Page 52 of To Hunt A Wolf
Like I’m the bad guy here.
“I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” I say lightly then narrow my eyes as I add, “I must have left them behind when you abducted me from the side of the road.”
One of the men growls. “You don’t want to eat,” he says. “Fine.”
Instead of coming to kick my ass, he motions to his friends, and they all three walk out again. The door shuts. The lock clicks. And I’m once again alone.
This time with drug-laced lasagna all over the floor. Still, it’s better than having it inside me.
I tell myself I won. Or this round at least. But the longer I sit alone in this room, the less I believe it. My hands and feet have long since gone numb yet somehow still ache. Other than that and the fact that I have to pee so badly I might not make it to a bathroom, the only torture happening now is self-inflicted. Over and over, I replay every moment since the one where Levi left me in that warehouse with a dead alpha.
The fact is that I never actually saw him commit that crime. And if I’d been a little less hung up on how hot he is and what a sucker I apparently am for rejection and abandonment, I might have gotten out of there in time too.
Instead, Thiago found me—and used me.
He never cared about justice for Crigger. He cares only for holding onto the power he finally has. Kari’s the real victim in all this. Not me.
And I can either keep finding reasons to pick a fight with Levi. Or I can find a way to free her. But first, I have to free myself.
ChapterTwelve
Idrift off, pulled under by exhaustion despite the discomfort of my position. No one returns. Not with food or even water. At first, it feels like a mind game. To show me who’s boss. To make me compliant. But then I begin to wonder if they’ve forgotten about me altogether. Time feels unmeasurable in the dark silence. But I suspect at least a day goes by. Maybe two. My wolf begins to push back at being confined so long, but I don’t shift. To do so would use the last of my strength, and I can’t be sure the bindings on my wrists and ankles would actually break. They haven’t yet despite my attempts. If they don’t give during my shift, my legs will break, and that will be that.
Finally, the door opens, and Levi walks in.
Despite my exhaustion, my body reacts. A magnet being pulled to its opposite pole. Even dehydrated, starving, and numb, I can’t help wanting him. It’s science, not sentiment.
Or that’s what I tell myself.
Words feel heavy. The idea of trading barbs is an energy I can’t afford at this point. So I remain silent as he strides toward me.
Bracing for whatever abuse he wants to fling at me this time, I am in no way prepared for when he kneels, looks right into my eyes, and says, “I’m sorry.”
What?
He produces a knife, and I flinch. He stops, gesturing to the ties that are now embedded against my wrists where they’ve cut through layers of skin. He brings the knife up and uses it to slice through my bindings. First, my wrists, then my ankles.
I’m too shocked at his apology and suddenly being freed to even use that freedom to fight him. Besides, my limbs are jelly, my circulation nonexistent. The moment I put weight on my feet and attempt to stand, my knees buckle, and I topple forward.
“Whoa.” Levi catches me, his strong arms pushing me upright again. “Go slow,” he says.
I stare at him in confusion, very aware of where his hands are still gripping my arms—and how nice it feels.
“I went through this in training. I remember how long it took to get proper feeling back into my legs.”
“Huh?”
“You look confused,” he says uncertainly. “I just meant… I know how you feel because of the training exercises I’ve done with the team…”
That’s not why I’m confused. But I don’t bother to contradict him.
Instead, I use the brain power I have left to confirm the suspicions that have been nagging me for days.
“Where are we?” I ask.
He hesitates. “In the mountains.”
Something tells me this place matters.
