“You did this. You scratched and clawed at them. You strangled them first. And then you did horrible, inhuman things to them. You were like an animal,” her father told her as her mother sobbed behind him.
“I didn’t do this. I couldn’t have.”
“You’re violent. You attacked people at the hospital.”
She had. She couldn’t deny that, but never anything close to this. It looked like the work of a wolf, but she hadn’t been one until days earlier. She hadn’t done this. But who had? “Where did they find me?” she demanded.
“In the corner, crying. You were covered in blood but there were no marks on you. The doctor said you had some kind of psychotic break.”
That’s what had happened. It wasn’t the car accident. . . .
What she’d witnessed must’ve been so terrible that she blocked it from her memory to this day. Although she felt horror at the pictures, she honestly couldn’t remember those people, that night, at all. “Everyone really thinks I did this? You both think I was capable of this?” she whispered.
“We didn’t want to. But you did it, Gillian. We have to take responsibility because we adopted you without knowing your background. You have to take responsibility by living under the conditions we all agreed to, for the safety of others. You’re a danger. You need to be locked up,” her father said, and Gillian’s shoulders sagged.
Someone had set her up. How and why were the biggest questions and would remain unanswered for as long as she remained on lockdown here.
If she broke out, the bounty on her head would intensify. They would hunt her down. This story of what really happened that night might leak out, no matter how carefully her parents had buried it. “It wasn’t me.”
“Gillian, you don’t know how badly I want to believe that,” her father said sadly.
“I’m going to prove it to you, Father, if it’s the last thing I do,” she whispered as she felt the air move behind her. There were men approaching her. She smelled the drugs they carried, couldn’t let that happen again.
It was either go through her parents or fight and get drugged.
“Please move. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her mother gave a soft gasp. Her father said, “You couldn’t possibly hurt us any more than you already have.”
She jumped onto the railing, balancing herself and her parents jumped away in surprise, leaving her just enough clearance to move by them. Sister Wolf was struggling to get out, but she couldn’t let her. Not here.
“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” she kept repeating as soon as she ran through the hall. There was security at the door. With guns.
She veered left and leaped out the plate glass window closest to the woods that backed up the estate. She did it how she’d seen Jinx jump, limbs and head tucked to hopefully prevent glass from cutting anything major. She hit the ground still tucked in a ball with a hard thud and then, ignoring the pain, she went on, speeding through the night.
She was leaving a blood trail. She shifted, knowing Sister Wolf would heal faster. The blood would also get caught on the fur and leave behind less of a trail. Her wolf led her deep into the woods, circling as she went in an attempt to lose the men.
They’re going to send the dogs after me. And then the dogs from hell that protected her would go into damage control. She needed help, and fast.
She threw her head back and howled.
* * *
Jinx recognized the howl instantly. It was as distinctive as Gillian herself.
“She’s trapped,” he told Jez, who he’d met in the woods behind the Blackwells’ house. Jez had called him, frantic that Gillian had escaped. He’d trailed her here and Jinx couldn’t be angry at the vampire because he’d never seen Jez this distraught.
“I was distracted,” he muttered. “I know better.”
“She’s out, Jez. We’ll get to her,” Jinx said and then a howl came up and they both froze.
“We’d best do it before the hellhounds decide to help her,” Jez said in a slightly strangled tone of voice just as Gillian broke through the small clearing, shifting from Sister Wolf as she did so. She was obviously much faster than the men shooting at her through the trees, but they were still coming. He moved to grab for her as Jez said, “They’re surrounding us from all sides.”
“Gilly.”
“I’m okay,” she told him. But she was bleeding and covered in glass and obviously distraught. And she smelled as though they’d drugged her, which explained a lot. “I can’t see anything, but I feel it. The same thing I felt the other night.” She moved closer to Jinx and he stared at the circle of hellhounds that sat around them, at the ready.
“I think trappers are coming to the aid of the Blackwell security team,” Jez said. “Rogue’s getting the truck as close as he can.”
For the first time in his life, Jinx hoped to hell the trappers backed off.
“Jinx, what are you going to do?” Jez asked.
“Whatever we need to,” Jinx said. Fighting would give them away. So would shifting. They were trapped and the hellhounds knew it. He whispered, “You leave them alone,” but this time, they weren’t listening.
One minute they were there and the next, gone. He couldn’t see them anymore, only the men coming at them with UZIs and the trappers coming along the other side. But then came the bloodcurdling screams and the men all stopped in their tracks.
Rather, they were stopped.
To the average eye, it looked incredibly violent but oddly so. Humans were getting slashed, ripped apart by something invisible. Gillian moved away from the bloodbath, hid against a large tree, pressing her face into her palms as though that could make all of this go away.
Jinx wished it could be that easy. Calling off the hounds now wouldn’t make a damned bit of difference. He’d been in danger and so had Gillian. They were pledging their loyalty.
Trappers weren’t exactly innocents, but surely, no one deserved to die like this.
“We need to run, Gilly,” he managed and together, they ran through the blood and gore, Jez flying along with them into the night.
Chapter 35
This time, Gillian made sure to keep pace with Jinx, refusing to leave him behind. Jez was somewhere above them and finally, in the distance, she saw Rogue’s truck waiting for them. The back doors popped open and she went in first, followed by Jinx. His door wasn’t fully closed before Cain took off. Rogue rode shotgun and he turned to check on them.
“We’re okay,” Jinx managed and he was lying, but she understood why. They were all three shaken to the core by what they’d seen. The hellhounds were no longer taking any kind of direction from Jinx. She supposed she should be grateful that they hadn’t turned on them.
Or maybe we just got away in time.
She shuddered at that thought and Jinx put a firm hand on her thigh. “It’s going to be all right.”
“You’re angry I turned myself over to them. But I had to give them one last chance.” And they’d let her down again. “What they believed me capable of . . .”
“They aren’t . . . they don’t know wolf. They saw the signs, misinterpreted them.” Jinx flailed for an explanation. “Fuck, family can let you down sometimes.”
She reached out, traced the scratch marks on his neck, half-hidden by the collar on his jacket. “Is this from family?”
“Yeah. I asked for it. I deserved it,” he muttered. “Where are we going?”
“To the mansion,” Rogue answered.
“No argument,” Jinx said.
“I think the vampire’s on the roof,” Cain told them, but he drove fast anyway. “I’m assuming he’s good at hanging on.”
Jez was, jumped off unscathed in the Dire’s garage and helped Rogue get the couple out of the truck. Gwen was waiting for them, led Gillian into one of the examining rooms and started by getting the glass out of Gillian’s skin. It was an excruciatingly long process but Gwen did it expertly, carefully digging out the smaller bits that had been embedd
ed.
She’d forced herself to start to heal fast. But her skin had healed over the bulletproofed, double – paned glass, which made the removal process worse than it had to be. Gwen told her that so she could keep it in mind for next time. Because, for the Dires, there was always a next time.
“I was worried they’d track the blood,” she explained. “I thought the glass would push out.”
“It’s all right. You did good, Gillian. And you’re safe,” Gwen assured her. But she looked over at Jinx and Jez and Rogue, knowing they all heard the not-so-gentle hum of the hellhounds vibrating the house.
Whether they were protecting them or waiting to attack was anyone’s guess.
“I’m almost done,” Gwen said. If she heard them, she didn’t acknowledge it, but she was in deep concentration mode. “There. You’re good. I’ll just put on ointment and they’ll be healed up before morning.”
Morning was the only thing that would get rid of the hellhounds. At least that was the way it worked in the past and Gillian had never been more grateful for a sunrise in her life. After Gwen dressed her wounds and helped her sponge off and dress, again in Gwen’s clothes, which was getting to be habit, the female Dires joined the males up in the kitchen.
They were all there, and Jez as well, gathered around the table, sitting on counters. There was coffee and breakfast and Vice was holding the baby and looked perfectly comfortable doing so. The dichotomy wasn’t something Gillian thought she’d ever get used to.
“I owe you all an apology, especially Jinx,” she started and all eyes turned to her. “I went to try to get my parents to stop running the stories. I thought if they saw that I was all right, they’d back off. But now I know why they’re so anxious to keep me locked up.”
Her voice broke a little and Jinx was by her side, his arm around her shoulder. She could do this. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I don’t remember it.”
“Tell us, Gillian,” Rifter said and she nodded, told Stray, “Look up this date.”
She rattled it off and Stray typed fast into the ever-present laptop in front of him.
“There’s nothing,” he said with a shake of his head.
“It’s buried. A small article, nowhere near the front page.”
“I found it,” Stray said. “It’s pretty innocuous, just mentions a few teenagers killed in a home invasion. But it doesn’t give names or anything.”
“I can give you names,” she said, and she did, listing the three teens savaged that night. “I was there. My parents think I killed them. And I saw the pictures . . . the damage was done by a wolf. A Dire wolf.”
They all stared at her, stunned. She continued, “I must’ve blacked out. Blocked it out. I still can’t remember what happened. All I know is that the police found me and my parents told them I was in shock and then made up some story about drunk driving to me. I agreed to let them put me in the hospital, to get better, but they’d planned on locking me up and throwing away the key so what really happened would never leak out. I was the only witness. The kids who were killed were from prominent families.”
“There’s still an active investigation on for the killer,” Stray told her. “You’re mentioned as being traumatized and unable to remember anything.”
“I want to see those pictures,” Rifter said.
“I’m on it,” Stray said. He left the room with his phone and Jinx urged Gillian to sit down at the table. Even though her nerves were on overdrive, her stomach growled and she couldn’t deny the need to eat. She had to keep her strength up, be prepared for anything.
Gwen passed her hot food and coffee and they all ate in relative silence, save for the baby’s cooing.
“We don’t think you did it, Gillian. Just for the record,” Killian said finally and the others nodded in agreement.
“How can you be so sure when I’m not?” she asked.
“We’ve got pretty good instincts,” Jinx told her.
“I don’t even think you would’ve been capable of what you’re describing,” Gwen added.
“She’d have to have been shifted,” Rifter agreed, just as Stray came back into the kitchen. After a few taps on his laptop, he turned it over to Rifter. “Good thing someone owed me a favor—this shit was buried by the Blackwells.”
“These markings were definitely made by a shifted Dire. There’s no way she did this,” Rifter confirmed and Stray agreed as everyone but Gillian had a look over Rifter’s shoulder. “But a wolf definitely did.”
“And it left me alive. Which meant . . . it knew what I was,” Gillian murmured. “A wolf tried to frame me.”
“A Dire,” Rifter said. “Which means the Greenland pack knows where you are. They have known.”
They all let the enormity of that—and the implications—settle in.
Finally, Gillian said, “If I had nothing to do with it, why did I just sit there and let it happen?”
“You were in shock. Or maybe the drinks were drugged. There’s nothing you could’ve done.” Gwen’s voice was gentle.
“I need to remember that night, Gwen. Can you help me?”
“I don’t know how to use hypnosis. That would be the only way I can think of, and I don’t even know if it would work on a Dire,” Gwen explained.
“I can do that. It’s not exactly hypnosis, but if you invite me in, I can find the memory,” Jez offered. She’d almost forgotten he was here, sitting quietly in the corner.
“Like a dreamwalk,” Rifter said, turning toward him.
“Similar. But I don’t think you can walk into a memory she’s not having,” Jez told him. “She’ll actually be telling the story as she relives it. But she still won’t remember it. And I think that’s best in this case. So are we going to do this?”
“Yes.” She was putting her mind in the hands of a vampire.
And you’re a wolf, don’t forget that.
Yes, nothing was ever going to be the same.
“I can only do this because you’re a young Dire,” Jez admitted, as though he didn’t like giving away his secrets. “I’ll zone you out. You’ll go to sleep and you’ll wake up fine when I bring you out of it.”
She nodded and Jez walked over and touched his palm to her forehead. Her eyes closed automatically. She was aware of sleeping, practically on her feet, but that sensation was overshadowed quickly by the flickering of memories—everything flashed through her mind, like she was flipping through a photo book . . . until she got to that night and she walked into the memory.
She was warm. A sticky August night, a small party at a friend’s house before they went out to a club.
“I was grounded, so I had to sneak out the window,” she said, heard herself talking even as she watched herself walk out the window of the Blackwell Estate, sneak through the woods and into a waiting car.
“It’s Jory. He’s waiting for me in his convertible. We drive alone with the top down, music blasting.” She felt her hair blowing in the breeze, smelled the smoke from Jory’s cigarette. When they pulled up, she said, “It’s Julie’s house.”
Julie McFadden, heir to McFadden Enterprises. Her parents, like Gillian’s, were rarely home. This night was no exception. She knew all the others there, said their names out loud as she looked at each of them.
“I started drinking right away. Shots. Some champagne.” She tasted it. “I took a few hits from Jory’s bong. We put on some music. It’s all casual and fun and relaxed.”
It was the kind of night where you’d never expect anything to go wrong.
She reached out to grab Jory’s hand when it all went to hell. She didn’t know if she was actually holding Jez’s hand or not, but she wasn’t letting go. Not until Jory was ripped away from her. Her hand, arm ached from being jerked from his grasp.
What was it? She didn’t look. Couldn’t. She slid down the wall, buried her face in her knees. She couldn’t block out the screaming. All she could do was wait for her turn.
Look up, look up. . . .
But
she hadn’t. She stayed curled up until the screaming stopped and hours had passed. Until day turned to night and the day staff came. And then there was more screaming.
She didn’t know who was lifting her, taking her away, the smell of blood in her nostrils.
“Gillian, come back to me.” Jinx’s voice, a seductive whisper. Her bad-boy wolf.
She opened her eyes. “I want to take a ride on the back of your bike.”
Jinx nodded in agreement. Gathered her in his arms and walked past everyone to the garage. She climbed on behind him, wrapped her arms around his broad chest, tucked her head against his back and welcomed the blast of cold air.
Jinx drove fast, like he was trying to outrun both their demons. The harder he pushed the bike, the more it vibrated between her legs, revving her up. She let everything fall away into the wind. And when he stopped, she opened her eyes. They were in the middle of the woods, and as much as she wanted to run, she wanted Jinx more.
* * *
Rifter was furious, but he’d managed to hold back until Gillian left with Jinx so as not to scare her. “I want the leader of the Greenland pack. I want to fight him. I want his head on a stick.”
“And then what happens? You take over their pack?” Gwen asked.
“Yeah,” Rogue said. “They’d be under his kingship. Which, technically, they should be anyway.”
“I guess the Elders forgot to mention that,” Stray said. “We’ll help with anything you need, Rifter. But we’ve got to figure out why they’d set up one of their own like this. She was a baby—she couldn’t have done anything. And why frame her? Why not kill her?”
Rifter stilled. “Because she can’t be killed.”
“Which meant they knew about her ability from before she was born. We all had ours from birth, but they didn’t manifest until we were a couple of years old,” Kill pointed out. “But you’re right—it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“There’s a hidden ability that her family would’ve known would come out. So they tried to hide her in the human world. It’s entirely possible the Blackwells had no idea what she is,” Gwen said.
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