Page 58 of A Bear's Secret

Chapter Fifteen

Trevor

The last thingthat Trevor grabbed was a photo of him and his Papa, taken only a month before Papa had died. He looked at it for a moment, then shoved it into his duffel bag and slung the bag over his shoulder, making his way down the hall to the kids’ rooms.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to Tim and Lizzy, but he had to say something.

Do I say I’m sorry?he thought. They won’t understand, they’re too young.

Maybe I should just leave without saying anything.

In the hallway, he paused.

I can’t, he thought. That’s cruel beyond measure.

Downstairs, he suddenly heard heavy footsteps crossing the front porch, and he retreated into the hall.

Fuck, he thought. I thought Dad was out in the workshop.

Then someone banged on the downstairs door, loud enough to make Trevor jump.

“OPEN UP!” someone shouted.

Trevor frowned. He didn’t recognize the voice, and pack members, as much as he mostly didn’t like them, weren’t usually given to banging on the door and demanding entry.

Something else was going on, and Trevor thought back to the night before, to whatever had been in those big cabinets in the back of the workshop, to the kid he’d let free.

He dropped the duffel bag in the hallway and went back to his bedroom. When he got to the window, he stopped short.

In the driveway were two armored cars, bristling with men in tactical vests and guns.

I’m an idiot, he thought. I’ve thought that they were up to no good for how long, and I go back today?

I’m sunk.

He felt like an icicle working their way through his heart.

Someone banged on the door again, and he heard his mother padding along the entryway.

“I’m comin’!” she shouted, sounding even more hungover than usual.

Trevor sat on his bed and buried his head in his hands, feeling utterly beyond hope. He could hear his mother open the door and then scream. He curled his good fist into a ball, his fingernails cutting into his palms, and he listened to the men crash through his house. His mom kept on hollering, screaming and shouting something unintelligible. Then he heard the heavy sound of footsteps up the stairs.

His heart felt like it was made of lead, the blood pumping through his veins shards of glass.

He stood and went to the door, hands in the air, and stood calmly in the hallway as the men with the vests, helmets and guns charged up the stairs.

“On the ground!” the first man shouted. He was human, but armed. Heavily armed.

“There are kids,” Trevor said, getting on his knees, feeling his whole body run hot, then cold. His wolf itched and howled, but he fought it down.

Shift and you’re dead, he reminded himself. If you go out like this, you’ll never see Sloane and Austin again.

Right now, you’ve got a fighting chance.

“The last two doors on the right, there’s kids,” he said, and then he could hear doors slam open, and Tim and Lizzy’s crying mingled with the shouting men.

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