Page 3 of Defeated

Closing my eyes, the sounds wash over me, ripping me back to that nightmare moment.

The slap of my sneakers on the sidewalk. The harsh drumbeat of my heart as I pushed myself to run faster. Just a little faster. Footsteps in fast pursuit, slowly closing the distance. Yells. Laughter, and then the cloying scent as they come within grabbing distance.

I’ve given up all hope I’ll evade them. They’re too close to dodge, too close to find a place to shift and use four legs to survive.

And then I catch another scent.

A dark-haired, blue-eyed man is climbing out of his truck. Shifter. That’s all I know. It’s all I need to know.

I swerve around him and sprint on. A mistake.

I run right into a dead end, spin around, and it’s game over.

If it’s a choice between death and living in a cage, I know exactly what option I’ll choose. I stiffen my spine, project a confidence that’s only surface deep, and prepare to fight to my death.

One of the five shifters prowling down the alley toward me goes flying. He grunts as he smashes into a wall. Something cracks, and I see the man again. The man who’d been climbing out of his car.

He looks right at me and says one word before he charges the shifters. “Run.”

I don’t hesitate. The shifters lunge toward me. I duck, dodge, and somehow, I’m past them, leaving the alley brawl behind me.

I’m at my front door, my hand shaking so badly it takes five minutes to unlock it before I realize I should have stayed to help.

Even later than that, guilt drives me out of my apartment. The fight is over, any bodies gone, and only a few splashes of blood dot the ground.

It takes nearly two hours, but I track the guy who saved my life to his townhouse.

He’s putting a bulging duffel into his car as I creep closer. The only sign of his fight hours before is a bruise on his right jaw; otherwise, he’s unhurt.

I keep my distance, but something gives me away.

He looks right at me and smiles. “I’d hoped I would see you again.”

Then he approaches.

I surprise myself by not running, surprise myself even more by telling him my name when he tells me his. Colton.

“There are two packs in this city, Zoe,” he says, keeping two feet away from me as if he knows I’ll take the first opportunity to run. “I can protect you from some of them. But not all. I’m getting out of the city for a while to let the fall-out from this fight die down. You should too. Or if you have nowhere to go, come with me?”

And even though he shows no sign he wants to hurt me, I look at this big alpha and I think the worst. I walk away, reassuring myself I’m doing the right thing.

I regret it immediately.

By the time I hurry back to his house, his car is gone, and no matter what time I come to his house, morning, noon, or night, he never comes back.

My eyes prickle and I drop my face into my hands. If I’d accepted my fate to stay with a man who would grind me down until I was nothing more than dust beneath his foot, Colton would still be breathing.

Now he’s lying dead somewhere, and this guy is here to steal his belongings.

Sadness soon gives way to anger.

To rage.

He’s dead and he won’t care that someone is robbing his apartment. Maybe I’m stupid for being this angry about it, but I can’t walk away and let this guy get away with it.

“Zoe, you are going to get yourself killed, and you will fully deserve it for doing such a stupid thing,” I mutter. “Is a DVD player or saving his TV really worth it?”

No. It’s not worth it. But it’s not about Colton’s DVD player, his TV, or stuff. It’s about protecting something of his because he protected me.

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