Page 107 of Alpha's Redemption

He climbs off the bed before pulling a key from his pocket and bending down, undoing the chain attached to the foot of the bed. How did I not notice that before? Now that I’ve seen it, the weight of it is all I can feel.

Carter grips the chain before pointing at the door. I look at it as he steps behind me.

“I'll take you,” he whispers.

“That is unnecessary,” I tell him.

“The feeling through the bond tells me it is,” he whispers before giving me a nudge, and I clench my teeth but move toward the door.

“It is an adjustment; one you will get used to. One thing about rogues is we adapt,” he says as I grip the door. Ain't that the truth, but I won't be getting accustomed to this place.

Stepping outside, I’m smashed by the harsh coldness of the wind. I rub my arms before spotting the small outhouse. I didn't really need to use the bathroom, or whatever the heck that ice age contraption is, but the moment the wind touches me, I suddenly need to pee.

The steps creak as I step off the tiny porch, and I can see nothing but darkness and trees, showing how utterly alone I truly am out here. The grass is wet from dew; I wonder what time it is. Kalen will come for me. I know he won't abandon me out here, or he’ll alert Everly and Valen. They’ll be wondering where I am by now. They have to be.

“Ava?” I ask.

“I left her at the train station. I haven't heard any reports on what happened to her. My plans didn't go as expected in the city and my men were arrested,” Carter tells me with a growl as I make my way to the outhouse.

The door creaks as I open it and I frown. I would rather piss in the woods or ruin my panties; it seems more hygienic than this shit box—quite literally a box or trough to shit in.

“Door stays open,” Carter says, gripping the swinging door before it can shut.

“Where exactly do you expect me to go when you’re holding the chain you shackled me with?” I ask, trying to keep the anger from my tone. He huffs and clicks his tongue.

“Good point,” he says, letting the door swing closed. I’m plunged into darkness.

I roll my eyes before letting out a breath and pushing the door open again; I sure as shit don't want to fall into the damn thing, and there’s no light in here.

Carter gives me a crooked smile.

“There’s no light,” I tell him, and he holds the door open.

“Yeah, I never rigged the solar panels on that thing. I hardly stayed out here long enough to warrant using it,” he tells me as I notice the solar panels on the cabin. We appear to be on some huge mountain, and the wind up here whistles and howls between the trees.

“Don't fall in. The only bath you'll find here is the stream,” he laughs, and I look down at the makeshift toilet.

“Can you at least turn away?” I ask him, and he does, keeping one hand on the door, the chain in the other.

I squat over the damn thing and quickly pee, not wanting to touch it in case my ass develops ringworm or I get Tetanus.

“Are you done?” he asks when I pull my panties up. “Or do you want to suss out the woods a little, so you know you can't escape?”

“I'll take your word for it,” I tell him as I step out, letting the door swing shut.

I follow him back to the cabin, wondering how far out of the city we are; I can’t even see any lights, and I briefly wonder if Kalen and John's tracker I swallowed has a maximum distance.

Stepping inside the cabin, the air is a little warmer thanks to the fireplace. Carter moves toward the bed and locks the chain around the foot of it again. I sit on the edge, watching as he undresses, removing his shirt and moving toward the small kitchenette in only his jeans.

“Are you hungry?” he asks and I nod, keeping an eye on him while looking around the small space. A round table sits off to the side with some stumps for chairs.

A bearskin rug is sprawled on the floor beside the fireplace, and above it is a set of huge antlers. It reminds me a little of a hunter's cabin. There are even a few taxidermy pieces. One is an owl.

“You hunt?” I ask him, wondering if there are any guns kept here. He shrugs, not bothering to answer as he grabs a steel camping kettle and fills it with bottled water from a box on the floor, then sets it on a hook inside the fireplace.

“How did we get here? I didn't see your car or the road,” I ask him.

“I carried you. I had this place set up already. I was never staying in the city,” he tells me.

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