Page 34 of Dark Wolf Soul
“Hey,” I say softly.
Her eyes widen at the sight of me, but she holds her ground as she returns, “Hey,” in a small voice.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
I exhale. “Who did this to you?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer, but her eyes dart over my shoulder. I turn and follow the direction of her glance. Nearly obscured by shadows, I spot another figure in the far corner of the room.
Blinking through the grainy half-light, I see that an older man sits on the dirty concrete, his head hanging, his long hair obscuring his face. Blood and saliva drip from his mouth. I hadn’t even noticed him at first with the way he’s hunched over and out of the reach of the lamp’s light.
“He did this?” I ask the girl.
“Yes,” she whispers.
At her reply, the man raises his head and looks up at us through swollen, bruised lids. His lip curls at the sight of Grey, but then his eyes land on me, and something sparks.
“Well, what do we have here?” The words are muffled by what sounds like a swollen lip. “Royalty has arrived. Now it’s a party.”
“It’s your fucking funeral, Trucker.” Grey’s voice is colder than I’ve ever heard. Beside me, the girl flinches. I step closer to her and whisper, “It’s going to be all right,” despite the fact that I’m just as fucked as she is. I haven’t been roughed up, but I’m still a prisoner here.
She doesn’t know that, though, and right now, I want only to make her feel safe. My chest pangs at how much she reminds me of one of the shelter teens—and how I might never see any of them again.
“Did she give her statement?” Grey asks, bringing me back to the present nightmare.
“She did,” his friend confirms. The lanky one who walked us in here glances over at me as he says it. Our eyes meet, and I see curiosity reflected back at me. But not confusion. He clearly knows who I am. In fact, I get the sense that everyone in this room knows more about me than I do—except the girl.
Cautiously, I slide my hand into hers. She wraps her cold fingers around mine instantly, and I feel a rush of protection toward her.
“That girl doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Trucker says, eyes narrowing as Grey and his friends discuss what to do about the girl.
“What’s your name?” I whisper.
“Claire.”
I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m Lexi. It’s going to be okay.”
“You’re Lexi?” She stares at me with shock and a definite layer of fear that wasn’t there a moment ago.
I stiffen.
Across the room, the injured man, Trucker, snorts. “The princess has returned.” When I look over at him, he’s staring right at me. “Bet you didn’t expect such a warm welcome.” His wink ruffles me more than I want to admit.
“What are we doing here?” I snap at Grey. “He clearly attacked her. She shouldn’t have to be subjected to standing in the same room as him for another second.”
Grey turns back to the old man. “You got what you wanted. Now, say what you have to say so judgment can be delivered.”
“Not until she comes closer,” he says, “I need to look into her eyes and know that it’s her.”
I hesitate, but Grey, looking pissed enough to murder, waves me forward. I let go of Claire’s hand and reluctantly step forward until I’m standing beside Grey.
“That’s far enough,” he says, his warm shoulder brushing mine.
It’s comforting, knowing he’s right here with me, which is beyond stupid. The enemy of my enemy does not make him my friend.
“What am I—” I begin, but Grey cuts me off.
