“You’re past exhausted. But if you’re able to talk for a while, I do have questions. I have to consider the safety of my pack.”
Safety? Such an odd thing for an alpha to bother with. She nodded.
For a long moment he studied her. Then he nodded back. “This other pack—you believe they’ll attempt to track you.”
“Absolutely.”
“Where are they?”
“Missouri, near a little place called Portageville. They have some land, but nothing like this. Much closer quarters.”
“You said six wolves including the alpha, and no humans now that you’ve left them.”
“Right.”
“How many of the six are likely to come after you?”
“Oh, all of them. They travel together when they leave their territory at all.”
His chest rumbled, a thoughtful sound, no threat in it. Still it was a growl, and April’s body tensed. He leaned forward and rested his arms across his knees. His chair sat halfway across the room; but even this shift in his posture, the way it emphasized the immense span of his shoulders and chest, made her pulse leap and her stomach twist.
The alpha went very still. Quietly he said, “Can you tell me what was done to you?”
“They…um…” April’s breath came harder as images, sounds, and above all tactile memories of the last two months pounced on her. Huge hands, every grip like iron, bruising. Her own hands withdrew against her body, and her body withdrew against the chair. “Um, for one example…the get-togethers Nathan mentioned. One form of entertainment was…was to stalk me. Appear in my space, grab me from behind. I couldn’t—I couldn’t know when it was coming, couldn’t brace myself. Once I messed up Drew’s breakfast, and they put me in a bedroom and kept it up. The game. For a full day, taking turns when they got bored. Circling me, grabbing me, lifting me off my feet and dangling me. I know it sounds harmless, but—”
“No,” the alpha said. “It doesn’t. Not at all.”
She looked up, and then she couldn’t look away. His eyes were the eyes of a true wolf, gleaming in the face of the man. His focus was absolute. A sweet calm seeped into April while the alpha’s eyes held hers.
Which was impossible. She gritted her teeth and swiveled in the chair, severing eye contact. But that was no good either. She had to keep this beast Malachi in sight. Not that she could. Not unless he allowed it.
“I’m sorry you were harmed,” he said.
Calm down. Tell him what he needed to know. Hope he wasn’t faking her out for his own twisted reasons. Regardless, wolves were unsafe. Some perhaps less so than others, the possibility on which she’d wagered her life.
“How did you escape them?”
“Drew had taken my keys, and he would hide them in different places in the house. I found them once, but I was too scared to touch them. Which he knew, I think, because he got sort of careless about where he hid them. But one day Kyle swiped them and gave them back to me and told me to run whenever I had the chance. I waited until Drew was asleep, sneaked out, and drove away.”
It sounded so obvious when she said it aloud. She expected a scoffing sound, but the alpha was quiet and still, his eyes intent on her.
“No one guarded you at night?” he said.
“Not by then, no. And I figured out they weren’t all light sleepers like he claimed.”
“But you believed him at first, that he would hear you trying to leave even in his sleep. And punish you for the attempt.”
She ducked her head. “That sums it up, yeah. I just…last night I decided I had to try, and if he killed me, well, he was going to do that anyway.”
“Thank fate you risked it,” he said with quiet earnestness. “Did you call the police?”
“No.” Her pulse notched up at the idea, at the inevitable result that would bring. “I don’t want any other humans involved in this, Alpha. Not even police. Drew would hurt them, probably kill them. I know that sounds paranoid, but I’m telling you, he would.”
“What about your friends, your family? If you’ve been a prisoner for over six weeks, you’ve surely been reported missing.”
She covered her face. Humiliation was a scalding flood. Oh, she did not want to talk about this. She did not want to say the words or to hear them, to acknowledge the reality of the last year of her life.
“April?”
