Page 102 of Captive of Outlaws

When he’s gone, I count slowly to ten.

Just like I used to with Uncle John.

Then, quick as a flash, I dart to the wall and pocket one of the key fobs.

And run.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

MY HANDS SHAKE A LITTLEas I slip down the stairs, out the back door, to the patio and beyond. Presumably there are cameras here, watching me, but I have to hope no one’s looking at the screens right now.

Because they’d catch me with tears streaming down my cheeks.

And that’s too fucking embarrassing to live through.

God, I hate this.

I hate that this is my life.

I hate that no one ever, ever, ever tells me the truth.

I hate that the one fucking time I thought things would be better, even good, there’s a catch.

But of course there’s a catch.

Of course it was all a lie.

Guys like that—rich, gorgeous—they don’t just agree to take in a girl like me. Guys aren’t just okay with, what, sharing a girl? Taking turns, and not getting jealous? That’s not a thing. That’s not real. It was always going to be some kind ofmindfuck. All of it—the friendship, the gifts, the sex...

Of course it was just too good to be true. Maybe it was residual guilt, maybe it was some fucked-up ego-driven power play, maybe it’s some sick need to torture every last person in the bloodline of the man they doomed to death by dealing to him.

But it wasn’t true. The trust was an illusion.

Finally, I’ve reached the path at the far end of the backyard, the one that leads down to the shooting range and, beyond it, the gate to where the Mustang is still waiting for me.

“Maren!”

The voice almost stops my heart dead. I whip around and see Rob, with Will and Tuck trailing, up on the balcony.

I don’t answer. Instead, I keep going.

“Maren!”

As I scramble down the path, I glance over my shoulder just in time to see Rob vault the balcony fence and leap into the air, his body twisting and transforming mid-fall so that he lands on four paws when he hits the ground. Behind him, a wolf steals across the flagstones to keep up, and a dragon’s wingspan surges open to propel forward.

I break into a sprint, my hair streaming out of its braids, tangling in my eyes, my lungs screaming for oxygen as my shoes slip and tumble over the damp grass of the shooting range. They’re gaining on me, I know they are, but still I pump my arms in the furious hope that I’ll make it.

Tuck’s the one to cut me off. His massive form slices in front of me in a storm of muscle and fur, his eyes gleaming as I skid to a halt. Panicked, I spin around to see the lithe form of the fox catch up, followed by the dragon sliding to land.

“Let me go,” I yell, to none of them and all of them. “I’mleaving.”

Rob’s form stirs and straightens, the fox transforming back into human. “Maren,” he says, panting, out of breath. “You need to stay. You need to—”

“I don’t need to doshit,” I shout back. They might be the animals, but I feel wild, untamed, dangerous. Instinct is taking over me, the powerful drive that comes from having nothing to lose and everything to gain. I’m just steps away from the equipment shed, where a crossbow lies lazily next to a few bolts, and beyond that, just a few steps further to the outside gate. “Now let me go.”

Something soft flings sideways at Rob, and Will, now in his human form too—clothes, I realize, thrown from somewhere inside the shed by Tuck.

“Justwait,Maren.” This from Will, crouching to pull on pants.

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