Page 11 of Under Dark Skies

Layla closed her eyes and tried to breathe. Rafe looked back over to the opening of the alleyway. He hoped that the wolves and PEACE would run into one another, which would give him time to get to this hideout in the West end.

But there was something in the wind he thought he had caught. That unmistakable human odor, with a distinct wolf-like essence. You either smelled like one or the other—only wolves knew how to even remotely cover their own scent.

But these wolves weren’t even trying. Rafe’s heart had just calmed to a steady pump, but returned to a pounding rhythm when what he was sensing had come to fruition.

He shot his head back at Layla. “Listen to me, Layla.”

Her eyes widened, noting his change in tone.

“You have to get on my back again, and I have to start jumping on the roofs. It’s the only way we can get to the hideout.”

She started breathing rapidly again. “You-have—to—to—what?”

Rafe could feel them approaching. For some reason, both wolves and PEACE agents were joining forces to bring them down. This was beyond any corruption he would have imagined.

“You have to hold on tight. Both PEACE agents and the wolves are coming for us. I can only outrun the wolves on the roof.”

“Okay.” Layla breathed in hard, put her hand on her chest, then climbed on top of Rafe. Without another word he scurried up the wall like a giant spider, leaping in large strides onto the roof of the deli. He caught the whiff of the wolves he hadn’t killed jetting down the alley just as he reached the top.

“JESUS CHRIST!” Layla yelled into his ear. He cringed, the sound more piercing to his wolf ears than the average humans. He began galloping on all fours, sensing the wet scent of Lycan behind him. There wasn’t much he could two about two if he had Layla to worry about as well.

Once he was a few feet from the edge of the building, he launched himself across it over to the next, seeming to move in silent slow motion like a graceful dancer. But when he landed it was rough on his knuckles, and he knew he’d had to deal with that later.

Only a few more buildings than he was at the hideout. He feared that the Lycans were gaining on him, so he picked up speed. Cars screeched on the road below. He supposed those were the PEACE agents, following along.

He leapt again. Another rough landing onto cold unforgiving concrete. Layla held on tight. “Just one more to go. Hold on.” He yelled as the zipped through the skyline. He used his knees to rocket himself over to the building where he needed to be, passing by the moon like some twisted fairytale.

He almost tumbled when they landed, but broke the fall with his forearms. Rafe wasted no time in picking Layla up with his arms, then moving through a rooftop doorway.

He closed the door behind them, then ran down a dark hallway. He could sense the wolves getting to the door, but he has to get through the passage before they could kick it down. Without stopping, Rafe kicked what looked like a plainly painted wall. Instead, it was a doorway that opened sideways into an elevator.

“What the fuck?” Layla asked as Rafe closed the door, bolted it shut, then started cranking the elevator down manually. It moved sideways at one point, bringing them to an apartment below and to the left.

Rafe fell to the floor, wheezing and clutching his right hand.

Eleven

Layla

Layla had stepped off of the elevator into what looked like a bomb shelter. All of the walls were painted an army green, and zero stylistic integrity showed its face. Everything about it was practical. She glanced up again in the elevator, and looked down at Rafe.

Rafe was holding his knuckles. They were bleeding like bright streaks of Christmas lights, on top of what looked like honey ham for Christmas dinner. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She looked down at herself—her favourite skirt and blouse, torn and sweat-drenched.

What the fuck had her sister thrown her into? A secret war that was no longer secret between the shifters and humans? Why did that have anything to do with her?

“Are you ok?” Rafe asked her, panting in the corner. She looked at him and realized that his face was almost bleeding. The lines were thin, like a razor blades had lightly touched their tip. She could barely take in his injuries because she could barely take in what as happening to her.

A panic attack was rising in his chest. It made the room feel smaller, so she moved out of the elevator and slightly down the hallway. There were two rooms but no windows. Everything was bland and bleak.

“No. This can’t be happening.” She wrapped her hands around her head, leaned against the wall, then slowly slid down it, hitting the floor with a light bump. She was breathing rapidly, her chest was hurting. She had had a panic attack before, but never one that made her so angry.

“WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK!” Layla screamed into oblivion. “First she had to fucking run off and now I HAVE TO FUCKING RUN OFF! WHY DOES THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN TO ME!”

Her words scratched her throat like a sharp rock. She wanted to scream into the void, but her chest hurt too much, and tears were forming around her eyelids. She squinted her eyes shut to prevent them from falling, but to not avail.

Her face contorted into an intense cry. She cried so hard that she thought her chest was going to cave in. Her stomach muscles heaved with her, and she muttered obscenities into the arm of her blouse.

“Why did she do this to me? Why?”

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