Page 22 of The Weakest Wolf

Thank God.

I get up and spend the next several minutes dragging Leo’s body deeper into the Wyoming forest, where any passing bear or mountain lion can find an easy dinner.

Dragging a dead body isn’t easy, especially when you’ve already exhausted most of your strength, but I manage it, then I go looking for my shirt. As I do, one thought bounces around in my head.

If it took that much effort to kill Leo, how am I going to kill Bowen?

With my shirt in my hand, I’m turning to leave when a silver glint catches my eye. Frowning, I cross over to it.

My necklace.

I bend to grab it, which is when I spot the reason it’s on the ground and not on my neck.

“Shit,” I mutter as I examine the broken chain.

But at least you found it. That’s the important thing.

With little to do but stuff the broken chain in my pocket, I hurry back to my cabin.

* * *

With my head lowered, I press my forehead and my palms flat against the shower wall as lukewarm water streams over me.

The scent of blood—both Leo’s and mine—has long since disappeared down the drain.

I have to go to the farmhouse before Galen comes looking for me.

Yet I don’t turn off the water.

I’m so tired.

When I got back to my cabin, I had seconds to shove my broken necklace under the mattress, yank the clothes off my body, and rush into the shower before the tears started.

There’s only one place where it’s safe enough to show weakness.

Nowhere else.

I only ever let myself do this when I've crossed another name off my list, a list that now numbers one.

I stay like this for a long time. Longer than I know I should.

A soft click makes me lift my head. My cabin door. I thought Galen might come looking for me, and I’d guessed right.

“Galen,” I call out.

Silence.

Hoping my eyes aren’t still red, I flick the water off, grab a towel and wrap it around myself before I head out. “If you give me a minute, I’ll dress and make you your din—”

I don’t make it to the bathroom door because someone kicks it open.

I fly back and crash into the wall, bouncing off it before I fall. Before I can get to my feet, someone tosses a sheet over my head, blinding me.

That’s when the laughter starts.

The pack. I should’ve known it was them.

I struggle to free myself from the material, but with more hands than I can fight gripping me, and too small a space to use my legs to kick out, I don’t stand a chance.

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