Chapter Eighteen
Krista padded through the undergrowth, dainty paws picking a path through the grass, ears pricked for any sound. She could move more swiftly and silently in her vixen form. And she had a pretty good idea of where she was going now.
Talking to Dawnie and seeing what was happening at the party had cleared things up in her mind.
It was clear as day that Dawnie looked so exhausted because she’d been out searching for Ethan. And from the anger and tension radiating from her body, it was obvious she hadn’t found him. She’d gone to the party with her people to gather information on Krista and Blake, and to make sure that nobody talked. She was sending a message; she still ruled this valley, and anybody who talked would pay with their life.
Now, why would Dawnie be out searching for Ethan? And why had she tried to get Coffman to leave the searching to her? If the boy had been kidnapped by someone outside of Dawnie’s organization, she’d have joined in the search with the Golden Eyes pride for numerous reasons. She’d be furious that someone had acted without her say-so. And she’d reap the rewards if she could find the cub for Michael—he’d be in her debt forever.
The only reason she’d try to search on her own would be if one of her kids had grabbed Ethan. But somehow, Ethan had escaped.
There was only one way that Krista could imagine Ethan would stay hidden all this time—if Gummi was helping him. Percy would have killed him, and Eva-Jo would have handed him over to her mother.
And that was why Krista was heading through the woods right now—because she knew something that Dawnie didn’t. Gummi had a secret hiding place where he hid from his mother and brother when they were on a tear—he’d shown it to Krista once when she was living with him. And Krista had told Hattie about it when she drew her aside a little while ago. She’d made Hattie swear not to tell Blake until sundown, just in case something happened to her.
She’d thought about telling Blake that she was pretty sure Maybelline had fed them false information, but seeing that bug hidden in her purse had detonated an explosion of rage and hurt in her heart. She’d stormed off before she had a chance to talk herself back down.
He’s my mate.
And he doesn’t trust me.
What else has he lied about?
Also, Gummi was a huge man-child trapped in an enormous bear body. He knew Krista; she was pretty sure she could sweet-talk him into handing over the boy. If he smelled or saw Blake, he was liable to shift and go on the attack, and then heaven knew what would happen to the boy.
But mostly, hadn’t she left without him because her feelings were hurt?
As she padded along the ground, she was constantly sniffing the air, ears perked up and listening.
She could smell some faint, fading odor trails from Gummi, weeks old most likely. That was excellent. It meant he still came up here on a regular basis.
She didn’t smell any fresh trails, but Gummi knew how to use noscentium. He was a fearful bear by nature, poor guy. And he’d definitely be covering his tracks.
Her nostrils flared as she sniffed the air. There were patterns in the smells around her—not individual threads, but patches of different colors and hues that formed an overall picture.
Krista reached the hillside and began pacing. There was an entryway here somewhere, covered with vines and underbrush.
The sound of rustling leaves froze her in her steps. What if she’d been wrong? What if Percy was the one holding Ethan prisoner? Or Eva-Jo? She’d be screwed, that’s what. The best she could hope for would be that she could lead them away and give Ethan a chance to escape.
If he was still alive.
The sound stopped, and she stood perfectly still, her heart rate slowing. She couldn’t scent anything; it could have been some small forest creature, or maybe the wind.
Damn it. She should have brought Blake with her. And now it was too late. She didn’t have time to go back and get him, and she might have put Ethan at risk. And she could have slapped herself for it.
She felt the sting of Blake’s betrayal, but she understood it, too. Getting the cub back home safe had to be top priority. Blake didn’t know her that well. He didn’t know if he could trust her—and he hadn’t been willing to stake a cub’s life on her doing the right thing.
He’d done the wrong thing but for all the right reasons. Just like when he’d disobeyed orders to go after his squad behind enemy lines.
She started moving again, nosing along the ground, desperately searching for any hint of lion-cub scent. Nothing.
And try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about Blake. She remembered holler talk about newly mated couples, how it fogged their brains, how hard it was for them to be apart from each other when the coupling was new. It was really messing her up when she needed to think clearly.
The wind picked up, rustling the trees again, and she heard crunching leaves, but she didn’t scent anything.
Wait. Something was definitely coming her way, through the thick brush… she should scent something. Unless something was masking its scent.
Panicked, she turned and ran blindly, and the footsteps grow louder, crashing behind her.
