Brendan's Fate (Wolves' Heat)

by Odessa Lynne

  Matthew laughed at him, just a soft low puff of air. “Yeah, if we could afford the halfgas to run it. We ran out a couple of weeks ago. Used the last of it on that last raid. We should be getting a resupply soon, or that’s what you said when we were getting ready to head out that night.”

  Brendan shrugged and started walking. He led the way into the woods, and he could tell Matthew was hanging back to keep pace with Brendan’s slow gait, impeded as it was by the brace on his foot.

  “I don’t know where we’re going,” Brendan said. “You’re going to have to lead.” At least for a while, he thought. Trey—if he was alive—would be coming for him. He knew that as sure as he knew he didn’t want to hang around here and wait for this Jay fellow to show up.

  “This is your—fuck. It’s hard to think about all the stuff you probably don’t know right now.”

  “I didn’t even know my name when I woke up.”

  Matthew pointed off into the distance, through the dark. “We should go without the flashlights as long as possible even though it’s dangerous. Too easy for someone to pinpoint us.”

  “How far did you haul me?”

  “About two hour’s worth. Thought you’d wake up before we got here but you didn’t.”

  “How long did it take once we got here?”

  “Fifteen minutes or so.”

  Brendan thought of what he knew of Trey. Trey could cover an hour’s worth of distance in a remarkable amount of time, not because he was faster than Brendan would’ve been without the broken ankle, but because Trey could keep up his top speed for a long time without a need for rest, something he’d proven yesterday while carrying Brendan across his shoulders.

  Something about this whole thing didn’t feel right. Why would there be a cabin so close to where Trey and him had been traveling after almost two days of walking in the woods? Not only that but there were others like Trey after him, and going off into the woods after dark like this seemed like a stupid idea now that he was under the cover of trees where he couldn’t see much more than shadows and he could step into a hole and break a leg as easy as he could trip over a dead branch.

  But what the hell were his options? What else could he do? Wait for this Jay to show up—a guy Matthew didn’t trust at all and that Brendan didn’t remember at all—and hope Trey beat the guy here, or head into the woods to look for Trey and hope the other wolves didn’t find him first? And if Trey was dead…

  Shit.

  If Trey was dead, the other wolves would probably kill him and Matthew both.

  A howl echoed off in the distance and a chill raced down his spine. Then something—or someone—answered with a different, more savage roar.

  That did it. “You know what? We should go back.”

  “Yeah,” Matthew said, voice tight. “I’m getting that feeling too.”

  Chapter 8

  They locked the cabin up tight, and didn’t bother with a lantern even though the light had started to fade—too risky, and Brendan took the opportunity to get some food into his stomach.

  The howls were far enough away that being inside the building shut out the sound.

  Matthew kept staring at him, and it was making him damned uncomfortable at times because he couldn’t help wondering if he was supposed to be in love with the guy or something—or if the guy was in love with him.

  Finally he couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. “We’ll wait for Jay and if he doesn’t show tonight, we’ll head out in the morning. If he does—”

  Brendan shrugged and tossed the empty packet up on the folding table set up beside them. He was sitting in the only chair, while Matthew was sitting on the edge of the cot Brendan had woke up on earlier. “We’ll deal with him when he gets here,” Brendan finished.

  Matthew nodded. “Just be careful. I don’t like him. I wish you’d listened to me when he first contacted you.”

  Brendan looked toward one of the two small windows in the cabin. Night was falling fast now and although the sky was clear, there was very little moon.

  “I told you he was just trying to use us,” Matthew continued, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees. “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the time?”

  “Am I?”

  Matthew blew out his breath harshly. “You wouldn’t believe how stubborn, sometimes.”

  “Then why were we together?”

  A pained flash raced across Matthew’s expression. “Are,” he said, emphasizing the word. “We are together.”

  Brendan wished he could say he felt anything for Matthew, even attraction, but he didn’t. He kept comparing him to Trey and Matthew kept coming up short, even though he seemed like a pretty good, loyal, guy. “I don’t even remember you.”

  He knew it was harsh to remind Matthew of that, but he didn’t want Matthew getting the wrong idea.

  “You will when we find that goddamned wolf and make him fix you.”

  Brendan let his gaze wander over Matthew again and Matthew reached out and put his hand on Brendan’s knee. Brendan stared at that hand and then raised his gaze to meet Matthew’s bright eyes. He took Matthew’s hand and moved it off him.

  “I’m not restarting something I don’t even remember,” Brendan said. He couldn’t imagine what this must be like for Matthew, but things were already out of control enough without adding in another complication.

  When Matthew just sat there, fist clenching in front of him, Brendan said, “Were you in love with me?”

  Matthew sucked in his breath and sat back quick enough to jar the cot against the floor. After a moment, Matthew said, “I don’t know. Maybe. I thought you were feeling the same way. Could be I was wrong. Fletcher seems to think—”

  Matthew stopped without finishing the thought and ran his hands through his hair. He wouldn’t meet Brendan’s gaze, instead staring toward the door.

  “Fletcher thinks what?” Brendan finally asked.

  Matthew sighed and his gaze flickered toward Brendan again. “Fletcher laughed at me that night we made that bet—fuck, you don’t know what I’m talking about, but that’s not the point anyway. I told him we were getting closer and he fucking laughed at me and said you had only one love and that it wasn’t ever going to be me. The fucker.”

  Matthew scowled and Brendan wondered who this Fletcher was again, that Matthew would believe him—because Matthew definitely had the look of someone who had been forced to face an unpleasant truth.

  “You said Fletcher used to be more than a friend.”

  “Yeah. Him and Ian don’t come around much anymore but you’ve been trying to fix that, get Ian into the group. Something about the guns he has and the ammunition. You thought it would be a good idea.”

  Ian. A bubbling sense of recognition seemed right under the surface of his thoughts but he couldn’t grasp the memories. The strength of the feeling unnerved him.

  Brendan frowned.

  “You and Ian go way back. Grew up together from the way you tell it.”

  Matthew had more to say, Brendan could see it in the way he held himself. “What?” he demanded.

  “It’s just—I know Fletcher was talking about Ian. And I know you had a good reason for letting Ian go chasing after Fletcher later but it seems kind of—” Matthew sighed and looked down at his hands. “If you do have a thing for him, that was one hell of a way to show it.”

  Brendan’s stomach clenched tight at that notion.

  The rhythmic tones of insects had started up as night descended and the piercing buzz began to ring in his ears.

  “Dammit,” he muttered.

  “You okay?” Matthew asked.

  “I should know this shit and I don’t. It’s making me crazy. I should know who Ian is. I can feel it, but I don’t.” He raked his hand over his face, the stubble at his jaw rough against his palm. “I hate this.”

  “The wolves have Ian. Fletcher too. And Mason and Marcus. Duffy’s dead, and Brittany too—she took a bullet from Denton when he lost it on the last missi
on. Rock’s still missing. Sebastian and Lamar are following Jay’s lead without a second thought. The whole thing seems wrong without you there.”

  Most of those names meant nothing to Brendan. Only Ian brought up that sense of unease, like he should know Ian even if he knew no one else.

  Matthew acted like he was about to reach for Brendan’s knee again, but he caught himself and dropped his hands between his own knees. “We thought you were probably gone for good until Jay started talking about the ship and the chance we’d have to get you back. He seems to like being in charge though, so I get a bad feeling every time I think of what he might be planning.”

  Brendan asked the only question he could think to ask. “How’d Duffy die?”

  Matthew’s eyes flickered away and then back. “Wolves.”

  But there was something to the way Matthew said it that made Brendan narrow his eyes. “What happened?”

  Matthew shifted on the cot and the frame creaked. “One of them that you made that deal with got him. Tore out his throat.”

  Brendan tried to swallow but his throat had closed up tight and it took a moment to relax enough to manage a deep breath. He rubbed his hand along his thigh. He could already feel the weight of what was coming. “Why?”

  “I wasn’t there,” Matthew said, raising his gaze from the floor just long enough to give Brendan a look from under his lashes. “I don’t know. Jay said—he said Duffy should’ve kept his mouth shut and done what the wolf said, that the drugs were only so good right then and Duffy’d been willing to give up a little ass under your orders so he should be willing to give it up under his.”

  “God,” Brendan said. He wasn’t just a criminal, a murderer, a thief. He was a monster.

  “But goddammit Brendan, isn’t that what we’re fighting against? You told me when you recruited me that we didn’t have to do what they said, that they didn’t have the right to just order us to—to submit like we’re some kind of sexual prey.”

  Brendan thought of Trey and his demands. A creeping disquiet worked its way through him. He’d submitted to Trey and he’d been willing to keep submitting; he swallowed thickly and rubbed harder at his thigh. “I don’t understand any of what’s going on. I can’t make sense of it.”

  Matthew grabbed his hand and Brendan jerked his arm back, but Matthew held tight.

  “No, no,” Matthew said clasping Brendan’s hand between both of his. “Listen, I know it’s confusing. I know it is. We’ll figure it out. You’ll get your memory back.”

  “I know I will,” Brendan said. “I told you that already. Trey said I would.”

  The problem was that Brendan wasn’t so sure he wanted it back. A part of him was terrified of what he was, who he’d been, of who Trey was.

  “Trey? That wolf that had you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Matthew’s fingers clenched around Brendan’s. “Fucking wolves.”

  A howl filtered through the walls from outside, the closest Brendan had heard since they’d shut themselves up in the darkening cabin, and Matthew’s grip loosened.

  Brendan pulled his hand free and stood, the move scraping his chair back across the floor.

  Matthew scrambled to his feet at the same time. Brendan reached for the cool metal of his gun and slid it out of the holster and moved into the darkest corner of the cabin away from the window to the side of the door. He leaned his shoulder against the shelf and stared past the door to where Matthew stood on the other side.

  “Head shot,” Matthew said, low-voiced. “That gun you have won’t do more than make them mad. You have to get them right in this area.” Matthew pointed at a spot behind his temple. “It’s a weak spot. If you want to kill one of them, that’s where you’ve got to hit.”

  “Okay,” Brendan said. “Don’t shoot unless I tell you to.”

  “Of course. I follow you. Nobody else.”

  Brendan didn’t mention that following him when he couldn’t remember his own name probably wasn’t Matthew’s smartest move.

  It was like he’d done something to Matthew—or Matthew was just one of those people who had too much faith in those he gave his loyalty to.

  Brendan wondered if he’d used sex to lure Matthew into the group, to recruit him, as Matthew had said. Had he preyed on Matthew’s feelings for him? Brendan had no real evidence that was what he’d done, but he couldn’t shake the thought loose once it took hold.

  Another howl, this time closer. His blood rushed with adrenaline and he worked to steady his hands on the gun, forcing himself to take a slow, quiet breath.

  Something slammed into the door from the outside and the supplies on the shelf beside Brendan rattled and clinked. His fingers clenched and he was surprised when he didn’t shoot the gun off unintentionally, but he realized he’d been holding the gun with his finger away from the trigger, and that probably said a lot about how comfortable he was holding a gun.

  “Brendan?” someone called out harshly from outside. “You in there, goddammit? Open the door!”

  Something pounded on the wood. A fist, or—no, the butt of a gun. Vibrating, staccato raps that echoed through the wood. “There’s some motherfucking mean wolves out here on our tail!”

  “What the hell?” Matthew said. He waved his hand at Brendan.

  “What?” Brendan demanded. He lowered his gun a few inches and pushed away from the wall with his shoulder. “Who is it?”

  “Fletcher,” Matthew said.

  “Fletcher? One of us?” Brendan lowered the gun the rest of the way and then shoved it into the holster at his thigh.

  Fletcher pounded on the door again. “Goddammit, Brendan, you don’t get this door open I’ll have to go get Kem to break it down and we don’t have time for that shit. There’s a goddamned wolf fight going on less than a mile from here and we have to get you out of here now.” Fletcher was no longer yelling, as if he knew Brendan was standing on the other side of the door, but he still sounded fierce.

  “Who’s Kim?” Brendan demanded of Matthew. He reached for the bar across the door, but paused, waiting for Matthew’s answer.

  Matthew shook his head but moved to stand behind Brendan. “I don’t know any Kims.”

  “Fuck it,” Brendan muttered. Not like there were a lot of other choices.

  He shoved the bar upward and out of the way and then yanked the door back.

  The low light meant all he really saw was the washed out shadow of a man about his height, with Matthew’s build, and a scowl on his face, wearing a t-shirt and jeans and boots that matched Brendan’s own.

  The guy grabbed Brendan’s arm and pulled him onto the porch with a grip that didn’t let up even after Brendan stumbled forward across the threshold and onto the narrow porch. “Let’s go. Kem’s got transport waiting for—Ah, shit. Matthew. You goddamn idiot. I should’ve known you’d be involved in this somehow.”

  “Fletcher.”

  “You staying or going?”

  “I’m staying with Brendan.”

  “Suit yourself, but it means wolves and a damn lot of them. You try anything and I’ll personally kick your fucking ass. And by the way, you owe me fifty gold ten-dollars. That’s your half of the bet and I earned that goddamn money. I still plan to collect.”

  “Fuck you, Fletcher.”

  “Not a chance, Matty-boy.”

  “Asshole.”

  “That’s enough,” Brendan said, his own cold, hard tone surprising him again. He adjusted his vest. “Sounds like they’re getting closer. If we’re getting out of here, we have to go.”

  “Stay with us, Matt, or you’ll get left behind.” With those words, Fletcher clenched his fingers around Brendan’s arm and hustled him down the short run of steps leading off the porch, Brendan’s braced foot clunking on every tread.

  Brendan didn’t recognize Fletcher any more than he’d recognized Matthew, but there was a distinct difference in how the two treated him. Matthew deferred; Fletcher demanded.

  Cloud cover hid most of the brigh
t sliver of moon and Brendan struggled to keep up with Fletcher’s fast pace, breathing heavy and fighting the burn in his thighs. He’d already done a hell of a lot of walking today. Each panting breath dragged in warm, damp smelling air that probably meant rain was on the way again.

  A roar sounded in the distance. Brendan stumbled.

  “They’re keeping them away,” Fletcher said. “We’re heading away from them. It isn’t far.”

  He was right. As they hit the edge of the woods, the roaring began to fade.

  Brendan clearly remembered Matthew saying the wolves had Fletcher, and after a few more minutes, he couldn’t stop himself from asking the one question that kept running through his mind. “Do you know Trey? Is he okay?”

  “Trey?” Fletcher said, not pausing to do more than slap a tree limb out of his way, plowing right through a thicket of brush that stood between them and wherever Fletcher was leading them.

  The limb hit Matthew in the neck with a vibrating thwap. “You asshole.”

  “Pay attention where you’re going,” Fletcher said, glancing over his shoulder. It was already too dark for Brendan to make out Fletcher’s expression. As they’d gone deeper into the woods, sight had became limited to the shadows of movement and the outline of solid bodies, washed out and gray under the near dark sky and the looming brush and towering oaks. Fletcher had sounded smug though, as if he enjoyed pissing off Matthew.

  “Trey,” Brendan said again, pushing his other thoughts aside for the moment to focus on what was important. “The wolf I was with. First Alpha, he said.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Matthew whispered harshly over the crackle and stomp of their boots hitting the ground. “The First Alpha?” He knocked his arm against a thin tree they passed and growled out a sound of anger and frustration that almost got lost in the cascading rustle of leaves. “That goddamn asshole. He had to know that’s who we were going after and he didn’t say a word. Catching the First Alpha would’ve been—”

  “Who’s ‘asshole’?” Fletcher demanded with a quick look over his shoulder again.

  “Jay,” Matthew said. “You probably don’t know—”