“Shut the fuck up,” I growled at them.
They kept going though, hurling insults in my direction, making sure I knew what a disappointment I was being.
I was supposed to help terrify Lucy. As a pack, we wanted her to leave.
Only… every time I got near the woman, the last thing on my mind was chasing her away.
I mentally shook myself. If I started thinking about her scent, her smile, her strength, then I’d turn around, swoop her up into my arms, and march back to the truck.
Lucy trudged behind me, the borrowed boots clomping and slipping with each step. At one point I heard her grumble under her breath, cursing the footwear… and probably me too. I glanced back at her after a particularly loud stomp followed by a scuffle and small gasp. She was walking fine now, as fine as she could in my boots. Had she tripped?
Slowing my pace until I was almost walking side-by-side with her—which was a dangerous thing to do, because her scent was the best kind of drug—I kept an eye on her from my periphery.
She was casting furtive glances to the left and right, her gaze intermittently traveling up the looming stacks of mangledvehicles. Her expression was strained, mouth set in a shallow frown, brows scrunched. Her arms were crossed tightly, as if she could hug this whole situation away. I didn’t like seeing her like that, it gnawed at my guts. She was uncomfortable, and the blame could only rest on one person. Me.
“Kane,” she whispered, her voice timid. “This place gives me the creep.”
I turned my head, meeting her wide, green-gold eyes. Fuck, she looked almost lost. A babe in the damn woods, with only the big bad wolf for company. I should walk her back to the truck and take her home. But my brothers had gotten into my head, their jabs well and truly adhered to my gray matter.
“Show some backbone,” I blurted, voice pitched aggressively.
She flinched.
Guilt shot through my stomach, trying to force up my esophagus and make me give Lucy an apology. I swallowed down the words of weakness before they could escape.
With a grimace, I pushed on, leading us deeper into the wreckage.
I swung right, walked a few feet, then curved around about a three hundred tires Otto would eventually sell in bulk. A local landscaping company usually snatched them up, shredding the old tires into recycled mulch for playgrounds. After one last turn, the wreckage stack I wanted came into view.
Beside me, Lucy was now rubbing her upper arms roughly. The night air had cooled significantly since I’d dragged Lucy out of the house. She was probably freezing in the shorts and shirt. My hands lifted, fingers capturing the front of my jacket. Before I knew what I was doing, I had taken the leather coat off and wrapped it around Lucy’s shoulders. It swallowed her small frame up, and the sight of her wearing my clothing almost made me come undone.
But it was her expression that really shattered me.
Eyes wide with surprise.
Mouth slightly open.
She was caught off guard, looking for the lie within the act of kindness.
Only there wasn’t one, not this time. My only consideration was,She’s cold. I can help her be less cold.
I strode away quickly, running away from the mistake I’d made and the mistakes I wanted to make.
When I stood beside the correct mound of salvage, I waited for her to catch up. When she did, I avoided her gaze, instead pointing to a narrow gap between two massive wrecks.
“Squeeze through there,” I instructed, not bothering to sugarcoat it.
She blinked at me, confusion wrinkling her delicate features. “Kane, I?—”
I cut her off. “I need the steering wheel of a ‘72 Maserati Boomerang.”
“I don’t even know what that looks like,” she replied, her voice small.
“You don’t need to know,” I snapped, frustration bubbling. “Crawl through there, and you’ll find it.”
“But how am I supposed to remove?—”
I cut her off again, mostly because she sounded so uneasy. If she kept talking, I wouldn’t go through with this.
