Page 55 of Wicked Dove
My blurred vision can’t fixate on anything, but I spy the outline of my target a few steps away.
Her or me.
She whimpers, or is it me?
The worry consuming me has me heaving a deep breath, bracing for impact from my father, but it doesn’t come. The moment of reprieve allows my gaze to settle, and I find the woman being held in position by two pack members, silently attempting to make this easier for me.
Who survives, her or me?
I choose her. But as I step backward, I feel the hard press of my father’s chest behind me.
“Now, Son,” he rasps, and I watch in dismay as his hands shift, claws protruding from his knuckles as he holds them to my face.
Desperation spreads through my limbs as the world darkens around me. It’s as though my mind shuts off and my body takes over. I feel nothing, I see nothing, I am nothing, until I’m struck with excruciating pain that runs through my bones.
Fur greets me when I dare to open my eyes, paws and all.
I shake out of the trance to find myself in the one place I’ve always felt safe.
Gulping, I lift my hand and rap my knuckles on the door. I don’t wait for a reply. I can’t. I need help now. Stepping into the office, the woman I’m looking for comes into view. Perched behind her desk, with her combat boots kicked up on the wood, she turns to me with a frown. Her features soften when she sees it’s me, but she quickly becomes more alert when she realizes I’m trembling.
“Calm down, what’s going on?” she asks softly, lowering her feet before standing. She’s around the desk in a heartbeat, cupping my chin with concern as I fail to take a deep breath.
“I need to find someone,” I mutter, and she frowns in confusion.
“Care to explain why?”
My gut twists. “No.”
“Is this pack related?” she asks, taking a step back to assess me, and I shake my head.
It’s never going to be a pack issue. We’re rogue for a reason. It gives us somewhere to belong without taking something from us, which we no longer have the capacity to provide.
“Who did you need to find?” she asks, and I bow my head a touch.
“Warren Blackwood.”
“Blackwood?” she repeats, and when I glance up through my lashes, I find her eyebrows furrowed. “Does this have something to do with the new girl?”
I knew she would connect the dots immediately, but I still need the help. “It doesn’t matter,” I mutter, and she reaches for my cheek again.
“I can see the trauma in your eyes, Ri, the guy who was bred to fight and obey. What’s going on?”
I shrug, trying to downplay it as best as I can, but she sees right through me as always. “It’s not my story to tell.”
“If she’s evoking this side of you, maybe it would be better to stay away from her,” she considers, running her thumb across my skin. She’s probably right, but it feels like the last thing I want. Inching closer, her hand falls from my cheek to land on my chest, the touch almost endearing until she starts to stroke down my t-shirt, running over my abs hidden beneath the fabric. “Do you need me to…”
“No,” I blurt, taking a step back. Not now, not with Elodie still on my fingers.
Disappointment twists across her features and I brace for her to insist, but to my surprise, she nods, stepping back too. “Okay, but I can’t let you head back like this. Let’s work it out of your system. Grab the weights,” she orders, nodding toward the gym door to my right.
I move without thinking, but turn back to her before I make it all the way.
“And you’ll search for him?” I clarify, needing it just as much as I need to burn off the steam.
Her smile is gentle, but the look in her eyes is slightly unhinged.
“You know I’m always here for you.”
