by Michele Hauf
Abigail had said she could take care of herself. But the boy? He was an innocent trapped in a sinking ship. And Ridge could think of only one sure way to get close to the boy to help him escape. He had to act now. Abigail would look upon it as betrayal, after asking him to remain out of sight. He’d have to trust she would forgive him later. If they both lived to have a later.
Sighting in the wolf flanking the witch, Ridge determined once he knocked that one out, the other two would be on him like hounds. He could take out at least one more before the other three pounced. Abigail would have to run for his plan to work.
Racing across the field, keeping behind the line of trees, he stealthily gained upon them. One of the wolves lifted his chin, his nose scenting the air. He’d been marked.
Ridge pounced on the first wolf, and wrenched his neck. Not enough to break it or kill him, but it put him out. Another wolf slammed onto his back and jerked Ridge’s head under the chin. His throat muscles stretched and burned. Dropping backward and crushing his attacker into the snowy ground, he kicked high to fend off another who jumped on him. The wolf landed in the snow, but would be up in no time.
“Abigail, run!” he yelled.
“You tricky witch!” he heard Miles shout. “You’ll never see the boy now.”
The crackle of flame ignited in the air. Ridge could feel the heat suck away the winter chill.
Abigail’s shriek was the last thing he heard. A meaty fist clocked him on the temple and the world went black.
* * *
Abigail fled to the truck while she had the opportunity. She hated running away from Ridge and Ryan, but if she was taken then no one would be in any position to help anyone.
The exchange had been a disaster, but she should have expected as much from the werewolf who couldn’t stand to let things play out without raising a ruckus.
“Stupid wolf!” She slammed a fist against the steering wheel. “Why couldn’t you have stayed out of sight?”
Now she’d never see Ryan or Ridge again.
But that didn’t mean she would ever give up. She started the truck, but had no intention of driving away. She’d watch and follow Miles and his band of werewolves as they drove away. If her warrior wolf couldn’t get the job done, then she’d have to take matters into her own hands.
Hands throwing flames. So much flame, Miles would swallow fire and eat her wrath.
Don’t jump into things like this. Just think. Take a deep breath. Do not react.
Emotionally, she was a wreck. She could not charge into the fray and expect a successful outcome until she got control of herself and calmed down.
Though his actions had been foolish, Ridge had fought valiantly. And yet, something bothered her about that quick exchange between the werewolves.
Ridge had given up too easily.
Sure, he’d been bleeding and outnumbered, but she’d seen him in action before; he could have taken those wolves. None of them had shifted. They’d all been equals, yet when judging brawn and strength, she would have put Ridge far above them all.
Why had he given up on the fight? It made little sense.
Pressing her forehead to the steering wheel, she closed her eyes. “Damn him! Now I’ve two to worry about. How dare he do that to me?”
Just when she had begun to accept him into her heart. To begin to think they could really be a they, and that after this was all through, they might start dating, and continue to share what they’d shared these past few days.
He’d touched her heart, and made her realize she did need someone. That there was no possible way she could push him away, because if she tried, he’d push back. And he would win.
And she wanted him to win—her heart.
Scanning the horizon of snow, she sighted no one who may have followed her, nor did she see another vehicle. They couldn’t have walked out to the meeting spot. There must be a building close by where they’d taken Ridge. Perhaps where they kept Ryan?
She was unsure what her next move was, and feeling as if Ridge had abandoned her to handle this all by herself.
No. That wasn’t like him.
Something didn’t feel right about her assessment of Ridge’s actions during the fight. He would never surrender if that meant leaving her alone. He always put the woman first. Always protect the female. He’d risked his own life to protect Persia Masterson.
The only thing that would see him abandoning his fierce stance had to call to his even stronger protective nature.
“He did it to get close to Ryan,” she said on a whisper. If Miles held Ryan anywhere nearby, they would likely take Ridge to the same place. Tears flooded her eyes. “By the goddess, I think I love that werewolf.”
Chapter 17
His boots thumped and his hips hit hard as he was dragged down the concrete stairs into a basement lit by lighting strips along the floor where it met the wall. Ridge could walk, but he wanted to give the illusion that he was injured and too tired to fight back. The less damage he took from the rowdy wolves the better he’d be able to function. And plot an escape.
He was shoved inside a cell and caught his forearms against a mattress on the floor. It reminded him of the basement in the Northern pack’s compound, and stirred a sickening roil in his belly. It was the first thing he’d demolished and stripped clean after taking on the role of principal. The Northern pack would never again hold anyone captive, or use vampires in the sickening blood sport.
The cell door clanged shut, and his captors wandered to the next cell. “Sleeping?” one of them said as he observed the person inside the cell. Ridge didn’t look, but instead remained facedown on the mattress.
“Leave him alone,” the other said. “Did you remember to bring him dinner?”
“He’s not my kid.”
The acrid scent of fear reached Ridge’s nose. It came from the prisoner in the next cell. Stay strong, he wanted to whisper.
The wolves clattered up the stairs, and he heard the door slam.
Ridge shot over to the bars separating his cell from the other. A boy lay on another mattress, his body curled forward as he clutched his stomach. His eyelids were shut tightly, and Ridge sensed he was not asleep but rather faking it as he just had.
“Are you Ryan?”
The boy’s eyes shot open. They were bloodshot, and Ridge could smell the salty tears that stained his cheeks.
“My name is Richard Addison,” he said. “You can call me Ridge.”
“Go away.” The kid curled in tighter on himself and his entire face winced.
“Are you in pain? Did they hurt you? I’m here to help.”
“No one can help me,” he said weakly. “I hate stupid wolves.”
That wasn’t going to help enamor him to the boy. But he wasn’t about to lie and create more distrust. “I’m werewolf, but I’m not allied with those creeps, or the witch Miles.”
“Miles shoves me around,” the boy said. “I hate him, too. And I hate you, you ugly wolf!”
The kid had every right to fearful anger, and Ridge wasn’t about to try to convince him otherwise. He knew what it was like to be pushed around and treated poorly. All the boy must imagine right now was getting some retaliation, and then…freedom.
“You shouldn’t trust me,” he offered. “That’s smart. Never trust a stranger. I won’t hurt you, though. I’d never hurt a kid. You look like you’re in pain. Please, tell me if they’ve hurt you. Have they been feeding you?”
The boy sat up on an elbow and eyed Ridge through his shaggy bangs. “Cold pizza.”
That he’d offered a bit of information meant a lot. He could win the boy’s trust if he revealed…
“I’m your…” He couldn’t say he was his father. He didn’t know that. And if he was, it was likely Abigail had never told her son about the possibility that a werewolf could have fathered him. “I’m a friend of your mother’s. We were both outside to make the exchange. I knew Miles would try to trick Abigail, though. He never intended to hand you over.”
“My mom was here? Where is she?” He sat straight, but with a sharp grimace, his shoulders wrenched forward, and he clutched his gut. “She came to save me?” he managed through a gritted jaw.
“We both did. And we will get you out of here.”
“Dude, you’re behind bars. Way to go with the save.”
At least he could find some humor. “If they’ve been starving you…”
“They feed me all the time. Pizza every night. I love pizza. Even the cold stuff. You know you can’t get Little Caesar’s in Switzerland?” He moaned again.
“Ryan, tell me what’s wrong.” He sensed the boy was hiding some pain. Hell, he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it, bent over and moaning. “Come over here. Can you do that? I promise I won’t hurt you.”
“No. You’re a wolf.”
“Helping your mother, remember?”
Ryan met his eyes, and strained against the pain. “It hurts in my gut. All over sometimes. Like in my spine.”
“How long have you been in pain?”
“Since this morning.”
“Did one of those thugs hurt you?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I must be sick. But I’ve never felt like this before when I’ve gotten a cold. It’s in my arms, too.” His voice cracked on that last sentence and the deep tone leaped an octave.
His voice was changing. Which meant…
“Did your mother tell you what would happen when you hit puberty, Ryan?”
He nodded, and tucked his head down. “Yeah, my voice has been wonky for months. It’s embarrassing. Mom said I’d come into my magic when I became a man. But I don’t remember her saying it would hurt.”
Ridge didn’t suspect a witch coming into his magic should experience pain and body aches like the boy endured. Hell, he had no clue how it was for a witch. The closest thing he could relate it to was his own puberty. Now that had been an eye-opener, even growing up in the pack. It hadn’t hurt, but his wolf had come on strong and ready to greet the world with a howl.
He gripped the cell bars. Could Ryan be nearing his first shift? That would mean he really was his son. He had no proof, and he should not jump to conclusions. The boy could have a bug or the flu, because that was usually accompanied by muscle aches. Hell, gaining magic could be as uncomfortable as a shift, for all he knew.
“Ryan, does your skin feel prickly sometimes?”
The boy’s head shot up and his eyes met Ridge’s. Just like his mother’s eyes. Maybe a little darker? Almost…brown? “Yeah. How did you know?”
“How long has it been feeling that way?”
“Just today. Oh, here comes another one. It hurts so bad I have to squeeze my legs…” He flopped forward, grasping his bent legs tight to his chest.
It hurt Ridge to see the boy struggling against the pain, but he was so brave. He didn’t want to cry out, when any normal kid would surrender to the mysterious agony and yowl.
Deep inside, he felt pride for the boy’s bravery. And he knew why, but he wouldn’t think it. Not yet. Not until he was sure. But if he was on the right track, then they didn’t have much time. The shift—if it was the shift—would come upon the boy as soon as the moon was high in the sky. Didn’t need a full moon, either. Just moonlight.
That gave them about…three hours.
He checked the bars separating the cells. They were secured in the floor, but it looked as if they’d been drilled down into the concrete, and in fact, with a little jiggling, he was able to twist one of the bars.
Ryan lifted his head and he watched in wonder as Ridge bent the bar inward toward him and the bottom of it popped free.
“I thought you were hurt when they brought you in,” the boy said. “You’re strong. Stronger than those other nasty werewolves.”
“Be quiet, boy. We don’t want any of them coming down to check up on us.”
“Pizza should be coming soon.”
“Then we’d better work quickly. I’m going to need your help. You stand lookout, will you? Can you do that? If you’re hurting…”
“No, I can do it.” He crept to the bars by the door where Ridge had noticed the outer bars were secured with bolts to the concrete. He wouldn’t be able to bend and break those as easily. What he needed was the key.
“The skinny one with the leather wristband is the one with the key,” Ryan offered with a painful wince.
“Good boy.” Ridge was able to slip into the boy’s cell through the space he’d made in the bars. Ryan stiffened as he approached, so he stopped and put up his palms in placation. “Is it okay if I touch your forehead? Feel for fever? I promise, I’m not like the other wolves.”
“You know my mom?”
“Yes. I’ve been helping her the past two days, trying to get to you.”
The boy nodded. “Go ahead. You’re big.” The kid stretched his gaze up to Ridge’s. “Are you in a pack?”
He pressed the back of his hand to the boy’s forehead as he’d once seen Persia Masterson do when he was a young pup in the pack. “I’m the leader of the Northern pack.”
“Cool. Do you know those nasty wolves?”
“Nope, but if they’re working for a witch, I’d say they are unaligned with a pack, and that puts them on my list of bad guys.”
“Mine too. How do you know my mom?”
“We…go back a long way. Before you were born.”
“Do you like her?”
Not answering, he gave the boy an assessing look. No fever. But he could feel him shiver and his hands were chilled. “Are you cold?”
“A little. It’s the pricklies again. It feels like sharp hairs are trying to poke through my bones.”
“The pricklies, eh.” He knew that sensation. Too well.
“You didn’t say if you liked my mom.”
“I do like her. She’s beautiful, and kind.”
“And a witch. You know she’s a witch, right? And so am I. Or I’m supposed to be soon enough. Do you think this is it? Do you think I’m coming into my magic? I never thought it would hurt so much. Or maybe it doesn’t hurt so much as it’s just freaking me out.”
At the sound of footsteps overhead, he shushed the boy with a finger to his lips. Ridge rushed into his cell. He’d never be able to fit the bent-out bar back in place, so he hoped they’d notice the missing bar later rather than immediately. The basement door opened.
He picked up the bar and turned his back to the cell doors, concealing the bar along his body. “Tell me when he’s right at your door,” he whispered.
From the corner of his eye he saw Ryan nod. He clutched his gut and his face muscles tightened, but he did not cry out. Good boy.
“Now,” Ryan hissed.
Ridge shoved the bar through the other bars and connected with the jaw of the werewolf holding a pizza box. He slammed the bar and the wolf’s head against the cement wall. The wolf went down, crushing the pizza box under him and sprawling out cold.
Ryan gave him a thumbs-up as Ridge slipped through the bars again. He reached out for the keys dangling from the wolf’s jeans pocket, but couldn’t quite make the distance.
“Use the bar,” Ryan directed. “Oh, man, it feels like my skin is moving over my bones.”
Yet another familiar feeling. Ridge glanced down the dark hallway, but spied thin light at the end near the stairs. Moonlight?
He jerked the bar and the keys slid closer so he could grasp them. They hadn’t much time if the moon was already shining across the snow-covered fields.
* * *
Abigail had driven to the edge of town, but hadn’t wanted to get too far away from the meeting sight. The short drive had given her time to breathe deeply and settle her nerves. She was ready now. She could approach Miles and maintain calm, yet watch for the perfect time to use her magic against the witch, who was a master over fire.
They were equals when it came to fire magic. And she could defeat the bastard if she focused her anger inward and streamed it out concisely.
> Shifting into gear, she turned in time to see the headlights flash from the side of the truck. Before she could react, the oncoming vehicle collided into her door and the impact pushed the truck bed around. Her spine compressing and head snapping to the right, Abigail clutched the wheel and screamed.
Chapter 18
Ridge, with Ryan’s hand in his, raced from the building and out into the forest. The chill air bruised his cheeks and mouth and he realized neither of them had a coat, so he had to find shelter quickly.
He didn’t run full speed. The boy was slowing, more so with every second that passed. He wanted to get to the other side of the wooded area, where he heard distant traffic. They could flag down a car and catch a ride into town. He knew wherever she was, Abigail could take care of herself, so he focused on the boy right now.
But when Ryan dropped to the ground, he knew his worst expectations would come true. Worst, and yet, also beyond his hopes.
“I can’t,” Ryan said, gasping and huffing more than he should be. He clutched his chest and wriggled his shoulders as if trying to fight off some unseeable beast.
Ridge knew the beast would soon be visible.
“It hurts!”
He knelt before Ryan and rubbed his palms down the child’s trembling shoulders and arms, but the boy did not feel cold, rather hot, actually. Another telling sign. Ridge lifted his chin to force him to meet his eyes. “Ryan, I know what’s wrong with you.”
“What? This is awful. I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. And it’s freezing out here, but I’m burning up!”
“Crawling out of your skin is sort of what is happening. Hell. What I have to tell you is going to freak you out.”
“Why?” His narrow shoulders twitched and he jerked his head back, fighting what he should be embracing. “What do I have?”
“It’s not what you have, it’s what you are.”
“A…w-witch.” His body twitched and his head shook as he tensed against the weird sensations Ridge was all too familiar with. “Like…my mother. Th-this…sucks!”
“She was wrong. Your father wasn’t a witch. You’re not coming into magic, Ryan. Your father was a— Hell. How do I say this?”
