Page 17 of Wild Wolf

The Oscuras owned plenty of safe houses like this one, each used in times of need by various members of the pack or just as a quiet vacation spot for some members of our inner circle. They were off the record locations, their ownership bought for in cash without any kind of paper trail to lead the FIB to their doors and, like this one, most were set away from other houses. It meant that we could come and go around the house without having to worry about being spotted despite our spreading notoriety.

Instead of news of our escape from Solaria’s deadliest and supposedly most impenetrable prison dying down in the days that had passed since we’d achieved the previously assumed impossible, the story was only gaining momentum. Each day that passed drew more scathing criticism of the FIB, the rulers of our kingdom and even the members of the public who had failed to spot so much as a hair on any one of the escaped convicts’ heads. I had hoped the interest in us would fade faster than this, but there was little I could do to combat it. Perhaps in a few weeks they’d get bored of us but for now we had to remain vigilant at all times.

The news of Warden Pike’s death had been widely publicised too, the newscasters speculating that both Cain and Hastings were likely dead at the hands of the ‘unhinged and psychotic escapees.’

Which probably made the plan we had concocted utterly idiotic. But I couldn’t find it in me to care.

Grimolda Isle was a supposedly unoccupied island way off the western coast of our kingdom, surrounded by nothing but ocean for miles around and apparently home to an endangered colony of sea urchins, meaning that no Fae was permitted to approach it.

The invitation Pike had given us claimed different.

“Do you think the sea urchins were relocated?” Hastings asked, concern lining his brow.

“I doubt there were ever any sea urchins to begin with,” Cain grunted in answer, leaning against the doorframe and looking out at the ocean just as I had been from my position standing on the wooden deck which surrounded the squat, white lodge.

I glanced at the two of them then back towards the sea.

“The moon is whispering to me,” I told them because here by the ocean, where the power of my most adored celestial being called the movement of the sea itself into action, I could always hear her murmuring more clearly.

“Oh yeah?” Cain asked, perking up. Of course the stronzo would be interested in what the moon had to say – the rose vine mark on his arm stood out clearly against his bare skin as he stood there in a grey tank. As ever, he was hoping I might be focusing my efforts on providing him with a cure to it. “What’s it saying?”

“She,” I corrected because an entity as powerful as the moon was obviously female. “Is warning me about what awaits us in that place.” I bobbed my chin in the direction of the island even though none of us could see it from here.

“And what’s that?” Hastings asked, tugging his fringe down over his eyes and peering out through it.

“Death,” I replied with a shrug. “A foul wind blows from that island, tainting all who breathe it in.”

“Well isn’t that just reassuring as shit,” Cain grumbled, folding his arms so his biceps bulged.

“At least we’ve been warned,” I purred while Hastings paled so much that he blended in with the paintwork.

I brushed past Cain and moved back into the little house. It smelled of the wood it had been built from, carved decorations hanging from the walls, beams exposed overhead. There was a large bed in the one room which led off of this one, and a kitchenette and a bathroom that required water magic to be fully functional. Luckily for us, we had Ethan and Hastings to help with that.

“That’s a scheming face if ever I saw one,” Sin commented as I moved to the kitchen counter and pulled a pen and notepad towards me.

“When isn’t she scheming?” Ethan retorted and the corner of my lips hitched up a touch.

“She’s baking a cake in her mind and I want a slice of it, a juicy, cream-filled slice.” He licked his lips. The guy was obsessed with cake sometimes, I swear.

“Has Jerome pulled through on any intel?” I asked Sin who shook his head.

“Nothing. All he said was that he has the full layout of the compound, the entrance points to the island and the movements of around sixty boats which have recently docked at the island – along with a count of how many Fae departed them. It’s as if he didn’t even try.”

I arched a brow, exchanging a look with Ethan who rolled his eyes.

“Any chance you have those figures written down?” I asked.

Sin sighed. “Your little Wolfy was listening and scribbled a thing or two down,” he said, reaching across the counter and flipping my notebook open to reveal six full pages of notes and a damn good sketch Ethan had done based off of Jerome’s information.

“And this is…disappointing to you?” I asked in confusion, scanning the detailed information which included notes on guard rotations that Jerome had managed to track using a satellite he’d hacked, as well as four different proposed points of exit he’d noticed that weren’t watched well enough.

“Do you see any kill notices on there, kitten?” Sin asked. “Is there a single green flag beside any of those names with an asterisk stating ‘this-dude-is-a-piece-of-shit-whose-head-would-look-better-off-in-a-cabbage-patch’?”

“There…is not,” I agreed.

“And do you know precisely how long it’s been since I killed a deserving motherfucker, wild girl?” Sin pressed.

“Like…eighteen hours. I’m pretty sure you still have Pike’s blood under your fingernails.”

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