“True. Only one way to find out.” I rev the engine again as the man I have tied to the bike sobs.
“I’m not lying,” he wails.
“Neither was I,” I reply as both Mickey and I start driving in opposite directions.
I watch the entire thing, the way his body stretches and contorts. It doesn’t rip him in half, but it does the job intended as I watch the life leave his eyes. I take comfort in knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he suffered.
The kill switch deep-rooted in me has been flipped, and I’ll destroy anyone who comes between me and my Omega.
The hood staysover my head as the van parks, and I’m dragged forcefully around by two Alphas on each side of me. I keep quiet; I even try to make my breathing more even, anything that won’t call attention to myself. I don’t hear Shelby, so I assume they are carrying her. I just hope they take us to the same place.
The idea of us being separated is crippling, and it makes my breathing pick up.
No. Stay calm. Don’t let them see you panic.
Their hands are like manacles around my upper arms, and I want to wince at the treatment. I’m not a completely fragile person, but it’s the malicious intent wafting off of them that makes the pain ten times worse.
It’s relatively silent as they march us through a series of doors and hallways. I couldn’t tell you where we are. We could have been in the van for a half hour or multiple hours. What I do note is that I don’t think we’re at a clubhouse. My feet sink into carpeted floors as they walk me to wherever they’re taking me. Clubhouses would never have carpet. The knowledge makes my stomach drop.
They’re taking us somewhere that won’t be easy for the Dead Palms to find. Maybe that’s part of their plan. Keep me as far away from my saviors as possible. It’s what any villain would do, right?
But then the silence stops and what I hear only makes the situation more dire. There’s more than one person crying. One of them seems closer than the other, and my mind races with what they could be crying about.
Based on what the men in the van said about what they wanted to do to me, it doesn’t take long to imagine the horrors that happen in a place like this. I don’t even have to physically see anything to know that. This building oozes trepidation just from the sounds and smells alone.
The scents are overwhelming and putrid because they’re so mixed. It’s a barrage of different designations, and it’s sour. It’s not the scent of arousal, but dread.
A doorknob clicks, and my hood is removed from my head. My hair sticks to the material before falling flat against my face. The scent is ten times worse without the hood on, and I wrinkle my nose in distaste. It takes a few minutes for me to blink and get my bearings, and when I finally get a look at my two captors I see the scythe tattoos on their necks. It confirms what I already know: they’re Wraiths.
They shove me into the small room that’s probably ten feet by eight feet. The only things in the room are a bucket and a wornmattress on the floor with two blankets that look like they were dug out of the trash.
“Welcome home, princess,” the man with the deeper voice sneers:Reg.
There’s one card I have in my back pocket. One that might not even be valuable. I don’t know if the man is dead or alive, or if he even gives a single fuck about me. “My dad, Hammer, can I see him?”
Reg laughs so hard he has to clutch his stomach. “Hammer died a long time ago. Jesus.”
He and the other guy continue to laugh like what I said is the most hilarious thing in the world, and I just blink at them.How did I not know he was dead?
“What about Rex?” I ask, the one man in my mother’s pack who was kind to me, who actually loved my mother, at least it seemed that way.
“Damn, girl. You really don’t know any of your own history. Don’t worry. We’re here to teach you.”
Nothing about what he’s saying makes sense, my mom’s face is physical evidence of how the Wraiths treated her. Why wouldn’t she tell me my biological father and her pack were dead? Wouldn’t she be happy to tell me this? It would have put me at ease as a child knowing they were gone. As happy as I was to be a part of the Dead Palms, there was always this fear that the Wraiths would come back and demand that we go home. I guess they are now, just not in the way I thought.
I take a few steps back until my back hits the wall. The wall is sticky and smells like tobacco. Another man with a black eye comes in carrying a limp Shelby. The hood still covers her face as he drops her roughly onto the mattress.
Reg throws two bottles of water and a sleeve of crackers into the room. His hand is on the knob, looking like he’s going to leave, but he pauses. His gaze watches the men trail down thehallway before he looks back at me. I’m on my knees, removing Shelby’s hood and pushing back her hair.
“You’re Wraith’s property now. The sooner you get that through you and your little friend’s head the easier this will be on you.” He slams the door shut behind him, and I finally let myself really cry.
Tears rain down my face as I finally get a solid look at Shelby, which only makes me cry harder. She has a bruise forming on her jaw, a busted lip, and her eyebrow is split open.
“Fuck, Shelby. I’m so sorry,” I whisper as I pet her hair and cry.
There’s a muffling of someone else crying through the walls, and it breaks any spirit I might have still had buried deep inside me.
Shelby doesn’t wake up, and I finally note the small window behind me. I have to claw against the frame to lift myself up to get a good look. When I do… every single ounce of hope that I had dies.
