Page 37 of Alpha Rising (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

12

SARAH

Iwoke up in the backseat of a car. I knew this because of the high-speed rhythm of tires rolling over a potholed road, as well as the sweaty feel of the leather seat under my cheek.

There was a metal water bottle on the floor behind the driver’s seat and every time the driver braked, the bottle would roll underneath, only to reappear when he stepped on the gas.

I was unable to move my body—something that scared the shit out of me—so in my panic I focused on that bottle and its moon-lit logo of a woman, a pair of dice, and the wordsLady Luck, rolling in and out of focus.

I hoped it was an omen. I desperately needed a little luck. Because if my assumption was right and these were DaBruzzi’s henchmen, I was in for a long drive back to Chicago.

“Where are we going?” I asked, my wooziness slowly fading.

Neither of them answered, making me wonder if I’d spoken out loud, or only thought the question in my head.

I ran my tongue back and forth behind my teeth. My mouth, at least, seemed to be working, so I tried again, this time louder. “Where are you taking me?”

The guy in the passenger seat looked over his shoulder. I couldn’t see his face clearly, except for the wide space between his two front teeth when he drawled, “She’s awake.”

My hands and feet tingled with pins and needles. Whatever they’d used to knock me out, it wouldn’t cause lasting damage, but I’d been imagining a moment like this for too long to feel any true relief.

If they hadn’t killed me outright, it was only because they had orders not to. These men planned to prolong my punishment. Or maybe DaBruzzi wanted to inflict it himself.

A minute or two later, I had enough strength to push myself into a seated position behind the driver.

Outside my window, the sky was deep navy and flecked with stars. We were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by pine trees. I hoped that meant we were still on Minnesota’s north shore. Maybe I hadn’t been unconscious for long. Maybe we hadn’t traveled too far.

I wondered when Reese would notice I hadn’t returned to the party. Maybe he’d already realized something was wrong. Maybe he was calling the police. But what would he tell them? The lodge didn’t have security cameras.

“Your name’s Sarah, right?” the passenger asked. It seemed like a detail he should have confirmed before he knocked me out, and a thick coat of tears blurred my vision.

How was I going to get out of this nightmare? I could barely walk in this tight dress and high heels. If there was going to be an opportunity for escape, I’d need to run.

We'd traveled another five minutes when the trees began to grow thin, then thinner still. Eventually, the driver decreased his speed and we rolled into a town.

Though small, it was bigger than Evergreen with some actual traffic, a chain drug store, and brightly lit gas stations whose names I recognized. Street lamps cut through the darkness, as did an actual traffic light.

The driver stopped when it turned red, and my brain spun with possibilities. Outside my window was a liquor store with a large window. I could see an older man behind the counter, and I prayed he was still open.

I tried my door lock and was surprised to find that it moved when I applied pressure. I glanced at my kidnappers. The driver was looking down, screwing with the radio. The passenger was texting someone on his phone.

This was it. If I had a chance to escape, this could be my only opportunity and though I was terrified, I wasn’t going to waste it.

I closed my eyes and curled my fingers into the door handle. Then, taking a deep breath, I pushed it open and took off like a bat out of hell.

One of the guys yelled something, but my focus was on my feet because the first thing I realized when they hit the pavement was that my muscle control hadn’t returned as much as I thought it had.

My legs wobbled bonelessly, and my high heels only made the situation worse. I prayed that—should they have actual guns—my staggering, zig-zag of a dash across the street would make me a difficult target.

I went down in front of a pickup truck, and the driver laid on the horn while slamming on his brakes.

I left some skin from my palms on the pavement, but the pain didn’t register. I was already up and running for the liquor store.

Feet pounded against the pavement behind me. More cars honked, but I didn’t look back. I swung open the door, and a tinkling bell rang out announcing my arrival.

The older gentleman behind the counter looked up, and his eyes went wide at the sight of me—a terrified woman in a black sheath dress with her legs buckling underneath her.

“Are you all right, miss?”

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