Page 1 of Wolf Lost

1

Born to Run

Sawyer Holt was going to meet his fate in Kismet, Colorado.

Not in a romantic way, which was too bad, given the town’s reputation as a honeymoon destination. But Sawyer had yet to meet the man who could handle him, and it was too late for that. His luck had run out, and it hadn’t ever extended to finding the gorgeous man of his dreams.

No, Sawyer’s end was coming at the hands of the two thugs his former alpha had sent after him. They didn’t know they were going to kill him yet. Their orders were to capture and return him to California, no doubt, but that wasn’t going to happen. Sawyer would force them to kill him before he’d go back and play concubine to the man who’d murdered his father.

“You sure you’re okay, kid?” the trucker who’d driven him as far as Kismet asked, surprisingly concerned for a grizzled old guy. “You look sick.”

They were standing in a gas station parking lot where the trucker had stopped to fill up. He needed to turn north toward Washington, and that wasn’t the way Sawyer needed to go. Sawyer tried to smile at him, but it felt too awkward to look genuine. “I’ll be fine.” It wouldn’t, but there was nothing the trucker could do about it. Asking for anything more than a ride was asking the man to involve himself in problems that weren’t his. “It’s just been a long trip.”

The old guy nodded and repositioned the ancient ball cap on his head. “Ain’t easy getting across the country without a vehicle. Sure you don’t wanna go to Washington?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got to get farther east,” he said, glancing around as though trying to catch his bearings. He didn’t need to. It was obvious which way was east: the opposite direction from all of his thinning pack bonds. He was too far away to get much from them other than the odd drifting ghost of particularly strong emotions like fear or anger, but it was too close for comfort.

Eventually, with time and emotional distance, they would fade. He wished it would happen faster; he didn’t want to know how many of them were worried about him. Leaving would have been easier if he’d been able to hate them all.

“Good luck,” the old trucker said, grabbing the brim of his cap—rather formally, Sawyer thought—and ducking his head before heading back toward his rig.

Sawyer turned and called a “thanks” after him.

That was when he saw them. The two pack bonds that had been tickling his consciousness all morning, so close, but just out of sight. They were sitting in a car across the road, watching him. One of them motioned him over, like there was a chance he’d go back willingly. He rolled his eyes and looked around for his next move.

They were at a gas station on the outskirts of town, but it was only a handful of blocks away from an area that looked to be busy with foot traffic. Kismet was surprisingly small for a place with such a big reputation. Lots of tourists and not that many locals, he supposed. That was going to make it hard to run. Practically impossible, really. And there was nowhere to hide.

Still, he wasn’t going to make it easy. He hadn’t gotten this far just to give up without a fight, even if he didn’t see a way to win it.

With as little warning as possible, he took off running in the direction of the most people he could see. Tuning his ears back toward the pack thugs, he heard one of them curse under his breath and the other mutter an amused “told you so.”

Sawyer grinned. Even among the people he’d once called pack, he had a reputation for being difficult. The guy who’d motioned him over was new, brought in by Mark when he’d ascended to the position of alpha. A loyal beta, willing to do whatever his sociopathic alpha demanded of him. He was the type who expected an omega like Sawyer to be meek and come along quietly.

Like he’d have run to begin with if he’d been some kind of wilting violet.

It was the other one he had to watch for. The one who’d known him for most of his life. The man who had worked for his father, constantly trying to bring the pack alpha’s unruly omega son into line.

The muttering was quickly followed by the squealing of tires. He almost laughed. They were going to try to follow him through a crowd of people in a car? Good luck.

Maybe he could get away after all. If only he could get out of sight long enough to find a new ride, or a train, or anything heading east.

For the thousandth time since he’d run, he cursed his inability to simply break the pack bonds and leave them groping in the dark to find him. If there were a way to break them, he didn’t know it.

The bonds were supposed to be a good thing. They were intended to help pack find each other when someone was lost, give comfort in times of need, and generally reassure pack members that they weren’t alone. They weren’t supposed to be used against anyone, but this ability to track was inherent in them.

If he got close enough to Mark, the alpha could—and would—use the bonds to manipulate his emotions too. To force him to feel as though loyalty to the pack was more important than his feelings, his hopes, his dreams... or his father’s murder.

He put on some extra speed—probably too much to be using in public. They weren’t supposed to flaunt their wolfen nature in front of humans, given the danger of exposure, but this was life and death. Surely if the ancestors were watching, they would understand.

As he reached the crowd of people, a few of them turned toward him, shocked expressions on their faces, mouths agape and eyes wide. His speed wasn’t enough for that, and he hadn’t grown fur or claws, so the betas must be catching up, to elicit that kind of response.

Sure enough, the screech of brakes sounded right behind him, so close that he felt the rush of air against his back. He was surprised the fender didn’t take him out at the knee.

Two car doors opened and slammed behind him, too close for comfort. Fortunately, other people in the crowd had been spooked enough to run as well, so he didn’t stand out as the one guy running down the sidewalk.

Someone screamed about calling nine-one-one, but Sawyer didn’t hear anyone comply. Maybe he missed it, but over the last month, he’d become all too aware that when people were worried about their own happiness and safety, they were more than willing to allow others to suffer.

Plus something about diffusion of responsibility; everyone thought someone else would do it, so no one did.

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