Page 19 of Wolf Cursed
I looked around, listening for someone else, but the apartment was quiet. Empty.
Wrapped in a towel, I picked up the clothes and examined them. One was a button-down shirt with the Twisted Throttle logo printed on the right breast. Underneath, Oscar’s name had been stitched. It would be big, but I could tie off the ends at my waist and make it work. Moving on, I studied the sports bras and leggings. They were my size, I realized with surprise. Somehow, I couldn’t picture Oscar shopping for clothes in my section. Especially sports bras.
Not that I was complaining.
I got dressed and ran a comb through my hair. My face was still a hot mess, but the rest of me looked almost human again. It would have to do. I couldn’t sit in this apartment alone for another day. Not when my thoughts kept drifting back to my dad.
Now that the funeral was over, all I could think about were monsters. The one he’d become and the ones supposedly hunting us. I’d lived with his fears for so long they’d become commonplace. I’d dismissed them and learned to live with his paranoia like one would live with OCD. But now, I knew there had to be more to it.
The questions my mind made up continued to torture me. So, rather than drive myself crazy, I headed downstairs. Even another run-in with Kai would be better than sitting alone with my thoughts.
But Kai was nowhere to be seen in the front office. In fact, despite the “Open” sign lit up in the window, the place was empty.
I peered through the side door that led to the garage and saw Oscar perched on a stool beside a large motorcycle decked in chrome.
Beyond him, there was one other guy farther back. He was bent over the hood of a car. My car.
I opened the door and stepped into the garage. The scent of grease and oil hit me. I found it weirdly pleasant. Oscar looked up as I walked over.
“Morning,” I said.
“I didn’t think those bruises could get any worse,” he said, studying my face.
I lifted my fingers to my cheek but then thought better of it. “They look worse than they feel,” I said.
“Good thing.” He snorted.
“How’s it going with my car?” I asked.
He looked over at it and then pushed to his feet. “Let’s go find out.”
I followed him over.
“Drake,” Oscar called out.
The guy bending over the hood straightened and turned, giving Oscar a nod. When he saw me, his perusal became more thorough. As did mine. He was a little older than me but not by much. Good-looking too. His brown eyes were sharp, assessing. His gaze lingered on the bruises I wore, and his expression turned guarded.
“This must be the niece,” he said to Oscar, somehow ignoring me despite looking right at me.
I rolled my eyes. And just like that, my interest in him dried up.
“Ash,” Oscar supplied. “What’s the verdict?” he asked, gesturing to the car.
“She’s DOA, in my opinion.”
“What’s DOA?” I asked.
He pretended I hadn’t spoken. It was Oscar who answered.
“Dead on arrival.” He grimaced. “That bad, huh?”
“From the looks of it, the thing should have been junked a long time ago,” Drake said. “It’s not worth the rust it’s covered in. I vote we sell it for scrap metal and be done with it.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” I said.
The guy arched a brow but otherwise didn’t respond.
Oscar turned to me. “Drake’s right. It would cost more to fix than the damn thing is worth. You’re better off junking it and starting fresh.”
