Savaged

by Mia Sheridan

  The earth fell out from under them and then there was only falling, only the thunder of the falls all around. The needle-sharp pain of the icy water as it hit her skin. Harper’s scream was snatched up in the wild roar. Jak’s hand gripped tighter. He wouldn’t let her go. She knew he wouldn’t. He’d already proven it once before.

  Hold on, she heard through the rush of water.

  Hold on.

  That whisper inside, deep down, and yet filling her head, her heart, her soul. She was only sensation now, only instinct and the will to live, and she heard it so clearly. She knew the voice. That whisper. It had belonged to her mother.

  She couldn’t hold her breath any longer. Her lungs were burning, her body being battered, flailing as the thunderous fall went on and on and on.

  Then the jarring impact of hitting the surface, her lungs screaming, hand gripping, gripping. He was gripping back. They were together, plunging down, down, and then back up, up, his powerful legs kicking mightily, pulling them both toward the light above, as her lungs caught fire and she tried to hold on, hold on, head bursting, lights blinking until—

  She opened her mouth and took a gasping breath just as they broke the surface, air rushing in and filling her screaming lungs.

  Then back under, the current pulling them as they tumbled, their arms stretching.

  Hold on. Hold on.

  The deadly rapids were ahead. Harper tried desperately to grab at something. Anything that would hold them steady, keep them from entering that rocky portion of water that would drag them under, keep them there.

  “Grab this!” a deep voice yelled. Harper gasped, not able to see who had said it with the spray of water, but spotting the large, heavy branch just in front of them.

  She tried to swim toward it but the current pulled her away. Jak’s grip increased and with a yell, he pulled them both closer, swimming against the current, both of them working together to make it close enough to the branch to grab hold.

  Jak let out a mighty yell, moving them closer, and Harper reached out and grabbed the end of it, barely. She slipped, grabbed again, held on until Jak could come from behind her and grab hold of it too, both of them gasping for breath, anchored to that small piece of wood in a roaring, cauldron of bubbling, circling water.

  “Keep holding on. Don’t let go.” Agent Gallagher? It was Agent Gallagher, somehow impossibly, there. He pulled the branch, towing them in against the tide, grunting with the effort, slipping—oh, God—but regaining balance, pulling, pulling. They met the shore, and he reached out his hand pulling her up the bank, Jak behind her. They both collapsed on the muddy riverbank, gasping for air, soaking wet, shaking.

  Their hands still clasped.

  Together.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Jak pulled Harper closer, though there really wasn’t any way to get much closer than they currently were. Unless he took her to bed, which he wanted to—desperately. He wanted to roll around with her, sniffing her everywhere, taking, grunting, and howling with the thankfulness of life—

  No. Those are wolf thoughts, he reminded himself. But she liked the wolf in him, he knew that too. He nuzzled her neck, pulling the hospital blanket more tightly around her to make sure she was warm. Now, if they would let them out of this hospital with all the intense, unknown smells that were tickling his nose and fogging his brain.

  Although he knew he’d come back the next day. His grandfather was on another floor, in what they called a coma. Jak’s heart tightened. He was surprised at the sadness that filled him when he thought about his grandfather not getting better.

  But he had Harper, and he had his own life, and that’s what he focused on.

  Agent Gallagher—Mark, though he still had a hard time thinking of him that way—had pulled Jak and Harper, soaking wet, freezing cold, and half-drowned out of the water just a few . . . feet, yes, he knew that measurement now . . . just a few feet from the start of the swirling, rocky rapids.

  Mrs. Gallagher—Laurie—had found the note in Harper’s apartment and sent Mark to find them, but there had been a downed tree across the road that led to the top of the falls, so he’d ended up at the bottom instead. Thank God. If Dr. Swift had arranged the road being blocked, it had worked out perfectly for Jak and Harper. Turned out, Mark was right where they’d needed him to be.

  Dr. Swift had disappeared. There was a hunt to capture him.

  Harper turned her head, kissing his fingers where they lay at her shoulder, then lacing her hand with his. She looked back at him. “During the fall . . . I heard my mother.” She looked down, her lashes making shadows on her cheeks. “She was with us both, Jak. I think . . . all this time.” She looked up at him again, those big brown eyes that had stared at him at the edge of a snowy cliff in the long ago—no, fifteen years ago—and then today at the top of a waterfall and trusted him with her life. His chest expanded. He thought it might burst.

  He let out a breath, thinking about the way her mother’s notes had given him the will to live, to go on, when he’d given up on life, when the loneliness had taken and taken and taken until he had nothing left to give. She’d filled him again, with her voice, with the hopefulness of her thoughts, with questions to fill his head and his heart, and with words to remind him he was human. “Yes,” he said. “She was.”

  “My father too,” Harper said. “I believe it. I cherish all of it. It was for something, and it led us here. Jak, do you think you can find a way to believe that too?”

  He looked away for a second. He knew what she was asking. She was asking if he could let go of the hurt and the anger and the . . . bitterness over what had been done to him. If he could believe that greater forces . . . operated, and that those forces had guided him and loved him. He remembered how he’d felt her mother there with him—heard her whispers—when he’d found Driscoll dying in his cabin. Let it go, he’d heard deep inside, and he had, for that moment anyway, handing the man his phone when he’d asked for it. He knew now that Driscoll had called for help . . . bringing the deputy . . . who then brought Jak to the sheriff’s office . . . to . . . Harper. If he had followed his need for vengeance instead, ignored those whispers, leaving Driscoll to rot as he walked away, returned to his lonely life . . . but he didn’t want to think about that. He exhaled a slow breath. “I think so,” he said. And he meant it.

  He had seen what bitterness did to his grandfather. Vengeance. He would not become him.

  Let it go.

  Although now was the time for anger too. Not for himself, maybe, but for the other survivors out there who were living the same way he had, maybe worse. Killing, freezing, starving, loneliness shriveling their souls.

  What would happen to those people when they were found? Nobodies with nothing. Throwaways like he had been.

  The door opened and Laurie Gallagher rushed in, looking . . . hmm, he didn’t yet know the word for how Laurie looked in that moment. Worried, but beyond that. Harper stood, and so did he. Laurie made a crying sound in the back of her throat and rushed to Harper first, hugging her and then letting go, running her hands down her hair, touching her bandages and making clucking sounds, and looking at her face like she was trying to make sure she was really alive. Then she moved to Jak making the same clucking sound as she hugged him tightly and then stepped back, looking at them both.

  “I was so distraught when I heard. Oh my goodness, well, sit down. You must be traumatized.”

  Distraught. That was the word. Worried only in a way that made your hair fly around your head, your eyes get big and round, and your hands flap everywhere.

  Harper sat and so did Jak, as Laurie pulled up a chair and they told her what had happened on the edge of the waterfall. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she listened, blotting at them with a tissue and shaking her head. “Thank God he was there. I knew, I just knew something was wrong.” She grabbed Jak’s hand, squeezing. “I’m just so thankful you’re okay.” She shook her head again. “Oh dear, and your grandfather. How is he, Jak?”
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br />   “He’s in a coma,” Jak said. He didn’t remember the rest of the words the doctor had said because his step-grandmother had come in the room, and Jak had left as quickly as possible after that.

  Laurie squeezed his hand again, her eyes soft. “Whatever you need, Mark and I are here.” She looked up suddenly, letting go of his hand. “Oh, the press conference,” she said pointing at the TV, the show they’d been waiting to come on. Harper pressed the thing with buttons that made the sound on the television go up. He kept forgetting words because there were so many new ones running through his mind, and some were more important to him than others.

  Mark stepped in front of a microphone, looking very serious. “Today the Montana Department of Justice has been made aware of an unknown number of illegal and highly disturbing programs. These programs are being operated around the country using children who have been removed from the foster care system under false pretenses, and/or babies who are bought from mothers who are members of social programs, most especially drug or alcohol. We’re in the midst of specifically identifying who these children might be. These programs have been operating for many years. Some of the victims may currently be adults who have grown up in these programs.” He looked straight into the camera. “If you have any information regarding this crime, or if you are a person who was in a state-run program and asked to give up your child in exchange for money, or play a role for money, please contact us.” He paused and the crowd grew quiet. “If you are one of these children, please contact authorities immediately. You have been wronged, and we want you to help us put those who abused you behind bars.” He held up a photograph of Dr. Swift. “This man is a prime suspect and wanted for murder among a vast list of other crimes. If you see him or know of his whereabouts, please call the number on the screen. Do not approach him. He is armed and dangerous.”

  And angry, Jak thought. But . . . more angry. Enraged. Yes. He’d bet Dr. Swift was enraged. Just like Driscoll had been when he’d found out his mother had interfered with his study. Just like his grandfather had been . . . enraged enough to kill. But he hadn’t said a word about that.

  The crowd started yelling and Mark pointed to a woman in front. “Agent Gallagher, for what purpose are these children being taken? What is this program exactly?”

  “They’re being placed and studied in harsh environments to determine survival skills. Perhaps trained. Each camp, for lack of a better word, may be different. But they’re most likely being set up in remote areas miles from civilization. Then they’re being sold to those who wish to use their talents.”

  “Agent Gallagher,” a man near the back yelled. “How did you find out about this? What tipped you off?”

  “I’m not able to discuss that at this time.” He looked to the right and nodded at someone in a uniform, turning back to the still-yelling crowd. “That’s all the questions I can take right now. We’ll update as we get more information.”

  Mark stepped off the small stage and then the picture switched to two people sitting at a desk.

  “Wow, Marcia, this is quite a story. Unwanted kids being trained in underground camps to be . . . what? Elite soldiers?”

  The woman named Marcia shook her head. “I don’t know, Gary. It all just turns my stomach.”

  Gary nodded. “Although you have to admit, the idea, if executed properly, would have huge societal benefits.”

  Marcia’s mouth fell open. “You must be kidding. To achieve improvements in society, we turn to The Hunger Games? Is that it? Maybe eventually we could all get the abuse of these children in a feed straight to our mobile devices. Sounds riveting. A modern-day Roman coliseum.”

  Gary looked momentarily interested in the idea, but then laughed, holding his hands up. “Whoa, whoa. I’m just voicing what others are thinking too. Now, I’m not saying the moral ramifications of the idea aren’t too extreme to actually put into practice, I’m just saying, you have to understand your enemy to fight them. Or in this case, even find them.”

  “Going by your comments, I’m worried more people will want to become them rather than fight them.”

  Then the two people named Marcia and Gary, who must be very important for people to want to hear all their opinions, started talking about societies who fell to ruin, and other things Jak tuned out because he was too busy sniffing Harper’s hair. She still smelled like his Harper, but also like the river. He attempted to pull her closer again, and she came halfway up his lap. She looked back at him, and he gave her a bashful smile. She laughed softly, running her hand over his jaw.

  Laurie switched off the TV. “Well, that’s probably enough of that. When do you two get out of here?”

  “Hopefully any minute,” Harper said.

  “I’m sure you’re tired and want to sleep. But if you’re hungry, I could make dinner . . . oh, I’m sure you want to be alone.”

  Between them, Harper squeezed his hand.

  “Dinner with you and Mark would be good,” Jak said, meaning it.

  Laurie smiled like she’d just caught the biggest fish in the river. No, no, like . . . like she was happy they wanted to be with her. “Wonderful.”

  The door flung open and someone else rushed inside their room. “Rylee,” Harper said, standing up and hugging her friend.

  “Oh my God, I couldn’t believe it when I heard. Are you okay?” She stood back, looking at her the same way Laurie had.

  Two men came in the room and Harper smiled at them. “Hi, Jeff. Mr. Adams.”

  “Harper.” They both hugged her too and then turned to Jak and Laurie. Harper told them their names and told Jak and Laurie that they were Rylee and Jeff and Mr. Adams, even though he’d just heard that they were. Introductions, he remembered the word for that from his grandfather. Good manners.

  They all shook hands. Jak saw Rylee look at Harper and mouth oh my God, before she glanced at Jak and away. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t think it was good manners.

  “I’d love to have you all for dinner too if you’re available,” Laurie said, and Rylee took Harper’s hand in hers.

  “We’d love that.”

  Then everyone started talking at once, the way the birds did in the morning, happy to be alive for another sunrise and chitter-chattering to tell the whole forest about it. Or like . . . well, that was good enough for now. He couldn’t second-guess every thought in his head. Civilized thoughts would come naturally to him someday . . . probably.

  Harper met Jak’s eyes and they gentled. She smiled and his brain went empty the way it did each time she looked at him that way. I love you, she mouthed. He mouthed it back. He loved her. He worshipped her. He cherished her. He would forever. And that was all.

  That was all.

  EPILOGUE

  The fire crackled, shadows dancing on the library walls. Jak smiled, brought from his daze, as the scent of the woman he loved met his nose. “Hello, wife.”

  Harper laughed softly, coming around the chair and taking a seat on his lap. “Will I ever be able to sneak up on you?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing her cheek against his stubbly jaw.

  He smiled on an exhaled breath, nuzzling into her touch. “Maybe.” He expected that his sense of smell would become . . . less once he’d been living in civilization for long enough, and now that he didn’t depend on his senses for his survival.

  “Hmm,” she hummed, kissing him softly. He ran his hand over the small swell of her stomach, their child cradled within the safety of her body. For the next five months anyway. Then it would be his job to protect them both. To make sure they were fed and warm and that their hearts were full. He never took that third part for granted after a lifetime of only being able to address physical needs. And often, not even those. A shiver of gratitude moved through him. My family. The two words still made his breath catch with happiness.

  Awe.

  He and Harper married six months after they’d survived their jump from Amity Falls. No one had been able to convince him th
ere was any reason to wait, though Agent—Mark—Gallagher had sat him down and given him a “man-to-man” talk about the “prudence of patience,” and the “wisdom of waiting.” He respected Mark, but he wanted a ring on Harper’s finger. His ring, and that was all. He wanted everyone to know that she was his and he was hers. As soon as he’d learned that’s what people did when they were in love and wanted the world to know, he’d asked Harper immediately. And she’d said yes. He was overjoyed that she didn’t agree that it was prudent or wise to wait. They were married in the Gallagher’s backyard under a summer sunset, surrounded by their new and old friends. Jak thought of them as their pack and he didn’t deny himself the thought. The feeling. The way it made him feel connected. Maybe his senses would grow less, maybe not, but a part of him would always be wild—the boy who’d grown up alongside a wolf who he’d loved like a brother—and to deny that, would be to deny Pup. To deny all that had brought him to the life he now lived. The life he loved with all his heart.

  The baby had been unexpected, but since they’d both become used to the idea, they couldn’t stop smiling about it. They’d lie in bed at night just talking for hours about what he or she was going to be like, the things they wanted to teach their son or their daughter, the miracle of the life they’d created after they’d both cheated death more than once. And that tiny miracle made Jak want to learn everything he could about how to be a good father. A good pack leader. Mark and Laurie would help them. They’d already asked if they would act as grandparents to their baby and Laurie had cried, and Mark had pretended that he had something in his eye.

  Jak had reached out to Almina Kavazović—who he couldn’t help still thinking of as Baka—just a few months earlier and though Jak wasn’t sure what the future held as far as their relationship, he had needed to tell her he forgave her, and that she had been with him during so many times of struggle and loneliness. She had been his strength, and the reminder of his own. He had felt Harper’s mother—his priest, his Abbé Busoni—smiling down on him as he told her so.