No Safe Haven: A Last Sanctuary Novel

by Kyla Stone

  She strained to make out their voices.

  Ponytail scratched his scalp. “What the hell is this place?”

  “A wildlife refuge,” Damien said, reading the sign affixed to the gates. Ponytail looked at him blankly. “Like a private zoo.”

  “The animals are probably already dead,” Scorpio said. “Or else those crazy Earth Liberation activists released them, like they did in Atlanta.”

  Kodiak, the black bear, gave a half-hearted bellow.

  Cerberus threw back his head and laughed. “Do you hear that?”

  “That a lion?” asked a heavy, bearded Middle Eastern man, his beady eyes going wide.

  “You’re an idiot, Oman,” Damien said. “Don’t you recognize a bear when you hear one?”

  Oman scowled, but Ryker and Scorpio laughed. Damien’s face flushed at the show of approval.

  “What a pleasant surprise,” Cerberus said, peering through the bars of the gate and taking in the restaurant, the lodge, the picnic tables, the souvenir shop designed like a log cabin. “A precious jewel hidden away in the middle of nowhere.”

  The tiger’s roar punctuated the quiet evening air.

  The bikers froze and stared at each other, gaping in startled awe.

  Vlad roared again and again, the deep bass notes ringing across the grounds. It was a frightening and awe-inspiring thing, conjuring an image of something enormous, vicious, and very hungry.

  A savage grin spreading across his face, Cerberus slapped Damien on the back so hard he stumbled. “Gentlemen, we’ve just entered the jungle. Happy hunting.”

  “What about the girl?” Ryker asked, sounding bored.

  Raven stiffened. Ryker had seen her, noticed her, stared at her like she was prey. He and the others must have decided to find her. She’d been so intent on getting home, so shaken from the shooting, that she wouldn’t have noticed if one of them had hitched a ride in the back seat of her battered Toyota.

  “She might be here; she might not,” Scorpio said. “How much time do you want to waste looking for her?”

  “She’s here.” Ryker scanned the trees as he prowled next to Cerberus, hand resting on his holster. He was probably Cerberus’s beta, his enforcer. Ryker pointed toward the carport at the other end of the parking lot. “That’s her car.”

  “If you find her, bring her to me,” Cerberus said. “I have a particular client who would…appreciate her exotic flair.”

  Raven sucked in her breath, her face flushing hot in anger. They could go to hell. Every single one of them. They were murderers and worse. She’d make sure they never found her.

  “I think we’ll get something out of this place,” Cerberus said, still grinning broadly. “Let’s have a look around before it gets too dark. We’ll stay here for the night.”

  “How about something edible?” Ponytail said. His voice was deep and rough, like gravel. “I’m starving.”

  Oman sniggered. “Don’t accidentally walk into the bear cage, Jagger, or you’ll be edible.”

  Oman flashed an ingratiating smile at Cerberus, gauging his reaction. Cerberus ignored him. Beside him, Ryker sneered down at Oman dismissively. Oman slunk several paces away.

  There was a hierarchy among the bikers, with the same jostling for power and dominance as a wolf pack. In this case, she doubted the alpha treated his pack like family.

  “Gentlemen, a treat just landed right in our laps,” Cerberus bellowed, gathering the men around him. “Let’s go see just how sweet it is.”

  Oman grabbed the bars of the gate and rattled them. “How we gettin’ inside, boss?”

  Jagger narrowed his eyes at the bioscan lock. “No way to hack this.”

  “Grab the hook,” Cerberus ordered. “And the chains.”

  “What are you waiting for?” Ryker clapped his hands. “Get to it.”

  Raven watched in growing dread as several bikers jogged back to their motorcycles, one pulling a large metal hook and chains from a case attached to the rear of the bike. Jagger grabbed what looked like a bolt cutter and went to work on the gates’ hinges.

  Oman and Damien wrapped the chains around the gate, attached them to the rear of several bikes, and pulled away with a squeal of tires and revving engines. The gate wrenched off its snapped hinges with a sickening shriek of metal.

  The bikers strode through the open like they already owned the place. Cerberus turned to Damien, Jagger, and a third guy—a slight, stoop-shouldered Latino in his forties, wearing a khaki jacket too large for him and a dirty brown baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. “Damien, find us a place to sleep. Jagger and Gomez, you’re on food patrol. Scrounge up something decent to eat.”

  Damien nodded sharply, and the bikers began to disperse, laughing and conversing among themselves. Jagger and the Latino guy—Gomez—headed toward the lodge, directly toward Raven’s hiding spot. Three more found the main path, flicked their SmartFlexes, and activated the flashlight feature as dusk thickened around them.

  She had to move. Now.

  She was grateful for the growing darkness. She knew the layout of this place like the back of her hand. The dark would give her a slight advantage—an advantage she’d need if she was going to survive the night.

  11

  Raven rose cautiously to her feet and backed slowly away.

  Like all predators, rapid movement would attract their attention and trigger their prey-response. If she stayed quiet and hidden, she could creep behind the buildings, head to the back of the park, reach the rear gate, and escape into the woods.

  She had no food or water or shelter—she wouldn’t last long. But a single night while these thugs took what they wanted and then went on their merry way—that was doable. They’d take some of the food, but there were only ten of them.

  There would still be enough for her. There would have to be enough.

  She didn’t have many options, anyway. This was the best she could think of.

  The sky was nearly black now, stars winking to life overhead. Thick clouds drifted like ribbons across the moon. Without electricity, the automatic security lights strung along the pathways were dark.

  Moving carefully within the shadows, she managed to reach the maintenance shed without detection. The air had grown chilly. A glance at her dad’s SmartFlex told her it was forty-eight degrees and dropping. She didn’t feel it now, but would later, alone in the woods in the middle of a cold fall night.

  She crouched, eyeing the ten yards of open ground she had to cross to reach the cover of the thin line of trees between the shed and the food storage buildings. Once she reached the trees, she’d be invisible.

  Three men rounded the corner of the lodge, coming toward her from the far side, their flashlights sweeping the ground along the wrought-iron fence. She blinked against the brightness, unable to make out their features, only their vaguely human shapes.

  She cringed back against the wall. They were between her and the fence. As soon as they reached the shed, they’d find her.

  She cursed silently. Still crouching, she crept along the rear of the shed and peeked around the opposite corner. She was facing the park now. On her left clustered the lodge, the restaurant, the souvenir shop, and the entrance. There were men bumbling around inside the restaurant, more exploring the lodge—her home. They had no right to invade that private space. She shoved that thought out of her mind. There was no time.

  To the right, the flagstone path led past the food storage buildings to the eastern exhibits: the reptile house, the bonobos, the otters, eagle, and porcupines, the ostriches, then finally the bears and wolves at the rear.

  Maybe, just maybe, she would get lucky, and the thugs investigating the park had chosen the western path instead of the east one closest to her. If they had, they would be all the way on the far side, the large lake and walk-in enclosure between her and them.

  She had only a second to make the decision. The goons behind her would discover her position within moments. She inched out from behind the maintena
nce shed and moved to the path. It was lined with waist-high bushes, slim birch trees interspersed every thirty feet or so. Other than the bushes, there wasn’t much to provide cover until she reached the reptile house another fifty yards away.

  She needed to hurry.

  Raven ducked behind the bushes along the path and crawled on her hands and knees. Twigs and burrs jabbed into her palms. The woodsy scent of mulch filled her nostrils.

  Voices rang out behind her. Harsh, braying laughter echoed. Flashlight beams swept across the darkened sky.

  She crawled faster. Despite the cold, sweat beaded her forehead. She focused on the next step to drive away the icy shock of panic trembling her limbs. Get out of sight. Get to the rear gate. Get out. Get out. Get out.

  She rose, splinters of mulch needling her kneecaps, and peered cautiously over the hedge. The shadowy bulk of the reptile house reared up out of the night.

  She dropped back down and kept crawling. When she checked again, she’d reached the eagle house. She could just make out the shape of Hera, the American bald eagle, napping on a high branch within the mesh walls.

  It was frustratingly slow going. Every time she lowered her knee, she winced, the soft crunching sound loud as an explosion in her ears. She sucked in her breath between her teeth to keep from gasping.

  Finally, she reached the bears. The wrought-iron perimeter fence was only a few yards behind the bear and wolf exhibits. She strained for strange noises over the trill of insects, a peacock squawking, and the squealing of the bonobos across the park.

  Voices. Not too close yet, but closing in. A flashlight beam bobbed behind her. Danger headed her way.

  Slowly, heart thudding, she rose to her feet.

  The bear enclosure was large. To circle around to the back, she was first forced to walk along a section of path directly in front of the enclosure about twenty yards long. It was devoid of topiary bushes, leaving her exposed.

  Her boots scuffed the flagstone. She softened her footfalls. Her eyes strained in the dim moonlight, constantly scanning, searching for danger, for anything—

  A shadow that didn’t belong.

  Directly ahead of her, a large shape bent over the railing of the bear habitat, completely still and unmoving in the darkness.

  She blinked. It was still there. Her eyes adjusted enough to recognize that the shape was distinctly human.

  Adrenaline shot through her veins. She stifled a cry of alarm.

  She couldn’t turn and go back the way she’d come. There were bikers behind her. Raven did the only thing she could think of. She took off running.

  As she raced past the bear enclosure, the shadow moved, jerking back, startled. “Hey!” he said. “Hey! Stop!”

  His footfalls slapped the flagstone behind her. He cursed, fumbling with something, probably trying to activate a flashlight.

  Her pursuer was larger than she was. Stronger. Likely faster. She wouldn’t be able to outrun him. Her only chance was to hide—to hide where he was least likely to look.

  There weren’t many options.

  It was a risk. It was dangerous. But between human predators who she’d already seen kill and animal predators who rarely or never killed humans in the wild…it wasn’t even a choice.

  Raven wheeled sharply and fled between the enclosures.

  The timber wolf paddock was surrounded by a double-fence. She pressed her shaking right hand to the bioscanner, opened the outside gate, slipped inside, and relocked it. She sprinted to the inside gate, opened it, and entered, willing her limbs to stop shaking, willing herself to calm the hell down.

  Wolves could smell fear. They knew if your heart rate increased, could scent every molecule of your sour, panicked sweat.

  She not only couldn’t show her fear, she couldn’t allow herself to feel it, either.

  She took one deep, steadying breath. Crouch low at their level and don’t move, her dad had instructed the few times he’d brought her inside the fence. Don’t startle them. Show you’re submissive. Speak in their language.

  On the path behind her, a flashlight beam flickered to life.

  There was no time. She was exposed. At any second, the thug would discover her. She had to get out of the clearing into the small forested area around the perimeter. She had to move, to hide—right freakin’ now.

  It was only then, in the almost pitch darkness, her heart hammering against her ribs, that she realized.

  The deer carcass she’d fed to the timber wolves hours before was missing.

  It had been right here, not twenty yards in. The wolves wouldn’t have finished the carcass yet. And even if they had, there would be bones, a skull, patches of fur, gristle.

  Raven went perfectly still. Her heart turned to ice in her chest.

  The timber wolves’ deer carcass wasn’t here because she wasn’t inside the timber wolves’ enclosure. In her panic, she’d entered the second enclosure instead.

  She’d just locked herself in with the hybrid wolves.

  12

  Sweat beaded beneath Raven’s armpits, along the inside of her knees. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps.

  These were not the timber wolves she knew and understood. Still deadly, still dangerous. But at least familiar.

  The hybrid wolves were completely other.

  Raven almost turned around. She almost lost her nerve and fled back to the gate.

  The beam of the flashlight swept across a copse of trees a dozen yards to her right. Fear surged through her. Her pursuer was still searching for her.

  Killer humans or killer wolves. It was a terrible choice. Still, in that moment, she was more afraid of the killer humans.

  Frantic, she searched for a hiding spot within the enclosure—a wide oak trunk, a thick bush, a fallen log—anything. She squinted, peering into the darkness, a darkness that held any number of monsters.

  She scrambled down the shallow incline, shoved brambles and underbrush aside, and dove behind the trunk of a hickory tree. The bark scraped her back as she pressed against it, but she hardly noticed.

  The flashlight skimmed over her hiding place. The light glinted off something in the brush deeper in the trees. The light stilled on a spot directly ahead of her, not five yards from where she huddled behind the trunk.

  Two pairs of reflective eyes peered back at her.

  Raven went very still.

  The biker still on the path above her kept the flashlight beam trained on the twin pairs of glowing eyes. He swore softly. He saw them, too.

  She glimpsed a halo of white among the darkly gleaming leaves. It was Luna. Luna’s mate remained utterly camouflaged in the darkness; Raven saw only the glittering eyes staring intently back at her.

  Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

  She was trapped inside a cage with two genetically modified wolves almost twice her weight, designed by nature and man to maim and kill with impunity, with a bite force of fifteen hundred pounds per square inch.

  It took every ounce of courage not to scream. She gritted her teeth, her muscles taut and thrumming with panic-spiked adrenaline, counting the eternal seconds until the flashlight finally swept away.

  Luna’s ears twitched as the biker stumbled down the path away from the enclosure, the flashlight wavering wildly. The wolf never took her gaze off Raven.

  Raven immediately dropped her gaze in submission. It seemed like the wolves stared at her forever. Were they taking her measure? Did they see her as a potential threat? Or were they deciding which parts of her to eat first? She knew that answer. Her organs. Her heart, lungs, stomach, intestines. Alphas always got the choicest bits…

  Her stomach lurched. She couldn’t think like that, couldn’t resign herself to a fate not set in stone. Not until they tore out her warm, still-beating heart.

  In an eye blink, the wolves vanished. It was that fast. One second, they were there. The next, they’d faded silently into the darkness.

  She peered into the gloom, her gaze sweeping from le
ft to right and left again, straining to make out a familiar predatory shape in the shadows. She’d thought it couldn’t get worse. But it could. Not seeing them, not having any idea where they were, whether they were sneaking up on her right this second, preparing to pounce from any direction—this was worse.

  Could she leave? Had they grown tired of her and wandered off somewhere to sleep? Maybe she could rise cautiously and sneak back to the gate…

  But no. There would be no sneaking. Not with wolves. They could detect her every movement by scent. They would know the second she stood.

  If she made it to the fence, it would only be because they’d allowed it, as opposed to ambushing her and ripping her throat out.

  It was worth a chance. Better than sitting here and waiting for death to come to her. Slowly, slowly, she rose from her crouch. Something sharp jabbed into her thigh. Adrenaline shot through her—images of gleaming claws and fangs flashing through her mind—until she realized what it was.

  Her whittling knife, still in her pocket because she hadn’t changed since yesterday, since she’d buried her dad.

  Raven drew it from her pocket and flipped out the three-inch blade. It wasn’t much. But it was better than nothing.

  She took a single cautious step. Dead leaves crackled beneath her boot.

  A low growl erupted from the bushes directly ahead of her.

  Raven froze.

  The black wolf materialized out of the darkness.

  She forgot how to breathe.

  He stood between two slim maple trees less than ten feet from her, stiff-legged, tail straight out behind him. He tilted his regal head, studying her with those intense, probing eyes.

  He growled again, ears flattening.

  Instinctively, she backed up against the tree and lowered herself, so she was smaller than he was, less of a threat. She gripped the knife but kept it low and pressed against her thigh.