Page 129 of The Forsaken Heir
The guy blinked in surprise. “Yeah.”
I shook my head in wonder. “How the hell does a human get caught up in this?”
“My family has served the Laurents for centuries,” he explained. “I had an ancestor who found out what the Laurents were, and rather than killing him, they brought him into their householdand trained him as a healer. We’ve been in their service ever since. They’ve always been good to us, but I can’t abide what I’ve seen lately. Bastien Laurent and his parents aren’t like the old generations. At least not from what I’ve heard. It’s time to fix this.” He extended his hand. “Julian.”
“Aurelius. Nice to meet you.”
“Nicolas,” the other healer said as he also shook my hand.
“Nice to meet you as well, Nicolas. I guess we should get out of here?” I said, zipping up the uniform.
“Let’s do this.” Freddy led us to a shed that housed two SUVs with the Laurent Waste Management logo on the side.
I climbed into the passenger seat as Nicholas and Julian hopped in the other car. As we drove out of the shed, I had a strange sense of foreboding. All this had gone seamlessly. Not a single bump in the road. It was honestly hard to believe we were really this close to getting away with it. Could Freddy really have planned for every eventuality?
My answer came three minutes later, as we exited the gate, and our headlights swept toward the road.
“Oh shit,” Freddy cursed.
Two unmarked vans raced up the road toward us, headlights on high, shimmering brightly against the night.
“Is this part of the plan?” I asked, glancing at Freddy. He’d gone pale, and his eyes narrowed as he slowed the car.
“No.” It was a single uttered syllable, but it carried enough weight to fill me with dread.
The first van swung around, blocking the road, and the second pulled up alongside our own car, essentially pinning us in with the forest to the right. The passenger door of the first van opened, and a large man wearing the black uniform of the Laurent security forces got out. The first thing I spotted was the small submachine gun hung from his shoulder. Most shifters didn’t carry guns because they relied on their shifted forms for most battles. This guy wasn’t taking any chances.
The second thing I noticed were the guy’s sunglasses. Dark black aviators with chrome arms. Seriously? This fucker wasactuallywearing sunglasses at night? I already hated him.
Freddy snatched the hat off his head and shoved it into my hands.
“Put that on. Fast,” He hissed, and then rolled the window down.
“Good evening, fellas,” the sunglass-wearing oaf said. “Name’s Carlisle Bouchard. Can I ask why you all are out here on a service road this late at night?”
“I didn’t know I needed permission,” Freddy said, and leaned his head out the window to show the man who he was.
A pit opened in my stomach when the guy tilted his sunglasses up, clocked Freddy, then smirked and put the glasses back down.
“Mr. Laurent. Good to see you. Though, I still have to ask why you’re out here past midnight.” His head bobbed up and down as he scanned the coveralls Freddy wore. “And dressed like a garbage man no less.”
The doors of the other vans opened slowly. Over a dozen men climbed out, almost lazily, like spiders emerging from their silken hovels to feast on an unsuspecting fly that was caught intheir web. I swallowed hard, and my inner dragon gave a worried snarl.
“Well…uh…I wanted to see what it was like,” Freddy said lamely. “To know what the people who work for my family do each day.”
Carlisle smirked. “Slummin’ it, are we?”
“Umm…sure, yeah. That’s it,” Freddy said.
From the corner of my eye, I could see a rivulet of sweat inching down Freddy’s cheek.
“Uh, huh,” the guy said, sounding less than convinced.
The guy then leaned down, resting an elbow on the open window, a universal douchebag pose.
“Boy, do you know who I am?” Carlisle asked.
Anger flashed in Freddy’s eyes. “I don’t give a shitwhoyou are. I’m Frederique Laurent. You work forme. Can you please move your car out of the way and let me and my companions in the other car continue our business?”
