by Celia Kyle
Scrambling back down, she searched for anything she could use as leverage, settling for a broken putty knife she found in a box. The edge slid easily under the board, but no amount of prying would loosen it. Skimming it along all the edges she could reach, she cut whatever caulk had been used to affix it to the concrete wall, yet it still wouldn’t budge.
Rachel’s heart pounded faster than ever. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she had to find out what lay beyond the board. Digging her shaking fingers under the edge, she wriggled and wrenched until the board cracked. After that, the rotten plywood gave way easily and fell to the floor with a sodden flump.
Moonlight and fresh air hit her face like a refreshing slap. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she couldn’t waste time celebrating this small victory. Now that they had an exit strategy, they need to move quickly.
“Eric,” she whispered as loudly as she dared. “I have a new job for you.”
Her activity, and no doubt the fresh air billowing into the dank basement, had drawn Eric out of his corner. The moonlight shining down on him lit up his worried and curious gaze.
“Okay,” he whispered back.
“I’m going to lift you up, so you can crawl out that window, okay?”
He frowned. “Me? What about you, Rachel?”
“Don’t worry about me, little man. The window’s too small for me. I’ll push you through and then you run as fast and far as you can to safety. Got it?”
His little chest hitched, and his lower lip pooched out. Fear rolled off him in waves so powerful Rachel nearly stumbled backward.
“No,” he said, shaking his head frantically. “Not without you.”
Rachel pulled him into a fierce hug and buried her face in his neck to breathe him in. They clung to each other, both crying silently at the prospect of being torn apart, but she quickly ended the embrace. The time for tears was over. Now was the time for action.
“I know you’re scared,” she said, wiping away the sheet of wetness from his grimy face. “I am too. But we both have to be brave and strong.”
He sniffed and looked up at her with world-weary eyes. “Like Gavin?”
“Yes, exactly like Gavin.”
“B-but Gavin would get us both free.”
“I know, little man, but Gavin isn’t here. I’m sure he’s out searching for us, but no one knows where we are. Not even us. That’s why I need to you to be a big boy and go find help.”
He glanced at the window and then at her. Then he blinked, and everything changed. He stood a tiny bit straighter and his face slackened with acceptance. He was ready.
Lifting him in her arms, she held him tightly for a moment. “Remember, run fast, fast, fast, okay?”
He nodded somberly and looked up at the window, his eyes as round as the moon.
“And remember, Eric. I love you. More than the moon and the stars and the sun in the sky. Always remember that, okay?”
His gaze dropped to her face and he laid one precious hand on her cheek. “Don’t worry, Rachel. I’m going to find Gavin. Then he’ll kill Paul and we can go home. I promise, forever and ever, cross my heart, hope to get turned into a slug.”
Rachel couldn’t stop a sob-laugh from bursting out of her. She wanted to tell Eric not to worry about any of that, not to blame himself if they never saw each other again, but the words stuck in her throat. The best she could do was kiss his forehead and boost him through the window.
“I’ll be back,” he whispered through the darkness, and then his shadow disappeared.
A loneliness like she’d never known rolled over her. She was truly and undeniably alone. Pretty soon, Paul would wake up and discover what she’d done. But just like every time he hit her, the punishment would taste sweet to her. Only Eric’s survival mattered. Gavin would find him and love him and hopefully wipe this nightmare from his memory forever. If that meant forgetting her, that was fine by her, as long as her boy lived.
Chapter Nineteen
She’s close.
Gavin’s mate connection with Rachel gave him limited comfort. She was alive and close, that much he knew in his gut, but he didn’t know where or what her kidnapper might be doing to her. Or Eric.
“Keep growling like that and you might miss a vital clue, little brother,” Mason said from the passenger seat of Gavin’s SUV.
Gavin bit off the deep rumbling coming from his wolf, but the blood pounding in his ears would deafen him more quickly than a growl. He navigated the truck over the bumpy roads toward the most remote section of pack lands, the likeliest place Paul Gibson would take Rachel and Eric. It didn’t take a genius to figure out a wolf so close to turning feral would always find his way back to the forest, and the Blackwood lands were the closest to Ashwood.
“We’ll find her, Gavin,” Kade said from the back seat
“Them,” Mason corrected. “We’ll find them. Nearly every Blackwood sentry is out searching for them. I’ve contacted every pack in Georgia to keep an eye out, and you’ve put an APB out for the minivan. We’ll find them.”
The only question was whether they’d find them in time.
When the road ran out, Gavin parked and they all scrambled out of the SUV, ready to strip and shift into their wolf forms to commence searching. Darkness couldn’t stop a wolf from sniffing out his mate. Just as he reached for his belt buckle, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
“What’s up, Anders?” he said without ceremony.
“We just found fresh tire tracks on one of the old mountain cut-offs.”
Gavin gave his brothers a meaningful look. “Which one?”
“The one that leads to the craggy rock.”
Gavin craned his neck and glanced at the tip of the bluff ahead. “We’re not far from there. Stay put. We’ll be there in five.”
Without a word, he sprinted into the trees, letting his brothers follow at will. He would have moved faster in his wolf form, but he wanted to inspect the scene with his analytical mind before allowing his animal instincts to take over. His wolf might miss clues only his human mind could process.
Every step took a thousand years and the craggy bluff never seemed to get any closer, which amped up his heartbeat. It had been a full day since Rachel had disappeared, and every cell in his body screamed in torment. He needed to see his family, to hold them, to smell them. He needed them to be safe. And he couldn’t do that until he found them.
After a million years, he finally spotted Anders and Quinn through the trees. They both stood at attention, tense and staring hard in the direction of the Blackwood brothers. They probably suspected it was their Ruling Circle, but they were on high alert, just in case they were wrong. Good men.
“It’s me,” Gavin called as he broke through the tree line and immediately dropped to all fours to inspect the tire marks.
Calling the rough track a road was being generous. It had once been used for logging, many generations earlier, and had rarely been used since. The vehicle that had recently passed by clearly wasn’t outfitted with four-wheel drive, judging from the deep ruts dug into the soft dirt when the driver found a boggy spot in the road. The relatively small tires and long wheelbase suggested a minivan instead of an SUV, and best of all, the driver spun out trying to free the van, piling up the mud in a way that showed exactly which direction the van had been traveling. Deeper into the forest.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Gavin said turning to his sentries and brothers, heedless of the fact he was giving orders to the alpha. “We’re going to shift and slowly follow the tracks as far as we can. Hopefully we can pick up a scent. If anyone smells or sees anything out of place, anything at all, don’t think, just signal. Got it?”
Gavin remained on his knees as the others undressed and shifted, partly to confirm he wasn’t deluding himself that the tracks probably came from a minivan and partly to hide the rising sense of panic inside. Every minute counted in a kidnapping and nearly fifteen hundred had passed since Rachel walked out the back door of th
e diner. Too long, too long.
Not wanting to waste another second, he jumped to his feet and started to strip. His brothers’ wolves flanked him, waiting for him to lead the way. But before he managed to undo two shirt buttons, the cracking of branches drew their attention.
All four wolves bared their teeth and growled in the direction of the approaching animal. Anders and Quinn slunk forward a few paces, drool spattering onto the dirt, waiting for their enforcer’s cue to strike. It was probably just a deer frightened by the scent of a wolf pack, but they had to be prepared for the possibility Paul Gibson was on his way to attack them.
The night breeze shifted direction, bringing with it a faint whiff of the beach. Gavin took a deep breath, hoping with everything he had in him that he wasn’t wrong. And there it was. Fresh baked chocolate chip cookies.
Eric!
Ignoring everything and everyone else, Gavin darted into the woods as fast as his human feet would carry him. He could smell the panic on the boy, and if something or someone was chasing him, Gavin wanted to reach him first. He caught a flash of red through the leaves and crouched low. As the small blur of red almost rushed past him, Gavin scooped the boy into his arms and hugged him tightly. Or as tightly as he could while the kid was screaming, snarling and struggling against him.
“It’s okay,” he crooned to the frantic child, but Eric was too panicked to hear.
Instead he sank needle-like teeth deep into Gavin’s bicep, shaking his head like a dog trying to kill a gopher. His entire frame trembled, and not just from the deep growling coming from deep inside him. Ignoring the tiny bit of pain from Eric’s teeth and nails, Gavin held on to him.
“It’s me, sport. It’s Gavin. I’m here. I’m here. Shh…”
Eric stilled and then released his hold on Gavin’s arm. Huge brown eyes looked up at Gavin, the terror draining away, only to be replaced with tears. His lower lip began to tremble, matching the shaking of his body. Then the tears came. He buried his face in Gavin’s chest and his body jerked with huge, heartbreaking sobs.
Gavin was vaguely aware his brothers and sentries had surrounded them, protecting them from any outside threats while Gavin dealt with the child. He rocked the boy gently, smoothing his hair and breathing in his heavenly scent. He could have stood there all night like that if it wasn’t for one very important and very pressing issue.
“Eric, I know you’re scared, but you need to tell me where Rachel is. Okay, sport? Where’s Rachel?”
“S-she’s in the basement,” he said with a loud hiccup. “She lifted me out the window, but when the mean wolf finds out what she did—” The thought was cut off by another ragged sob.
Gavin pulled the boy’s head to his chest and kissed the top of his head. “It’s okay, none of that now. Don’t you worry about Rachel. I’m going to follow your trail back to her, but you have to stay here with Uncle Mason and Uncle Kade while I teach that mean wolf to never touch what belongs to us. Rachel is ours, right?”
Eric nodded weakly against Gavin’s chest and then whispered, “I told her you’d save us. I knew you’d come.”
The boy’s faith in him nearly buckled his knees. That same itchy, burning sensation behind his eyes returned, only this time he knew the cause. Love. And that love gave him the strength to release Eric and set him on the ground. Mason’s massive black wolf nuzzled the boy’s head, easing any remaining tension in Eric. He flung his little arms around Mason’s neck and hugged him hard.
On any other day, Gavin would have stayed to watch Mason’s heart melt into a big, mushy puddle, but he was on a mission. He had to find his mate before it was too late. Oblivious to his shredding clothes and the wolfy grumbles from his brothers to go slow and be safe, Gavin shifted mid-stride.
Fuck slow. Fuck safe. And most of all, fuck Paul Gibson.
Dark fur bristled in the breeze as he bolted through the forest, his nose high in the air as he easily followed Eric’s fresh scent. The poor kid could have followed the track Paul had taken in the minivan, but in his panic, he’d run straight into the thick of the forest. That explained the scratches on the boy’s arms and face, but not the ugly black eye he sported. That took time to develop.
Paul Gibson would pay for that. For all of it. And Gavin was fresh out of shits to give how that particular job got done.
Skidding to a stop at the edge of a clearing, Gavin studied the rickety shack in the center. The upper level of the cabin was dark, but a hint of light glowed near the ground. The basement, presumably.
He wanted to run to the basement window to rescue Rachel, but his wolf’s instincts took hold. He needed to be sure it wasn’t a trap, so he snuffled the air. Eric’s scent was fresh and strong, but behind it, much fainter, lay Rachel’s buttery aroma mixed with the stomach-churning smell of Pine-Sol and roses. The faintness of the scents meant neither had been outside in some time, making the odds of being ambushed low.
Emerging from the tree line with a renewed sense of purpose, Gavin prowled boldly into the clearing, not bothering with trying to hide his presence. He wanted Paul to attack him. Just thinking of the scumbag set him snarling. The snarl turned into a deep, primal growl. Planting himself about twenty feet from the only door into the shack, he let the growl bubble up into an ear-splitting howl of challenge.
A wolf in good health wouldn’t have taken longer than a few seconds to run outside, but it took two more howls—each more intense than the last—for Paul Gibson to stumble to the door and lean against the doorframe like a half-deflated balloon. A well-used whiskey bottle hung limply from the man’s hand and the strong smell of booze wafted off him.
“You,” Paul said, narrowing his pale green eyes at Gavin. “Iss all yer fault.”
Gavin hesitated. Not only was the motherfucker obviously sick—physically and mentally—he was also drunk as a skunk. As pissed off as Gavin was, killing a half-dead, totally wasted wolf hardly seemed fair. Even one who’d kidnapped his mate and pup.
Then the bottle slipped from Paul’s fingers. Before it bounced off the spongy porch, Paul had shifted, and his light brown wolf was flying through the air. Gavin didn’t waste time wondering if Paul had been faking his weakened state. He simply reacted.
Bracing himself for the full brunt of Paul’s weight, Gavin lurched to the side at the last second, letting the wolf fly past and tumble to the ground. Paul rolled around in the dirt, trying to gain his feet, when Gavin pounced.
Snapping at Paul’s throat, he managed to get a mouthful of fur before the wolf wrenched free and scrambled to his feet. Gavin was already back on his own, circling the other and lusting for the taste of blood, by the time Paul cast his crazy gaze on him. For the first time, Gavin got a good look at his opponent.
Froth collected at the corner of other wolf’s muzzle as his drool spattered on his own paws. His patchy fur had thinned in some spots, matted in others and a healthy notch had been taken out of his left ear. His entire body—still very strong in his wolf form—twitched as his muscles bunched in preparation for another attack. Gavin saw it coming from a mile away and easily sidestepped him.
This wasn’t nearly as satisfying as Gavin had hoped it would be. As strong and fast as Paul’s wolf might have been, Gavin was ten times stronger and faster. He’d fantasized about sinking his teeth into the asshole’s neck, tasting his blood on his tongue, hearing and feeling that telltale crunch when his neck snapped. But standing there watching the wolf try to muster enough strength for another attack, Gavin wondered if he shouldn’t simply take him into custody and let the NRC deal with him.
Paul’s wolf panted heavily as he spun around from his failed attack. He stared hard at Gavin, as if weighing his options. Bunching his muscles again, he sprang once more, and once more Gavin deftly moved to the side in plenty of time to avoid the beast. But in the few seconds it took Gavin to reposition himself in preparation for yet another pathetic assault, Paul had darted right past him and into the bowels of the cabin.
It was a fake-out!
<
br /> He’d already disappeared from view by the time Gavin bolted after him. There was only one reason Paul would run inside, and she happened to be locked in the basement. Paul must have realized he stood no chance against Gavin’s superior strength and decided to go for his Achilles heel—Rachel.
Time slowed down as Gavin took the porch in one leap. Terror and rage pushed every other emotion out of his mind as he raced blindly into the cabin. If Paul ambushed him, Gavin would welcome it. At least he wouldn’t be hurting Rachel.
But nothing and no one jumped out at him as he tore through the front room, where a moldy mattress lay in one corner. In the dim light of the kitchen, Gavin found Paul pawing at a latch on a door. It swung free and Paul darted into the darkness before Gavin could reach him.
A scream echoed up the stairwell and every hair on Gavin’s body stood on end. Hurtling down the stairs, he slammed headfirst into a stack of boxes and crates that had been stacked up against the wall. Snarling and biting at the boxes, he clawed his way out to find Rachel backed into a corner with Paul’s snarling wolf advancing on her.
Shift! Gavin shouted at her with his mind, hoping she heard him.
But she remained perfectly still, her palms outstretched toward the rabid wolf and a serene smile playing on her lips. A tremendous power filled the room, like none he’d ever experienced, and then his own fury melted away on a warm, gentle wave.
Freeing himself from the boxes, he took a few steps closer and saw a docile expression flickering on and off the other wolf’s face. One moment he looked as peaceful as Gandhi, and the next his eyes would flash with hatred. But the longer Rachel stared at Paul, the calmer he became.
Instead of shifting, she’d chosen to use her omega skills to calm the beast, and it almost seemed as if he welcomed her influence. The ruffled fur running along his spine lay down and his snarl turned into a gentle pant. Sitting back on his haunches, he stared up at Rachel with adoration, his tail thumping the dirt floor joyfully.
