want love and happiness and young, and to have that, I am definitely not fucking mating Hannah Seers, the bane of my existence.
“I’ve been up to Eureka again. Took a long run to check things out again, and I hate to say this, Lo, but your theories aren’t panning out. Time’s ticking,” Banner says, interrupting my thoughts as we reach the back porch and remove our shoes, walking into the house where Mom is at the stove, humming and stirring something in a pot.
I go over to kiss her, chuckling when she coos and gives me a tight hug, shoving me away to grab Banner, who laughs and throws me a look. He likes to tease me that he’s her favorite, but I shrug it off, most days, because Mom is as likely to slap Banner as she is to hug him.
“What’s going on? Time? Don’t tell me you boys aren’t staying for dinner because I will kill someone after I spent hours putting this together.” She huffs, glaring when we laugh.
“Mom, it would take a forklift to get me out of here after smelling your food from a mile away. No, we’re discussing work.” I chuckle, wincing when I go to the pot but get a whack against the head.
“Don’t pick in my pots! You, set the table and stop laughing at your brother. I’ll slap you too. Dennis! We’re ready to eat.”
I share a laugh with Banner, silent because Mom would slap me again, just for the fun of it, and help him set the table just as Dad walks in and grins.
“She’s in a fine mood today, let me tell you. She met that Vicky Seers in the store today and things did not go well,” he says and grunts, his eyes twinkling while Mom huffs and blushes.
“I swear to God, I almost slapped that woman. To think I once felt sorry for her because that mate of hers is an abusive idiot.”
I go still, my eyes narrowing, and watch Banner’s head tilt to the side while Mom mutters and serves, waving at us to sit. When I’m in my seat with a plate in front of me, I turn to Mom and ask.
“Abusive?”
She snorts, glaring at Clarke’s empty seat before sighing and shaking her head.
“That male is a monster. Why I used to feel so sorry for little Hannah when she was younger, before she turned into a carbon copy of those monsters,” she says, sniffing in disgust. “I hoped that she’d not take on their beliefs, but the older she got, the more I started to see that blood always wins with those kinds of people. Almost broke my heart when I had to tell her not to come back here again.”
I go still, my fingers tensing on the fork when Banner looks away and swallows.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Logan, don’t frown at me, boy. I didn’t enjoy telling a ten-year-old girl to skedaddle! But she was always making the most insulting comments to Banner, and he was so young, I was afraid he’d start thinking that way.”
“What would she say?” I ask, curious now, because I know why I told her to leave us alone when we were young, but I want to know why my sweet, loving mother would have the heart to do it.
“She told Banner that being mixed was an abomination,” she admits, making my hackles rise when I look at Banner who’s frowning and shaking his head.
“That’s not what she said,” he whispers, his eyes going dark when he frowns at Mom and seems to get upset. “She told me that that is what her parents kept saying, but she didn’t believe it because she liked me and that she would never hate me for being different.”
Mom stops eating, her fork halfway to her mouth, and frowns when Banner shoves his plate away and his eyes flash again.
“She used to play with me when no one else would, even gave Fallon Arron a black eye when he called me a lazy bear.”
“But she used to call you horrible names in town,” I say, remembering the day I caught her doing it, her little face so filled with spite I wanted to hit her.
Only my dad’s voice, reminding me that females are precious, stopped me, and so as young as I was, I told her if she ever came near Banner again I would kill her.
That day started my hatred for her, and I am not proud to admit that it has only grown since. She’s a nasty female, one I don’t want near me, even if we are Fated.
“Because she’d have been in trouble if her parents caught her hanging out with a filthy mixed breed. She even stayed away from me. Remember that week I cried because she was gone? She didn’t come back until I tracked her down and begged her to be my friend again. I was eight! She was my only friend.”
“Ban—”
“So we made a deal. She said that she would come back, but that we had to pretend to hate each other if we wanted to be friends. Secret friends she called it. Christ! She was a kid! You told me she hated me, Logan!” he accuses, his temper sparking as he rises from the table to glare down at me.
My shock is too overwhelming. I can hardly think, as Banner slams a fist into the table, splitting the wood down the center in his fury. The thing collapses, scattering dishes and food, as we all jump up and back to avoid having it dumped on our laps.
“She’s a bigot! We all know it. Just look at the way she treats other people. Hell, her own brothers can hardly stand her,” I say, defending myself with the belief that Hannah was always destined to be a nasty piece of work.
“And no fucking wo
nder! Christ. You people amaze me. She was a ten-year-old girl for God’s sake. The only friends she had was us, and then again, only really me because you and Bear were so busy being ‘grown ups’ that you’d leave us together and wander off. Hannah wasn’t a bad kid, just one who was trapped between wanting to be different and having to be what her parents demanded. And just fucking think,” he says, his voice laced with disgust, “we made it easy for her to hate us because we treated her no better than the elites treat us.”
“Ban—”
“No! Don’t you try to defend this. I have hated her for years, believing the shit you shoved down my throat because the next time I saw Han, she was exactly what you told me she was. She didn’t smile at me anymore; she didn’t look at me as a friend. And no wonder. She must have believed I was just like you,” he says sadly. “The Kilters, the poster family for mixed breeds and tolerance. Teaching a little girl about hatred.”
He shakes his head when Dad tries to grab him, stopping his retreat.
“Leave me be. I can’t believe I’m a part of this.”
“What difference does it make? That happened years ago, and besides, it’s not as if things would have been different Banner!” I yell, halting him at the door, where he turns to me and shakes his head, his look pitying.
“How would you know? Hannah could have been with me, with us, and not alone with an entire clan of bigots. What if she’d have been a different person?” he asks softly. “Maybe I’m wrong and she still would have turned out this way, but what if being chased away, treated like less, was what made her believe everything they tried to teach her?”
He shakes his head again, sighing tiredly, and leaves, closing the door softly.
“Shit.”
“Oh Dennis, I…”
I growl when Mom sniffles, her eyes filled with pain when Dad grabs her and pulls her into his arms, shushing her sniffles.
I grind my teeth, thinking that Banner is an idealistic fool. No way would things have been different, I tell myself. Hannah was friends with Bear even after she stopped coming around to our house. Hell, she was that same snide girl at seventeen when I reminded her that she’s not our kind and told her to stay away.
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