Page 2 of Forsaken Devotion: Part 2
An endless road. All I could see ahead through the swaying border of trees was pure darkness.
“Where are we going?” I whispered, but with only the soft plop of the rain against the windshield, it sounded loud. We hadn’t left our last pack on the best terms; the Alpha had said to never set foot on his territory again. He’d always been an emotion-riddled old shifter, so it was no loss. But I never realized how comforting it was to have a direction.
“We’ll keep driving until we find a motel for the night,” Dad murmured gruffly. He never let me down.
My lips trembled, tears of love trickling free. He’d always taken care of me after Mom died, even when he didn’t want to live.
I knew his pain at no longer having his mate, but he tried his best for me.
The tension stiffening my shoulders incrementally relaxed, and I leaned back into the seat.
Everything was going to be okay?—
The car rocked with a loud bang. My head flung forward, and pain surged through the column of my neck and where the seat belt compressed my chest. Dad righted the car, his lips stiffening into a thin line.
Headlights flicked on and off behind us, spilling into the car. It was too close! The clamor of the engine drowned out even the rain.
“What’s happening?” My voice trembled. Rails framed the road a few yards ahead.
“Are you buckled in?” Dad asked. His eyes were wide, and he kept clenching and unclenching the steering wheel. I could tell he was trying to shove down his fear.
“Yeah,” I croaked.
Dad locked in on the road with focus, slamming down on the accelerator. Desperately, I turned my head to look behind us. It was a huge truck, and the light beams speared directly into my eyes. I squinted, trying to see who it was, but couldn’t make anything out through the brilliant LED lights.
The loud truck burst forward noisily.
“It’s coming!”
Dad cursed, but it was too late; the truck roared so, so close. It bumped the back of the car, and that was it.
The back tires gave out, and our vehicle fishtailed. I clutched the handle above the door. As I screamed, the blur of the rotating trees flashed across my vision. Dad was suddenly leaning over me, his body shielding mine.
The car tipped sideways and collided with a guard rail. As everything went still, a hiss exploded from the engine. Eerie, long, and frightening. Sharp stabs of pain traveled down my neck, the dull pulsing worsening with each of my breaths.
“Papá?”
He didn’t move. His weight was heavy on top of me. “Papá?” I gripped his arm and shook, making his head flop to the side. It bent at an awful angle.
I screamed again, and my hand shook while I unbuckled my seatbelt and then searched for the door handle.
“You’re going to be fine,” I croaked. Finally, I managed to wiggle my fingers into the latch and the door popped open. We were at a slight angle, so we both slipped out of the car, landing on the hard forest ground.
“Papá?” I rolled onto my knees, crawling to his still form, lying on his side. His foot was still half in the vehicle. The position looked nothing close to normal. Once I made it to him, I carefully lay him on his back. His head remained turned the other direction. The headlight beams offered me a clear view.
“Papá . . .” I choked out a cry, lifting a trembling hand beneath his nose.
Please, let me feel him breathing.
A deep, body shaking cry clogged in my throat. I knew the truth. For as long as I left my hand under his nose, there would never be any air puffing against my finger.
Whines spilled from my lips. I didn’t know what to do or think or?—
Sudden pain struck the back of my head. I flew forward with a cry, falling on top of Dad. Everything spun, and I couldn’t get my arms to work.
“I didn’t hit her hard enough.” The voice was deep and observant. “My poor truck.”
Sagging onto my back, I faced the blurred sky. With the moon overhead, all I could see was the outline of a male figure. I groaned, trying to move, but my body had disconnected from my mind. Pain throbbed with each beat of my heart. It took extra effort to focus through the high-pitched ringing. The headlights outlined a medium-sized man.
