“You with us?”
That voice again. It takes me way too long to remember who it belongs to.
Beth.
That’s Beth’s voice whispering in the dark.
And why are we in the fucking?—
Oh.
Bits and pieces start to come back to me, none of it good, and panic hits me full force. My heart pounds, pulse almost deafening in the quiet of wherever the fuck we are, as the reality of what happened sinks in. “Yeah. I’m with you,” I manage, voice scratchy. “Really wishing I was still asleep, though.”
“Unconscious,” she snarls, making me flinch. “You weren’t asleep. They hit you so fucking hard they knocked you out.”
That would explain the headache. Jesus, I really don’t need another concussion. It’s looking likely though because I remember yelled voices, the smell of burnt rubber andsomething throwing me from my fucking bike, but everything else is a blur. I can’t remember how we came to end up in the back of a van.
Fuck, I don’t even know if we’re all here because I can’tsee.
“Beth,” I croak, mouth suddenly drier than the desert. “Is everyone—” I can’t finish that sentence, and I jump a mile when a hand reaches out and grabs my wrist.
“It’s only me,” Beth says softly, the anger gone from her voice. “I’m sorry. I forgot that you can’t see.”
“Can you?” I ask, realising what a stupid question that is as soon as it leaves my mouth.Shifters,Morgan.
“Yes,” she says, with no trace of judgement or sarcasm, and I could kiss her. “And we’re all here. A little banged up, but we’ll heal once we get this fucking silver off us.”
“Silver?”
“They were nice enough to restrain us with silver-coated handcuffs laced with aconite.” Now I hear the sarcasm and the pain. “It smarts.” She delivers what has to be a severe understatement in the driest tone, and a laugh escapes me.
“Fuck, sorry,” I offer quickly, and she squeezes my wrist again in acknowledgement.
“How’s the head?” someone else asks, and I think it’s Flint.
“Hurts,” I say, reaching up to rub my temple, surprised when I find I’m not restrained in any way. My hand stills as that realisation sinks in. “Who was it?”
Beth snarls again, low and pissed off. It raises the hairs on the back of my neck. I don’t know her. I don’t really know any of them, and that sets my heart racing all over again.
Not now. I will my body to behave, trying to keep my breathing slow and steady, but it’shard.
“For fuck’s sake, Beth.” Flint again. “You’re scaring him.”
The sound of someone moving has me flinching again, and then there’s the flick of a lighter, followed by a soft flame that has me scrunching my eyes shut against the sudden brightness.
“Hey,” Flint murmurs when I open my eyes again. “Better?”
So much better, I could almost cry.
I’ve spent more time with Flint than the others, and the warm smile on his familiar face settles me enough to finally breathe easier. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Sorry,” Beth whispers, giving my wrist another squeeze before letting go.
I’d forgotten she was still touching me, and it shocks me enough that I forget for a moment to be panicked when Flint lets his lighter go out.
“I’m still here,” he says. “I know you can’t see anything, but it’s okay. Beth’s beside you, I’m in front, and Mal is over in the corner behind me.”
“Hey, Morgan.” Mal sounds... wrong. It takes a moment for me to register why.
