Page 27 of Fire Bound

Sterling has never met me in person, but that doesn’t matter. I’m his enemy and he’s mine. Sometimes you don’t have to meet someone face to face to know that you hate them. How could I ever like that man knowing what he’s done to hundreds of innocent women? He kidnaps them, sometimes right out of their beds, and forces them into his breeding facilities. A man like that is instantly unlikeable in my book.

A car door opens, and I hear the low voices murmuring to each other. “What the hell was that? She’s no good to us if she’s roadkill,” a man’s voice I don’t recognize criticizes.

“She went off script tonight by leaving the bar early. I had to improvise,” another deep voice assures.

They were watching me at the bar? How could I have not noticed? I was raised to pay attention to my surroundings, but I’ve been living in my own little bubble for months. Looking beyond myself was too much to handle. I could barely keep up with myself, let alone someone else. I’ve been in an alcohol-induced fog for some time now, but it was reckless.

I’ve been reckless with everything. My life more than anything.

There are footsteps. The way the soles of the shoes clack against the pavement, I would guess whoever is up there is wearing dress shoes. I think back to the bar and try to think if I saw anyone dressed in nicer clothes but draw a blank.

“Wait,” the first voice orders. “We need to go.”

“Why?”

“Someone’s coming, I can smell them. They’re getting close.”

The second person pauses like he’s considering his options. My ears strain to listen to their next move while I desperately try to keep unlocking the buckle. “She’srightthere. I’ll go get her and then we can leave.”

“No,” the voice argues. “We don’t have time. We’ll find another way—he always has a backup plan.”

“I’ll go quick,” they insist. “He needs her—”

“You’re not listening to me. We do not want to be here when they show up. I’ve seen what they can do, we don’t stand a chance.”

There’s a silent moment of hesitation before they finally sigh in defeat. “Fine, but this is on you. When he’s angry at us for not following through with the plan, the blame will not be placed on me.”

The dress shoes clack against the pavement as he retreats. When the door of the car slams closed, my claws finally make their appearance.Better late than never, I guess.In a mad scramble, I slice through the seat belt restraining me. My body aches as I fall unceremoniously into the ruins of my car.

On unsteady feet, I clamber out of the car and hurry up the hill back to the road. My black boots slip in wet grass and mud from the rain that fell days prior. My nails dig into the earth, trying to gain some traction so I can make it up the embankment before they leave.

I’m in no shape for a fight right now, but I want to see their faces, or at least a license plate before they disappear down the dark road. Had we made it down the road another mile, the security cameras placed around pack territory would have caught them, but out here, they’ll be able to go on without a trace.

With one last push, I stumble back onto the road. Blood trickles from the cut on my lip and nose. I’m not completely sure, but I think there might be a gash on my forehead. Dislocating your shoulder twice in one week should be a record. It would be if I wasn’t raised with my brothers. Those assholes were breaking bones every other day, usually from wounds inflicted by each other.

Cradling my injured arm with one good one, I watch the taillights of the SUV as it drives away. Squinting to clear my hazy vision, I look for the license plate number.

“Shit,” I whisper under my breath when I see the plate is missing. Truly a smart move on their part. If I was planning on running someone off the road, I wouldn’t want any identifying markers on my vehicle either.

From what it sounds like, they weren’t just planning on making me crash. They wanted to takeme.

But why?

My silent wondering is silenced when there’s rustling in the trees behind me. Whirling around, my wolf surges forward, prepared to take on another assailant. When Isabeau’s body appears from the shadows she can melt into, I relax, releasing all the air in my lungs in relief.

Her pale eyes assess the situation in front of her, from my completely demolished car to my banged-up state. She cocks her head in the direction of where the speeding car went. Her hearing is so advanced she can hear ants moving in the dirt below our very feet. She often wears headphones to help drown out the sounds around her when it becomes too much for her to handle.

In a move that even my advanced eyesight has trouble tracking, her leather-clad body is just a blur in the night, she moves to stand on the road with me.

“I don’t know who they were, I didn’t recognize their voices,” I begin to stammer out, feeling rattled. “There weren’t any license plates either, but I have the make and model.”

She’s quiet for a moment, just watching me with eyes that never miss a single detail. “Are you alright?”

I’m growing really tired of that question. The answer is always the same. I’m not alright. Haven’t been for a long time. “I’ll live.”

Beau nods her head almost in an approving way. “Good. Ransom is running after the car. We’ll know soon if he finds them.” She shifts to stand in front of me. Without preamble or permission, her cold hands grab my arm and in one quick twist, places it back in the socket.

It doesn’t hurt any less now than it did when Jax did the same thing just days ago. I grit my teeth and ride out the wave of pain.

---