Page 38 of To Keep A Wolf
An hour later, we’ve left all semblance of civilization behind. My fingers tap impatiently against the windowsill until Levi grunts at me.
I stop and, instead, rock my knees together, not even trying to appear calm anymore.
Levi only shakes his head at me.
Finally, we wind around a sharp bend, and the landscape opens to the crest of a hill. Long grass blows in a soft wind, mostly wheat-colored weeds where the cooler temperatures of higher elevation and the coming fall have already sucked the life out of the ground. In the center, where the driveway ends, stands a small house.
It’s a mash-up of stone and wood. Rustic. Inviting, actually. I’m surprised at how sturdy it looks despite the eclectic use of materials. Smoke wafts lazily from a single chimney, and behind it, thick woods rise up before sloping down the hill and giving way to a view that steals my breath even from here.
“Wow, you can see for miles,” I say.
Neither of the guys responds, and it takes me a moment to tear my gaze from the gorgeous view of the Blue Ridge.
When I do, I brace myself for whatever it is they’ve kept from me.
Then I realize.
The smoke.
Someone’s home in that house.
“What is this place?” I ask as Levi pulls the van up out front and cuts the engine.
He exchanges a glance with Tripp then says, “Come on.”
I get out when he does, cutting him off at the hood before he can head for the front door. “Who’s in there?” I demand in a low voice.
“An ally,” he says.
“Why are you refusing to tell me—”
“Mac, just trust us,” Tripp says, coming up behind me.
He keeps a safe distance, though. He knows me well.
I look between them, growing more uneasy by the second.
“Levi,” I begin, but he takes my hand in his and squeezes.
“It’s all going to be okay,” he says. “Don’t be mad.”
“Why would I be mad?”
Before he can answer, the cabin door opens, and a man steps out. He looks the three of us over with the same confusion I feel, but when his eyes land on me, he stills.
His scrunched shoulders fall, and his tight expression drops its guard.
“Mac?”
He takes a step forward then another.
I don’t move.
I can’t.
His beard is unexpected, but the rest of him—the eyes that seem older and sharper than his years… I’ve stared at his picture so long; I’d know him anywhere.
Not that I ever expected to see him again.
