by Liza Street
They reached the dump just as a large white van parked in the dirt lot on the other side of the gravel boundary. Two men got out of the front and immediately walked around to the rear door. They paid no attention to the few people gathering inside the boundary. Lena saw Mathers leaning against the old bus, and Markowicz and Jase at the other side of the dump. They appeared bored, but she could sense everyone’s interest. This must have been what it was like when she, Marcus, Kyle, Barnum, and Mollin had arrived.
Rubbing the goosebumps from her arms, she looked around for Barnum and Mollin. There they were, leaning over the top of a rusty old VW Bug.
The guys at the van opened the rear door. One took a paper from his pocket and read, “Konrad Vezirov, you have been sent here by your alpha for theft, violence, and kidnapping. Come forward.”
Wind caused a piece of sheet metal to fall from a stack, and it clanged loudly.
A black-haired man with hazel eyes hopped out of the back of the van, his wrists bound behind him with zip ties. He looked one way and the other, as if trying to decide whether to make a run for it, but the two men grabbed him by the upper arms and pulled him toward the gravel boundary. Accepting his fate, he didn’t struggle and allowed himself to be shoved over the line. Then he immediately turned around and tried to walk out, but his face smacked into the invisible wall.
The guy with the paper started to read, but another gust of wind tore more sheet metal from the pile. It clattered into more metal, drowning out the guy’s words. Lena felt like that was hardly fair—she should get to hear what this other new guy was in for. After all, anyone who’d cared to listen had been able to hear her own bullshit charges read against her.
But then the other shifter leaped lightly from the van. He wore hiking boots, dark-wash jeans, and a flannel button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hands were tied behind his back, too, making his shoulders look broader, his neck thicker. His black beard hid half of his face, but Lena would recognize that narrow nose and dark eyebrows anywhere.
Lena reached out for something, anything, to hold her up, and she came up with Kyle’s shoulder. She squeezed it, trying to ground herself to the moment.
Because as the man stepped over the gravel boundary line, she knew her life was over.
The newest shifter in the Junkyard was none other than Shaw.
16
Carter fucking hated the wind; it always made him grouchy. Beneath the noise of the gusts moving through trees, he heard the approach of a vehicle. New deliveries to the Junkyard, no doubt. He knew he should go check them out, size them up, make sure they wouldn’t pose a threat to Lena.
Then again, she was pretty damn good at taking care of herself. With some training, she’d be able to protect herself without any help.
He’d help train her, if that’s what she wanted.
But even smarter would be getting her the hell out of this place. Only two people had ever succeeded in escaping, and now, while everyone was distracted by the new arrivals, would be the best time to talk to them.
He knocked on the door of the painted camp trailer. The wind had torn away most of Lena’s scent, but he could still pick up faint notes of mint and steel.
Nobody answered. “Anyone around?” he called.
Nothing. Perfect.
He walked to the edge of the boundary and shouted for Grant. No answer. Beneath the wind, he could hear the sounds of country western playing on a radio. Grant was probably painting in the garage, then. Picking up a pebble, Carter hurled it at the garage’s outer wall, careful to avoid the window. Grant would be pissed if Carter broke something.
A moment later, Grant stepped out. His light brown hair was sticking up in places, and his white t-shirt and jeans were streaked with paint. He jogged over to the gravel line.
“This better be important. I’ve got nearly the right shade of indigo for the mountains.” He pointed at the peaks in the distance.
“I need your witch,” Carter said.
Grant leaned back slightly. “I don’t have a witch. I have a nurse.”
“Don’t be a dick, you know what I mean. You found a witch to get you and Caitlyn out. I need one for Lena.”
“Just Lena?”
“Yeah, who else?”
Grant’s green eyes were thoughtful and he scrubbed the faint scruff on his jaw. “Don’t you want out?”
“Fuck no. I belong here. My bear belongs here.”
“Pretty sure the witch can’t help you, then. Sorry.” Grant turned to go.
“Hang on a minute,” Carter said. “You asked about me wanting out, and then you said the witch can’t help me. Would the answer be different if I wanted out?”
Grant rubbed at a streak of blue paint on his thumb. “I got a secret.”
Carter raised his eyebrows, waiting.
“You don’t need the witch to get out.”
“What the fuck do you mean?” Carter smacked a hand against the invisible wall for emphasis.
“I mean, if you have a mate, you can get out together.”
Carter laughed. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.” Grant shook his head. “I can’t remember the witch’s exact words, but basically, the barrier will recognize the pure love of the mate bond, or something like that.”
There was no dishonesty in Grant’s words. He was telling Carter the truth, but it sounded so fantastical, so improbable, it was hard for Carter to swallow.
Grant held up his hands. “I’m telling you the truth, man, but I can see you don’t believe me. At any rate, Maddie, the witch, isn’t going to help you. She told me I could tell one person about the mate thing, and now I have, so…do with it what you will. I gotta run.”
“Yes,” Carter said in a dry voice, “I’m sure that indigo shading is eager for your attention.”
“It is,” Grant said, flipping him the bird and turning to go.
As soon as Grant was back in his garage, Carter looked at the boundary. He was pretty sure, as far as he was concerned, that Lena was his mate. Maybe it meant he could breach the invisible wall. Despite having just smacked it to prove a point to Grant, he had to try it.
Casually, he held a hand in front of him and pressed outward. At first he didn’t meet with any resistance. Shit, this was real? It was already working. He wouldn’t even need Lena here to get out. Not that he wanted to leave, because he didn’t. Except maybe to grab a pint. A cold beer, fresh from the tap, sounded like heaven.
He leaned forward a little more, and there it was, the invisible wall, solid against his fingers. Fuck.
Curious about the new shifters, Carter made his way toward the dump. He had to pass his cabin to get there, though, and he was surprised to see Lena sitting on the ground outside of his door, knees pulled up to her chest. The wind whipped her hair around, but she ignored it. Worse, she looked pale. Carter would’ve guessed she was sick if it were possible for shifters to get sick.
Marcus stood next to her, looking grim. Carter hurried forward.
As soon as Carter got close, Marcus gave Lena’s shoulder a squeeze and approached Carter.
“What’s wrong?” Carter asked.
“She’s been like this ever since the new guys showed up.” Marcus shrugged. “I haven’t been able to get her to talk. She walked here and sat down, so I’ve been waiting with her.”
“Thanks, man,” Carter said.
Marcus gave him another one of those evaluating looks. “You really care, right?”
Carter’s initial impulse was to punch the guy in the nose, but he could see Marcus’s question came from concern, not a dickish need to piss Carter off. So Carter said, “Yeah. I do.”
“That’s all I need to know,” Marcus said before jogging away.
Carter immediately went to Lena’s side and knelt down next to her. “Hey, Lena. Kitty cat, tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head and she squeezed her knees closer to her chest, as if trying to make herself as small as possible.
&nbs
p; “Did someone hurt you?” he asked.
She shook her head again.
“Okay, I’m going to pick you up and bring you inside, all right?”
She didn’t speak, but she didn’t shake her head, either. Carefully, he lifted her up and cradled her to his chest. Then he opened his cabin door and walked them indoors.
Just last night, they’d been fucking each other’s brains out on this very quilt. The cabin still smelled like sex. Carter kept her in his arms and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Someone came in the shipment today, huh?” he asked. “Someone you know.”
She nodded, and a tear leaked from one of her eyes. He brushed it away from her cheek with his thumb.
“You don’t have to talk about it right now, but it might be good for you to tell me.” And then Carter would kick the guy’s ass from here into eternity.
He squeezed her to him and she took a deep, shuddering breath, pressing her face against his neck. She straightened her body until he had to let her off of his lap, but she sat right next to him, their thighs touching.
“It’s Shaw,” she said in a hoarse voice.
“Shaw? He sent someone in?”
“He’s here. In the Junkyard.”
“Did you see—”
“I saw him, yeah,” she said.
Carter was quiet. The idea of Shaw, a powerful alpha, getting thrown into the Junkyard sounded so impossible, he wanted to doubt Lena. But he could never doubt her.
“Do you know why?” he asked. “What crimes was he brought in for?”
“No, I couldn’t hear. But Carter, the Arrow Valley Pride loves him. He has the support of every single one of those lions. I didn’t like him even as a girl, but I still had that blind devotion everyone else has. It wasn’t until Sarah became his mate that my support of him began to waver. And it wasn’t until her death that I lost all respect for him. The pride would never have sent him here.”
Carter stood up so he could pace—he thought better when he was moving. He said, “You’re telling me that he’s here voluntarily?”
Lena nodded.
“And the only reason he could be doing this,” Carter said, “is because of you. What does he want with you?”
“He wants to kill me, I think. Like he did to my sister.”
It seemed like a poorly thought-out plan to Carter. If Shaw were to succeed—which he wouldn’t, not ever, not if Carter was still breathing—then Shaw would be left in the Junkyard without a goal. Trapped, just like the rest of the Junkyard shifters.
But whatever Shaw’s endgame, Carter believed Lena. Shaw was here, and he posed a threat.
And that meant Carter would have to do what Carter felt like he’d been born to do: fight.
Lena stared blankly at the floor.
“Hey,” Carter said, kneeling in front of her. He took her hands in his. Shifters usually ran hot, but her fingers were freezing. He lifted them to his lips and kissed them. “Hey. This is going to be all right. I’ll help you figure it out, okay? There’ll be a dominance battle tonight.”
“Isn’t there always?” Lena asked, sounding bitter.
“Yeah, but when there are new arrivals, it’s a bigger deal.”
“Not for everyone,” Lena said.
“Well, you were a unique case.” Carter frowned. “Barnum and Mollin fought during their first night, at least.”
Lena was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I can fight Shaw in the ring.”
“No.” Carter’s response was swift and certain.
Her blue eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”
“I’d love nothing more than to watch you kick the ass of someone who hurt you, who hurt your sister,” Carter said quickly. “But before you jump into the ring with him, I hope you’d think logically about your chances of beating him.”
Lena sagged forward, into Carter’s arms. “You’re right. I just…I’ve never been so scared.”
He listened to her heart beating against his chest and inhaled her scent. This was new for him, holding someone like this with only the need to comfort her, to help her feel better. He ran his hands up and down her back, trying to soothe her panic, take away her despair.
He knew the exact moment that her fear evaporated. She put her hands on his shoulders and pressed her lips against his neck. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” It was no hardship holding this strong, beautiful woman in his arms.
The wind howled outside, an invisible show of strength and fury.
She pulled back slightly and gazed at him. He stared back, his focus going to her mouth before returning to her eyes.
She nodded. “Yes.”
With a growl, he kissed her until they were breathless, and then he removed their clothes and showed her, with the rest of his body, just how much he cared for her, just how much he wanted her, just how much she was his.
17
Lena woke hours later in the darkness, alone. She was warm and surrounded in the scents of rosewood and bear, but Carter wasn’t in the cabin. She didn’t need to look for him to know this; she felt his absence. It sounded crazy when she thought of it like that, but it was the truth. He wasn’t around, and her body, or her heart, maybe both, were aware of his absence on a subconscious level.
A loud roar echoed in the dark, followed by rough cheers and boos.
The battles for dominance were already taking place.
She stood up in a hurry and dressed. Her muscles were pleasantly sore, the delicious ache a reminder of Carter’s attention a few hours prior. He’d used her well, and she’d loved every decadent minute of it. Absently, she rubbed the stinging spot on her shoulder where he’d bit down so hard he nearly gave her a mark. They weren’t mates, though, and he’d refrained.
She wondered what he would be like if he truly lost control.
Someday, maybe she’d see that from him.
After yanking on her shoes, she opened the cabin door and stepped outside. The wind had died down, leaving the air dry and cool. She lifted her head and inhaled, filtering the different scents. Carter’s masculine rosewood. Faintly, Marcus’s mossy scent, from when he’d brought Lena here earlier. Trees—pine, fir, aspen. Small mammals—mice, rabbits. Various birds. And coming from the direction of the dump—metal, sweat, blood. She moved in that direction, senses alert. Carter wouldn’t have left her alone if he thought she’d be in any danger, but it would be stupid of her to wander blindly into the woods alone.
“Lena.” A form dropped from the branches ahead of her, and she recognized Kyle’s head of blond hair. “Are you okay?”
“I am now,” she said. “Thanks. What’s happening?”
“Same shit as every night,” Kyle said. “Fighting. They’re always fighting.”
He looked regretful.
“Do you wish you were with them in the ring?” she asked.
“No. Not anymore. A long time ago, yeah, I’d have been just like Carter. But that’s in the past.”
She could guess there was more to the story, but the finality in his tone kept her from asking about it.
They walked together in the direction of the dump.
“Why are you out here, anyway?” she asked.
“Waiting for you,” he said simply. “You seemed scared. Marcus and I were thinking you shouldn’t be alone. Carter agreed.”
She didn’t know whether to be touched or frustrated that they were all taking care of her like this, but she decided to appreciate it because their concern just might save her life.
The trees thinned, and the sounds of fighting grew louder. Faint lamplight created a glow against scrap heaps, old cars, and other junk.
“The two new guys are in there,” Kyle said. “Vezirov and Shaw. I’m guessing you know one or both of them?”
Her breath caught. “Yeah. Shaw. My old alpha. He’s—he’s not a good guy, Kyle.”
“I’m not leaving your side,” Kyle promised. “And if I have to, Marcus will be here. Or Carter. There are other good
guys in this Junkyard, too, and any one of us would stand by your side, okay?”
She stopped walking, so he stopped, too. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, Kyle Rusch, and I’m proud to be your friend.”
“Then I am honored beyond words,” he said, giving her a gallant bow.
He was like a knight from the old times. A knight with a troubled past, sure, but a knight nonetheless, and she knew his honor was true and real and not something to take for granted.
When he held out his arm, she linked hers with it, and they approached the ring.
The lamps cast strange lights and shadows on the faces of everyone around the ring. Lena recognized several shifters, but a few were unfamiliar to her. She wondered how many guys lived in the Junkyard, total. Well, she supposed she had a lifetime to figure that out.
That thought didn’t give her the kind of comfort it would have before Shaw had arrived.
Shaw was in the ring, facing off against Vezirov, the other new arrival. Blood trickled from Vezirov’s lip, and a bruise was rapidly darkening over his eye. Vezirov was younger than Shaw and looked stronger, but Shaw held an alpha’s power.
While Lena and everyone else watched, Shaw proceeded to throw punches and kicks until Vezirov fell to the ground. He was still conscious, but he raised his hand and then slapped it against the dirt. He was done.
“Who’s next?” Shaw demanded, his golden eyes glaring around the ring. His gaze landed on Lena and he sneered. “Maybe one of my own?”
“I’m not yours,” Lena said, starting forward.
A warm hand encircled her wrist, but it wasn’t Kyle’s. Surprised, she turned to the other side and saw Carter.
“I’m next,” he said, lifting his t-shirt over his head and standing bare-chested in front of Shaw. “Ready when you are.”
Not one to miss the smallest detail, Shaw raised his eyebrow at the place where Carter’s and Lena’s hands had been joined. “I see,” he said. “Then let’s do this.”
Lena couldn’t help but admire Carter’s grace in the ring. He was talented, strong. No denying it. Shaw, too, although her gaze didn’t want to linger on his form. There was a purity to Carter’s movements. He even looked good when he took a hit.
