No Safe Haven: A Last Sanctuary Novel

by Kyla Stone

  “Plain as day,” Damien said. “It was white as a ghost and huge. The biggest wolf I’ve ever seen, even for a mod.”

  Cerberus’s grin widened. He patted Damien approvingly on the back. “Good boy.”

  Damien smiled eagerly, his pale, freckled skin almost blushing.

  So it was Damien who’d surprised her at the bear padlock last night. She shivered involuntarily. She couldn’t quite figure him out. He hadn’t shot the pharmacist, but he’d been about to. He was so much younger than the others, barely older than she was. She knew logically that age had nothing to do with it. He might be worse than Ryker.

  He was disconcertingly handsome, but there was a hardness in the slash of his cheekbones, the narrow jut of his chin. He was obviously eager to prove himself, and that was dangerous.

  “How do we make it show itself, then?” Ryker asked in a bored tone. “I’m starving. Bones is making breakfast. He found actual pancake mix.”

  Jagger stood next to Ryker and blew out a ring of cigarette smoke. “Did you see how much food is here? This place is a gold mine.”

  “And mine it we shall,” Cerberus said. “In due time.”

  Ryker looked like he wanted to roll his eyes in disgust. But he didn’t—he knew who was boss.

  “We must be patient, my friends.” Cerberus had a sophisticated air about him, a civilized facade, like he might strangle you with one hand while sipping expensive wine from a crystal glass with the other. Scorpio, Jagger, and Ryker were his guard dogs, brutes who killed on command. Or in Ryker’s case, just for the hell of it.

  Ryker rubbed his goatee, his eyebrows dark slashes over eyes black as silt. He was a killer, maybe the most dangerous of all of them. Raven had seen the look on his face when he’d shot Carl. He didn’t kill in self-defense or because he’d been told to; he killed because he enjoyed it.

  A leaf fluttered to Raven’s left. She flinched and craned her neck.

  The black wolf crouched not five feet from her, staring intently at the men beyond the fence, his ears flat and lips pulling back. She hadn’t heard him approach. Likely, Luna was nearby as well.

  Stay back, she whispered to them in her mind. Stay hidden.

  Ryker bent and picked up a loose, fist-sized rock from the path. Over the years, much of the flagstone had cracked. Her father had never gotten around to getting it fixed. Ryker hurled the rock into the enclosure. It struck the trunk of a slim sugar maple with a resounding crack.

  Cerberus laughed. A half-second later, Damien laughed, too, his gaze flicking eagerly to the man’s face.

  “That’s one way to do it.” Jagger’s voice was deep and rasping, like he’d been smoking for fifty years—though he couldn’t have been older than thirty.

  Jagger picked up his own rock and threw it at the pine tree Raven was crouched behind. The branches shook, pine needles raining down on her head.

  Shadow growled.

  Raven wanted to shush him, but she couldn’t afford to make a sound. He was used to being the predator; it wasn’t in his nature to act the prey, to live in fear. She stared at the wolf as hard as she could, desperate to somehow communicate her thoughts. Be quiet. Be still. Don’t let them see you.

  “I heard one,” Jagger drawled. “Draw ‘em out.”

  He and Ryker hurled several more rocks. With each crack, Shadow’s growl grew louder, more fierce.

  She wanted to reach out and touch him, try to calm him, but didn’t dare. He was no dog. He was still a wild animal, incredibly powerful and driven by primal instincts she couldn’t begin to understand.

  A rock struck the trunk of an elm a foot from Shadow’s head.

  With a snarl, Shadow sprang from the protection of the trees.

  Shadow halted thirty feet from the fence, tail stiff behind him. He growled deep in his throat, the ruff on his neck bristling, making him look even larger and more menacing. His lips stretched back until he was showing every one of his forty-two sharp, gleaming teeth.

  Damien whistled.

  “Look at the pelt on that one, boys!” Cerberus crowed. “It’s gorgeous!”

  Jagger lifted his rifle and aimed at the wolf.

  Raven tensed, longing to leap out after Shadow, to defend him, to do something, but she couldn’t. If she revealed herself now, they would take her and do terrible things.

  She needed to stay hidden. There was nothing she could do but watch in growing dismay, praying these maggots didn’t harm the wolves.

  “Easy now.” Cerberus put his hand on the barrel of Jagger’s rifle and forced him to lower it. “Not yet. We don’t want to waste the meat or ruin the pelt.”

  “Whatever you say, boss,” Jagger said with an easy shrug. He fixed his gaze on Shadow. His onyx eyes glittered. “I call that one.”

  Ryker seized another rock and heaved it at the wolf. It struck Shadow in the flank.

  Shadow leapt forward with a savage snarl. Behind him, Luna plunged out of the trees. She halted beside him, snapping her jaws, ears flattened against her skull, eyes blazing.

  Cerberus straightened with a gasp. His entire face lit with a greedy, rapacious desire. “Well, looky there. Here he is, in all his glory. You were right, kid. He’s fit for a king.”

  Dread coiled in Raven’s stomach. She hated the way the men were looking at the wolves—as if they were trophies. She dug her nails into her palms to keep from screaming.

  Cerberus turned away from the fence. “The white wolf is mine. No one touches her until tomorrow.”

  “How long we staying here?” Ryker asked.

  “Antsy already, are you?” Cerberus dropped the stub of his cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his boot. “Everything in its time.”

  Ryker stepped in close to Cerberus. “We’re wasting time. There’s too much to do. We can’t afford to waste days here and squander—”

  Cerberus’s expression went hard. “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

  Ryker scowled. For half an instant, he looked mutinous. Then his face cleared, and he smiled lazily. “Sure thing, boss.”

  Cerberus turned his back on Ryker. “Let’s go.”

  Ryker stayed behind as the others followed Cerberus along the path back toward the lodge. Damien glanced back at Ryker, a shadow darkening his face. Then he turned and left with the others.

  Ryker chucked two more stones at the wolves—one striking Luna on her right foreleg, the other hitting Shadow’s muzzle.

  The wolves fell back, growling and snapping in impotent fury.

  Ryker only laughed darkly. His expression was scornful, malignant. He made the shape of a gun with his fingers and pointed it first at Shadow, then Luna. “Bang, bang. You’re dead.”

  16

  For a long time after Ryker left, Raven didn’t move from beneath the pine tree. Anger sizzled through her like an electrical current—but also fear, knotted and jagged. And not just for herself.

  Shaking, she gritted her teeth. How dare they mock the wolves? How dare they hurt such wild, beautiful creatures? She wanted to hit something, to pound her fists against the nearest tree and scream out her frustration. Or better yet, take out her anger on the bikers. Maybe claw Ryker’s face a bit, give him a taste of his own medicine. The thought gave her a grim satisfaction.

  Finally, she forced herself to sit up and brushed needles, dirt, and dead leaves from her hair and clothes. Lying here wouldn’t fix anything. It wasn’t going to get her any further away from these thugs. She needed to move.

  The wolves had retreated to the safety of their den. Cautiously, she stood and followed them, slow and tentative.

  When Raven stepped into the clearing, Luna whirled on her, lips curling back from her fangs.

  Raven dropped immediately to a submissive sitting position.

  But that wasn’t enough for Luna. She growled and lunged at Raven. The wolf reared up and struck both great paws against Raven’s shoulders. Raven was slammed to the ground.

  The back of her head smacked the ground hard. P
ain jarred her spine. Raven sucked in air that wouldn’t come, the force of the blow knocking the breath out of her. She stared up at Luna, shocked and petrified.

  Paws still on her shoulders, pressing her down, Luna lowered her huge head inches from Raven’s face and snarled. Hot breath spewed against Raven’s cheeks. Saliva splattered on her chin, her lips.

  Teeth bared, Luna snapped her jaws again and again in Raven’s face. Gaping jaws, a raw red throat, and gleaming, needle-sharp fangs filled Raven’s vision. Her heart shuddered inside her chest. She flinched, certain the she-wolf was about to tear her face off.

  Humans had just hurled rocks at Luna. Of course, she’d be enraged. Of course, she’d want to take revenge on the nearest human. It made sense. If Raven were a wolf, she would feel the same way.

  She had her whittling knife in her pocket. But just like with Shadow, it could do little damage, while Luna’s jaws could crush bones, shred ligaments, tendons, and muscles, pulverizing whatever flesh she sank her teeth into—all within a second or two. Fighting back would only enrage the wolf further.

  Raven forced herself to remain limp, hoping Luna was only posturing, hoping she didn’t decide Raven was a threat better off dead.

  Shadow growled. Luna snapped her head up.

  Raven took the second of diversion to shield her face with her hands. She tried to curl her lower half into a ball, protecting her vulnerable stomach, but Luna was still standing on Raven’s shoulders, pinning her to the ground.

  Abruptly, Luna was shoved aside. Shadow shouldered into her, pushing her off Raven. He nipped at Luna’s flank as she spun, a growl already rumbling deep in her throat.

  Luna came back snarling and snapping, this time at Shadow. The black wolf stood his ground between Raven and Luna. Raven scrambled a few feet back on her elbows, gasping for breath, her pulse a roar in her ears.

  The wolves stared at each other, standing stiffly, ears back, growling. For whatever reason, Shadow wanted to take a chance on Raven; Luna clearly did not. Luna didn’t trust Raven, didn’t like her, considered her an outsider, an interloper. Which she was.

  Humans had trapped Luna, beat her with whips, and forced her to battle to the death in the fighting ring. Humans had jeered at her, thrown rocks, caged her. Humans had hunted her kind since the dawn of time.

  It was a miracle that Luna hadn’t already crushed Raven’s windpipe with a single bite.

  Luna growled in warning, her head lowered. Shadow growled right back. Neither gave way. Neither submitted.

  Raven remembered what her father had taught her about pack behavior when one wolf challenged another. For a lesser-ranked wolf, a battle of domination and submission would ensue, sometimes to the death or the exclusion of the losing wolf from the pack.

  But not with these two. They were alphas, partners, equals.

  Then Shadow gave a low whine in the back of his throat. He loped to Luna, pressed in and nuzzled his mate’s side. She nipped at him angrily, but didn’t bite or shy away.

  He licked her muzzle. She snorted.

  He licked her again, whining, his tail lifting hopefully.

  This time, she didn’t nip at him. Conceding, she lowered her head and tucked it beneath his, rubbing her muzzle against his shoulders and neck.

  The fight was over. For now.

  Luna settled herself on the other side of the clearing, as far away from Raven as she could get. Shadow sank down beside Luna and buried his muzzle in the soft fur of her neck. She, in turn, rested her head on his back and fixed her unblinking amber eyes on Raven.

  I’m watching you, her gaze said.

  Dread seeded itself in Raven’s stomach as she watched them, a dark, ugly fear sprouting black roots. Cerberus and Ryker wanted these wolves for something. To kill for sport? Something equally horrible?

  The bikers would be back. And next time, they wouldn’t just stand outside the fence.

  She’d hoped the bikers would hunker down for the night and take off in the morning to wherever they were headed. She’d been naive. And very, very wrong.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, unable to stop shivering. Hunger gnawed at her empty stomach. Her mouth was so dry it felt caked in sand. She coughed.

  Raven froze. A single cough didn’t mean anything, not really. People coughed all the time. She was just clearing her throat. That’s all. Nothing more. Please, please be nothing more.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, mentally counting the days. Four since exposure. The cold symptoms should have started yesterday or today. If she was infected, she would know soon.

  Raven opened her eyes. She couldn’t stay here. She had to run.

  She was probably at least a two-days’ hike on foot from the nearest town after Clay Creek. But with the Hydra virus infecting everything it touched, towns were far more dangerous than the woods now.

  There was still the cabin, but it was fifty miles away. The cabin, with its rough-hewn walls and the raggedy smoke-blue curtains she’d picked out and sewn herself when she was twelve. The floor was worn and scuffed from years of use, the windows filmed and scuzzy, the cabinet doors nearly falling off their hinges, a rack of ancient copper pots hanging from the low ceiling. The porcelain farmer’s sink in the corner with the blue-and-green gingham curtain she and her mother had picked out together, on one of her mother’s rare good days.

  All those times she’d hunted with her father, returning so tired, she’d fallen onto the dumpy mattress fully clothed, without removing her boots; her father curling up on the floor—no blanket, not even a pillow.

  The cabin was as much hers as anyone’s. It was a safe place. The place she’d felt closest to her father. It even held a few pleasant memories of her mother.

  The cabin was where she needed to go.

  Her backpack was still in the lodge. She couldn’t survive more than a day or two in the woods without it. She needed her snares for catching small game. There were none stored at the cabin.

  More importantly, she needed her water filtration packets and Lifestraw so she could drink from the river. She needed her flint to make fire, she needed her compass, her tent for warmth and shelter.

  She wouldn’t survive for long without her backpack.

  It didn’t take her long to decide. Tonight, under cover of darkness, she would go back and get it.

  The front entrance was too dangerous with all the thugs congregating around the lodge and the Grizzly Grill. She would escape out the back gate.

  In the distance, the bonobos screeched grumpily. The bears growled at each other with low moans. They were all hungry.

  She forced herself to tear her gaze from Luna’s piercing, judgmental eyes.

  There was nothing she could do about that.

  She had to think of her own survival now.

  17

  As morning gave way to afternoon and afternoon to evening, a warm front descended from the north. The sun set achingly slow, until finally the sky deepened to shades of indigo as it darkened to night. The air filled with the trill of crickets and cicadas. Stars spattered the glossy black of the sky.

  As fog drifted over the treeline like ribbons of tulle, Raven set off for the lodge.

  After checking to make sure the coast was clear, she locked each gate of the double fence. Shadow and Luna watched her go, still and silent.

  She pulled out her whittling knife, unfolded it, and gripped it in one hand as she crept along the enclosures. She passed the porcupine pen. Duke and Duchess bustled out of their little house, quills bristling. They hissed at her in outrage for daring to interrupt their nocturnal habits—whatever those might be.

  Hera ruffled her feathers from the aptly named eagle’s nest, a two-story wire-mesh enclosure with a tree to rest on and lovely views of the park. She sat serenely on her perch, talons gripping the wooden pole, her beady raptor eyes tracking Raven’s every movement.

  The otters chirped as she inched past their glass-front habitat. She could barely make out the shape of one of them—eith
er Whiskers or Mo—lounging on his rock, his eyes glittering as he watched her.

  She hesitated at the cinderblock maintenance shed. The tranq guns and the emergency rifles were stored inside. She couldn’t justify leaving them again. The bikers were dangerous. She needed to protect herself.

  Quietly, she unlocked and opened the rusted metal door. The corrugated roof leaked. Junk cluttered every corner—coils of rusting wire, broken power tools, buckets of old batteries, shelves of solar lamps, hammers, and wrenches.

  Everything was coated in a filmy layer of grease and grime. Dust swirled in the blurry moonlight filtering through the filthy window. Her mask protected her from the worst of it, though a tickling sensation irritated her throat.

  She swallowed a cough, forcing it down. She hesitated for a moment—but she didn’t feel the urge to cough again. Only dust, she told herself. It was only dust.

  She maneuvered around the huge metal workbench that looked like it hadn’t been used in thirty years, sidestepping two large containers of gasoline shoved against the wall below the gun rack.

  She shoved two tranq guns into her waistband, stuffed her cargo pockets with ammo and extra darts encased in metal cylinders, and hooked the strap of the hunting rifle over her shoulder. She wiped her hands on her pants as she left the shed and quietly closed the door behind her.

  Three minutes later, she reached the lodge.

  Voices boomed from inside, raucous laughter and boisterous shouts. It sounded like they’d found the Grizzly Grill’s alcohol supply. The front windows glowed with the light of several solar lamps.

  Relief flared through her. Her window, at least, was dark.

  A cinderblock was propped up on its side beneath her window. She’d used it to sneak in and out before. Not that she had anywhere illicit or exciting to go. When she was younger, she would stretch out on her back on Vlad’s tiger house and count all the stars, wondering if maybe her mother was staring up at the exact same sky, thinking about Raven. On her seventeenth birthday, Raven had come to the conclusion that she wasn’t, and never had.