The car slows, then stops about twenty feet away.
I hold my breath, my heart hammering so hard I’m sure it must be audible.Please keep going, please keep going.
The engine cuts out. A door opens, then closes with a soft click. Footsteps approach my hiding place, slow and deliberate.
“Hey there,” says a friendly voice. “You need some help?”
Shit.
I slowly push myself to my feet, brushing leaves from my clothes as I straighten. A man stands a few yards away, leaning against the side of a white van. He’s tall, with close-cropped dark hair and a friendly smile. A cigarette dangles from his fingers, the tip glowing red in the darkness.
“You lost?” he asks, taking a drag.
I eye him warily, trying to decide if he’s safe. He doesn’t look threatening. He looks like a normal guy in jeans and a t-shirt.
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected. “Just out for a walk.”
He raises an eyebrow. “At this time of night? In this part of the island? Not many tourists venture out here after dark.”
“I’m not a tourist,” I say, then immediately regret it. The less he knows about me, the better.
His smile widens. “No? Then what are you doing running around like your ass is on fire?”
I don’t answer, just stare at him, trying to decide if I should make a run for it. He seems harmless enough, but my instincts are screaming at me to be careful.
“You need a ride somewhere?” he offers, gesturing to the van. “I’m heading into town. Could drop you off, no problem.”
I hesitate, weighing my options. It’s at least three miles to the marina, maybe more. I’d be risking running into the alphas or even Keith.
“I’m Bruce, by the way,” he says, extending a hand. “Bruce Hanley. I do maintenance work at the resort.”
That makes my decision. If he works at the resort, he might be able to help me get off the island without alerting the alphas.
“I’m Jessica,” I lie, shaking his hand briefly. “And yeah, a ride would be great. I need to get to the ferry.”
“The ferry?” He looks surprised. “You planning on leaving the island?”
“I have a... family emergency,” I say, the lie coming easily. “I need to get home right away.”
He studies me for a moment, then nods. “Hop in. I’ll get you there.”
I follow him to the van, climbing into the passenger seat while he circles around to the driver’s side. The interior smells of cigarettes and some kind of pine air freshener, the dashboard cluttered with coffee cups and fast food wrappers. Bruce slides behind the wheel, starts the engine, and pulls onto the road with smooth acceleration.
“So, Jessica,” he says, glancing at me. “Where are you from?”
“Portland,” I say, another lie. “Oregon.”
“Nice place. Been there once for a conference.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, then flicks it out the window. “What brings you to Wolf Isle? Vacation?”
I shrug, not wanting to get into details. “Something like that.”
He nods, apparently accepting my reticence. We drive in silence for a few minutes, the headlights cutting a path through the darkness. The road twists and turns, climbing uphill, then descending into a valley lined with dense forest.
The more he drives, the more I start to realize we’re not going in the right direction.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep the panic from my voice. “The ferry’s in the opposite direction.”
“We’re taking a shortcut,” Bruce says smoothly. “Road’s washed out near the marina from last night’s storm. Have to go around.”
