Page 27 of Fate Awakened

“Dante has him in four.” His answer surprises me. First, I didn’t think he would willingly tell me where they were keeping Keith, and second I’m surprised Dante has him in the more official interrogation rooms instead of the ones Jake preferred to use.

My feet stumble as my wolf attempts to steer me in that direction before I catch myself and continue behind Jake.

Focus!

We make it the rest of the way to my front door without incident. I wonder momentarily how close this babysitting endeavor will be when he walks in and sits on my couch, remote already in his hand.

“You’ve got twenty minutes. No primping, Princess.” He quips sarcastically before ignoring me altogether.

For precisely two seconds, I consider bolting out the front door, grabbing my motorcycle, and driving north until I can shift and find her. Part of me knew if I was close enough, I could feel her, smell her, hell, anything to get me back to her. It’s only two seconds because as I process what that would look like, I realize the gravity of abandoning my pack.

Exile.

I owe them more than that. Not only that, but they have some plan, some information I don’t have, and they may be able to help me find her, so instead of abandoning everyone I’ve ever cared about my entire life, I head toward my room.

My body freezes in the doorway, remembering her last moment with me. Remembering her laugh, her ridiculous moans as she ate her tacos, and her whimpers as she came undone on my cock. Everything in me wants to walk over and inhale the bed if only to have her smell one more time, but I know that if I do, I’ll lose the very limited sense of control I’m currently holding onto.

My Firefly.

Steeling my resolve, I walk into the bathroom, pulling off Dante’s sweats and tossing them into the large hamper by the door. I prepare myself for the next steps in our investigation, keeping my wolf in check by imagining all of the ways Hudson is going to die.

Chapter 12

Bri

Manytimesinmylife, I’ve wondered about my safety, be it where my next meal would come from, or who I had to avoid at home to survive. But as I stood in the kitchen next to a bowl of perfectly seasoned chili, I couldn’t quite figure out why I wasn’t more afraid. Two men, who could easily best me in strength and speed, sat cautiously, discussing the matter of my kidnapping as if it were any typical Sunday dinner.

“I’ll have her out of here tomorrow. Tuesday at the latest,” Hudson speaks around large spoonfuls, “I just need to get in touch with him,” he explains as if my mere existence here is a trivial logistical arrangement.

“I doubt that. He isn’t here.” Ghost returned, finishing his bowl before heading to the sink. He took his time carefully washing out its contents before placing it into the dishwasher underneath. My attention bounces back to Hudson, noting his hand as it clenches around his fork.

“What do you mean he isn’t here?” Hudson’s voice comes out through his teeth, and he appears to be trying to contain his anger at this revelation. If Ghost notices Hudson's reaction, he doesn’t show it as he continues portioning the pot of chili into separate Tupperware before carrying the haul to the freezer.

“The LLC is in Denver for the Fallon decision,” Ghost answers matter-of-factly, his back to us as he washes the pot. I file that information away for another time while my eyes continue to slide back and forth like I‘m watching a tennis match, idly finishing the chili in my bowl and switching to the salad, glad to have the attention off me as I load up on the food which will allow me to be ready to leave before first light.

“When’s the trial over?” Hudson asks, his voice coming out with less force, but his eyes are locked on Ghost as if his answers will make or break all his plans.

And from the sound of it, they just might.

“Started last Monday. It’s moved to chamber sessions with the voting members. Should be decided any day now.” He shrugs, turning toward me and grabbing my empty bowl to wash in the sink.

Why’s this so damn civilized?

“Who’s Second?” Hudson asks, concern becoming evident on his face. “Vinny?”

“Big Tony,” Ghost responds, shaking his head, and the way he says the name makes me think that guy isn’t a better option.

My mind spins. They’ve yet to answer a single one of my questions since Hudson arrived. I’ve wanted to interrupt to find out something, anything about where I am or why I’m here. But instead, I’ve resorted to listening and trying to decode their conversation on my own.

“So, if this Marlo guy is gone at this trial, why don’t we just return me to Vegas, and no one needs to be the wiser?” My offer surprises Hudson, who looks at me as if he’s just registering that I’m still here.

“I set foot back in Vegas, and I’m a dead man,” he says more to himself than to me, returning his focus to the food in front of him.

“Why? No one knows that I’m missing. My roommate thinks I’m with Cain. Cain’s too busy with his harem to notice I’m not around, and I haven’t missed work or school. No one needs to know,” I say, my voice dropping to be as sweet as I can muster. I want him to believe I’m on his side. To see me as an ally.

Hudson laughs. Full out, like, crazy person laughter.

“You can’t be this stupid. You really have no fucking idea what shit you’re involved in? I thought you were bright. Your roommate certainly made you out to be, but you’ve no idea who he is, do you? You have no idea who you’re in bed with? Just another dumb gold-digging bitch.” His face turns hard. His expression’s harsh as he chastizes me with words I’ve heard a hundred times before.

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