by J. L. Wilder
“I’m sure Hawk’s planning something,” Robbie said.
“You are?”
“Well, no,” Robbie admitted. “He’s not exactly a planner. But at some point, he’s going to want to start integrating her into the pack, right? If she’s going to be one of us again, she can’t just stay trapped in this little room.”
“Did he send her any breakfast?” Weston asked, already knowing the answer. Robbie’s hands were empty. And Robbie seemed to understand the point Weston was making because he looked at the floor and said nothing.
“If she’s a member of this pack,” Weston said, “she’s got to eat.”
“She didn’t eat her lasagna.” Robbie indicated the congealing brick of pasta and sauce on the floor.
“She’d just been kidnapped,” Weston pointed out. “She was upset. Understandably so. Just...never mind, I’ll grab her something.”
Robbie entered the room and took a seat on the floor. “Did you sleep all right, by the way?”
“I don’t know. The floor was a little hard—” he cut himself off, but it was too late. Robbie was staring at him.
“You did sleep,” he said.
“Okay, I did. So what?”
“Hawk ordered you not to, that’s what. How did you do it? I’ve been ordered not to sleep before, I know what that feels like. It’s like you’re getting nails down your spine every time you start to drift off. There’s no way a person could just accidentally fall asleep in contradiction to an order.”
“He must not have actually given the order,” Weston said. “It’s all I can figure.”
“But he did give it,” Robbie insisted. “I heard him. I was in the kitchen at the time and heard you two talking. Just don’t go to sleep, he said.”
Hearing the phrase jogged Weston’s memory. Robbie was right. That was what Hawk had said. And there was no mistaking that phrasing. Don’t go to sleep was about as clear an order as you could get.
And yet, Weston had slept.
What was going on?
Feeling distinctly wrong-footed, he shook his head and got to his feet. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go get some breakfast, and then I’ll bring Charity some leftovers. If she wakes up, tell her where I’ve gone.”
“Did you two...make up?” Robbie asked.
“Not exactly.” But more than Weston would have expected. He wasn’t sure exactly where the two of them had left things, but a lot of his fury with her seemed to have dissipated in the night. Some of it was just gone, but a significant portion had turned on him like a feral animal, biting into his heart. It had been his fault that she hadn’t told him where she was going.
He was oversimplifying things, he knew. They had both been young. They had both been afraid. But if I had told her I’d go anywhere with her, do anything for her, he couldn’t help but think, if I’d only said it, then she would have opened up to me when the time came. We could have left together. And right now, we’d be far from here, with nothing to worry about.
It wasn’t making up, exactly. And Weston knew that he and Charity could never be as they had been now that Hawk was about to claim her as his own. But maybe they would be able to help each other through the days to come. Maybe they would be able to build some sort of mutual trust and become friends.
He hoped so. Because he still cared for her, he realized. Very deeply. Deeply enough that it was starting to scare him.
He made his way to the kitchen. The table was covered with waffles, bowls of fruit, and plates of bacon and sausage. Weston took a seat and piled a bit of everything on his plate.
“Morning, sunshine,” Hawk said.
“Morning.”
“Sleep well?”
He very nearly slipped and responded affirmatively. Only the mocking expression on Hawk’s face saved him. It hadn’t been a sincere question. Hawk was making sport of him.
“I got through it,” Weston said, tightening his voice a little and blinking several times, hoping he looked more tired than he was.
Norma, at least, was convinced. “You eat a big breakfast and then go straight to bed,” she said. “I don’t want to see you again until this afternoon. Hawk, tell him to go to sleep.”
“Yeah, go to sleep after breakfast,” Hawk said agreeably. Weston was surprised. Hawk usually put up a show of resistance when someone tried to tell him what to do, even if it was something he’d been planning on doing all along. He must be in a good mood today.
Weston could guess why that was. It made his skin crawl. He’s got Charity now. Suddenly he didn’t feel like going to sleep very much at all.
So, he dragged his feet as much as possible, eating his breakfast in tiny bites, helping himself to second portions of bacon, piling up more fruit than was strictly his share on top of his waffle. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything. No one was paying much attention to Weston at all. A conversation had started about the possibility of going out on a ride that day, and it had given rise to an argument.
“Just out of town and around the countryside for a few hours,” Lita was wheedling.
“Absolutely not,” Hawk said. “There’s too much to do around here today. And who would watch Charity if we all went out?”
“We don’t all have to go. Someone could stay back. Robbie has her now, doesn’t he? He wouldn’t mind. Robbie never minds anything.”
“Besides,” Hawk said, “we all just rode into the city yesterday. We don’t need to be going out two days in a row. We can go next week.”
“I didn’t get to ride yesterday, though,” Lita protested. “You made me sit in the back of the van with Charity.”
“Yeah, well, someone had to babysit her,” Hawk said.
“She wasn’t going to get out of the back of a moving van!”
“We’re not going, Lita.”
Lita got up from the table, grabbed a cup from the cupboard, and began pulling out ingredients for a bloody mary.
“Hey, Lita,” Weston called. “Will you make me one of those?”
“You two don’t need to be drinking this early in the morning,” Norma said disapprovingly.
Hawk ignored that. “Make all of us one of those,” he ordered.
Lita visibly tried to resist. Weston could understand. She was angry with Hawk for leaving her out of the ride yesterday, for thwarting her desire to go for a ride today, and now for forcing her to wait on him. Weston felt bad about his own part in the whole situation—he should have gotten up and made his own drink instead of asking Lita to do it for him. But he had been asking for a favor. She could have told him no. She couldn’t say no to Hawk.
And that became clear as, after only a few moments of standing there clenching her jaw, she turned back to the cabinet and pulled down four more glasses. She did not work quietly—she banged the glasses hard against the counter and slammed the refrigerator door when she removed the tomato juice. But she made the drinks.
Weston got up and helped her transfer them to the table. “Sorry,” he said quietly.
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”
He understood what she meant. This was part of life. Hawk gave orders, and no matter how shitty those orders were, the rest of the pack had no choice but to follow them. That wasn’t Weston’s fault, and Lita knew it.
But why had Weston been able to sleep last night?
The question niggled at him, refusing to leave him alone. And as he drank his bloody mary, something else occurred to him. If he’d been able to ignore the order to stay awake last night, was it possible he would be able to ignore the order to sleep now?
He decided to find out.
He loaded up a plate with a waffle and a few of the different fruits. Then he stopped by the cupboard, grabbed a fresh cup, and filled it with water from the tap. “Taking food to bed?” Hawk smirked as he headed out of the kitchen, but Weston didn’t answer. He didn’t want to give his alpha a chance to tell him not to bring the food to Charity.
Hands full, he had to kick the door gently to let
Robbie know he was there. A moment later, the door opened and Robbie let him in. Charity was awake now and sitting up on her mattress, her hair tangled and matted from sleep, her eyes red from crying.
His heart twisted. “Here,” he said, giving her the breakfast he’d prepared. “You need to try to eat something. You’re going to want to keep your strength up.”
She set the plate down beside her on the mattress and looked at the food as if she didn’t quite recognize it, but a moment later she picked up a strawberry and put it in her mouth. She chewed deliberately, as if she were following instructions or copying something she’d read about in a book. But she ate it.
Weston retreated from the room, needing to be alone with his thoughts, and went upstairs to his attic bedroom. Once there, he lay down on his bed and waited for the need to sleep to come over him.
It didn’t come.
He had been ordered. He knew he’d been ordered this time. Hawk had told him to go to sleep after he’d finished with breakfast, and he was inarguably done with breakfast. He should have felt a pressure on his mind, sending him into blackness. He should have been unable to keep his eyes open.
But there was nothing.
Weston didn’t know what to think. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Was something wrong with Hawk, perhaps? Were his commands no longer working on the rest of the pack?
No, that couldn’t be it. Because he’d just seen Lita forced to obey an order she had tried with all her might to resist.
It wasn’t Hawk who had changed. It was him.
But that didn’t make sense either. What could have happened to Weston that would make him able to resist a command from his alpha? Surely, he would have noticed something of that magnitude. And whatever it was must have been very recent because he had been forced to follow orders just a few days ago, hadn’t he? He hadn’t wanted to go through with that burglary of Hal’s Liquor, but the command Hawk had given had forced him to do it. He had definitely felt the compulsion of the order on that occasion.
What had happened between then and now to change things?
Of course, there was one thing of significance that had happened. But could Charity’s return have had that kind of effect? He didn’t see how. All right, yes, he was completely in pieces about it. Seeing her again was simultaneously wonderful and heartbreaking, and he was having to rewrite the narrative of his own life that he’d clung to all these years. It was a tremendous upheaval, and he was completely overwhelmed.
But what did any of that have to do with Hawk?
He couldn’t make sense of it. All he knew was that there was nothing weighing on him and nothing compelling him to obey, for the first time in his life.
He stared up at the ceiling, thinking. Would his newfound freedom only apply to orders about sleeping? That really didn’t seem likely. But was it possible that he was exempt from all orders now, that Hawk wouldn’t be able to compel him to do anything against his will? That would mean he wouldn’t have to take part in any more illegal activities. He would be free of that. Maybe he could get a job and start contributing a regular salary to the pack, replacing the funds that Hawk withdrew without care. Or maybe—
He sat bolt upright.
How had it taken him so long to realize what was truly possible?
Hawk had Charity as his prisoner. He was planning to do terrible, unthinkable things to her. And the rest of the pack had been ordered to help keep her captive and not to allow her to escape.
But Weston was no longer subject to orders.
He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Was it really possible? Would he be able to get Charity out of here? If Hawk’s authority over him was truly broken, then there would be nothing to stop him.
She wouldn’t be able to go back to her apartment and her job, he knew. That life was over for her. But anything would be better than what awaited her here. He could help her sneak out under cover of darkness. And this time, they would go together.
All the mistakes they’d made as children could be set right.
He couldn’t believe it. How often did a person actually get a second chance?
They would go on the run. They would leave the state and go as far away as they could, where Hawk would never find them. And together, they would start a pack of their own. They would have no one to tell them what to do. It wouldn’t matter who was an alpha and who was an omega and who wasn’t anything at all because it would just be the two of them.
At the realization that this was actually a possibility, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years began to well up inside him.
It was hope.
Or maybe it was love.
Or maybe it was both.
He rolled out of bed slowly, stood up, and walked to the door, feeling as if he was moving through a dream. This couldn’t possibly be real. It was too good to be real.
But he was pretty sure that it was real, nonetheless.
He made his way down to the spare room, hoping that Robbie was still on duty, and opened the door. Sure enough, there was Robbie, chatting with Charity as if there was nothing imbalanced or strange about their current situation at all.
“Pretty much everybody left,” he said. “It’s just Hawk, me, Rick, Weston, Gino, Lita, and Norma now.”
Charity shook her head. “Damn. Where did they all go?”
“We have no idea,” Robbie said. “I guess you never saw any of them around town?”
She shook her head. “Never. But I wasn’t exactly looking.”
“Well, that makes sense.” Robbie looked up at Weston. “What’s up? Didn’t Hawk send you to sleep?”
“Yeah, he did,” Weston said. “I only took a short nap. Let me do this for a bit.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Robbie nodded. “I’ll just sit outside, yeah? I’m still supposed to be on duty, so I don’t think I can leave.”
“That’s fine,” Weston said.
Robbie gave him a searching look and then disappeared, shutting the door behind him.
“You’re back,” Charity said.
“I am.”
“What brings you?”
He took a breath. He had to admit that he wasn’t at all sure what to say, or how it would be received. “Charity,” he began, speaking very quietly in case Robbie could hear them. “You don’t...you don’t want to live here, do you? You don’t want to be one of us.”
“You know it’s not that simple,” she said. “I can’t be one of you, can I? I’m not like you and Robbie and Lita. I don’t have choices or freedom. If I did, I’d love to be part of this family. But as it is...”
“As it is, you’d rather leave.”
“But it doesn’t make any difference.”
“What if it did?”
She looked up at him. “What are you talking about?”
“What if you didn’t have to stay here? What if there was a way for you to get out again?”
“I don’t understand.”
He leaned in. Her face was mere inches from his. “I think I can help you.”
Chapter Ten
CHARITY
Weston hadn’t outlined many of the details of his plan—if he even had a plan—and as the sun went down, Charity felt increasingly nervous and jumpy.
It didn’t help that Rick had been assigned to guard duty all afternoon. Unlike Robbie, who was friendly, or Gino, who passed his duty hours sitting outside the room and leaving her alone, Rick seemed to enjoy harassing Charity. He paced the room making snide comments about her body and what Hawk would be doing to her as soon as he got the chance until she felt like snakes were crawling over her skin. Hurry, Weston.
He came back the moment the sun had vanished below the horizon. “I’m on the night shift,” he told Rick.
“Good luck with her,” Rick said. “She’s a minx.”
Charity felt sick. She’d done nothing but sit there and ignore him all afternoon. How could he suggest that she’d been flirting with h
im?
Weston stood in the corner and crossed his arms. “I can handle it,” he said, and Rick smirked and left.
As soon as the door was closed, he hurried to her side. “Are you okay? He didn’t try anything, did he?”
“No.” Her eyes widened. “You said no one would be able to. You said Hawk had given orders against it.”
“Yeah, well, something’s up with Hawk’s orders,” he said. “How do you think I’m managing to get you out? I don’t know how widespread the problem is. I was climbing the walls knowing you were in here with him. But if I’d come in before now, I would have given the game away, and we wouldn’t have been able to escape.”
“I’m fine.” She was rattled, though. How much danger had she been in with Rick?
Weston seemed to read the fear on her face. “It was probably fine,” he said. “Whatever the problem is with Hawk, it doesn’t seem to be affecting anyone but me. I was just anxious about it.”
“But what’s going on?” she asked. “You’re not subject to orders anymore?”
“I don’t think I am. We’re about to find out.” He crossed to the window and pushed it up, slowly and quietly, careful not to allow it to squeak. “I’m going out,” he said. “I’ll whistle when I’m ready, and you follow behind me.”
He hoisted himself up out of the window and dropped out of sight. A moment later, she heard a low, chirping sort of whistle.
It cut her to the core.
She knew that whistle.
It had been the signal they’d used to call to each other as children, when they’d snuck away from the house and into the woods to spend time together. For a moment, she felt such a longing for him, and for those times, that she almost couldn’t move.
The whistle sounded again.
Right. She had to go. She hurried to the window and carefully slithered out headfirst. Weston was waiting below, and he caught her in his arms.
“We’re out,” she whispered.
“It’s not over yet.” He set her on her feet, took her by the hand, and ducked low. “Come on.”
She allowed herself to be pulled along. Were they going into the woods? Would he want to shift and run away? The idea made Charity a little nervous. It had been so long since she’d assumed her wolf form. Would she even be able to do it on command, or would it be the way it had been when she was little, fumbling through the transition, still learning the mental and physical cues that would eventually be second nature?
