Page 48 of Wolf Lost

She let out a breathy, unamused laugh. “I’ll be fine, young man. You go take care of Sawyer.”

So Dez hung up and went to dial Gavin. His goddamned hand wouldn’t stop twitching, and he almost dropped the phone twice before he stopped and thought about what he was doing.

What was Gavin going to do?

They weren’t in Afghanistan anymore, and Gavin wasn’t his commanding officer. Dez didn’t have to look to him for orders, or even answers. He and Gavin had always had that together, in a way even Asher couldn’t have understood. Gavin gave Dez the order. Dez killed the target. They both ended up with blood on their hands.

For the first time, Dez realized Gavin didn’t have to give the order, and if Gavin told him not to kill the man, he might damn well do it anyway. His hand didn’t so much as shake when he set his phone back on the nightstand.

Dez already had everything he needed to find Sawyer: their pack bond. Well, he could also use a car. His truck was two miles away at the shop. He could run that on three legs, and pretty quickly too.

It was already getting dark outside; it always seemed dark early in the mountains. Maybe a wolf running through town would get a ton of attention, but he couldn’t care about that when Sawyer’s life was in danger. And Kareni already knew. Maybe she’d cover for him.

He grabbed one of the reusable grocery bags from the kitchen and stuffed a change of clothes in it, then rolled his cane up in the top part. It looked awkward, but when he got outside and shifted, all he would have to do was grab the fabric-covered cane in his mouth, and he could carry everything he needed.

He went out the back door, setting the alarm and closing the door after himself, though he didn’t have the keys to lock it.

The biggest concern he had about the plan was the distinct possibility that he wouldn’t be able to shift. The moon cycle was at a low ebb, barely tugging his instincts at all. Instead of thinking about the moon, he thought of Sawyer. About how it had felt to run together under the full moon in their fur, and about how he needed to find him—

For the first time since he’d returned from Afghanistan, his body did precisely what he asked it to, right when he needed it. Even the throbbing of his bad leg felt a little muted, compared to what it had been all day. It was probably adrenaline, and it still wasn’t good, but it wasn’t going to stop him from doing what he had to do.

He snatched up the cane and bag in his mouth, and he ran.

27

Not Ready to Make Nice

Sawyer woke to a stinging cheek. His head throbbed as well, but the cheek was more immediate. He opened his eyes and found Mark standing over him, hand poised to slap him. Or rather, to slap him again, he supposed.

“Good. It’s about time you woke up.” Mark turned and started pacing in front of him.

Like something out of a movie, he was tied to a chair, hands behind his back and one ankle to each front chair leg. Unlike the movies, he wasn’t in an abandoned shack or a warehouse but a cozy little ski cabin. It looked like one of the private honeymoon rentals the Kismet resort had scattered around the mountain.

It was also uncomfortably warm. Sawyer had been in Colorado less than two months, but it seemed he’d gotten used to the temperature at least a little, because the raging fire Mark had built in the fireplace felt like massive overkill.

He wondered if Mark meant to kill him and burn his body in it.

“Are you listening to me?” Mark demanded.

Sawyer looked back at him. “Were you talking?”

The man’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he stepped forward, fingers twitching like he wanted to slap Sawyer again. It was almost funny how twitching fingers had such a different connotation for Sawyer these days. They meant Dez was thinking about things best left in the past.

He hoped Dez was okay. Especially if Mark did kill Sawyer. Dez was still healing from the damage his past had done to him, and Sawyer getting killed might be a serious setback. He thought demanding to know what Mark intended to do with him was reasonable. “Look, are you going to kill me or not?”

Mark took a half step back, shocked. “Kill you? I—” He turned away, jaw set in anger. “I should. I should kill you and take your head back to Bakersfield to show the pack what happens to people who can’t follow simple orders.”

For some reason, that was funny. Was the man going to wrap his head up in a sheet and carry it back home in the trunk of his car? What would he do if he got pulled over and his car was searched? “Don’t mind the head, officers. I needed to teach some people a lesson.” Sawyer burst into hysterical giggles.

“What are you laughing at?” Mark looked at him like maybe his head had already come loose.

The laughter died as fast as it had come, and Sawyer distantly knew that it hadn’t been born of real amusement. He was terrified, pumped full of adrenaline, and convinced his minutes were numbered. Hours was too big a time frame; it was definitely minutes. He met Mark’s eye and answered, completely deadpan. “You, obviously.”

Mark pursed his lips and glared at Sawyer. “That’s your biggest problem, you know that? You never take anything seriously. It’s all one big joke to you, isn’t it?”

“I have always taken you seriously, Mark. I just don’t like you. I don’t like anything about you.” The abject honesty might have been a mistake, but if Mark was going to kill him either way, he might as well puncture the man’s enormous ego. “Why are you doing this? Why not tell the pack that I was more trouble than I was worth and let it go? You got what you wanted. You own the pack. Why did you have to drag me into it?”

Mark flung an arm out, motioning to an invisible audience. “They won’t let me forget about you. They all whisper about you behind my back.”

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