Page 140 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
Through our connection, I tried to project every ounce of terror coursing through me—the gut-wrenching, desperate fear that something had happened to him. If he could feel even a fraction of what I was experiencing, hopefully that would help.
The thought of losing him now, even though I’d only just begun to understand what this thing between us could become—it threatened to tear me apart from the inside.
No. I couldn’t think it.
All I could do was pray that somehow, wherever he was, Rory would hear me and know that I needed him to come back to me.
22
Rory
Smoke. Bitter. Sharp in nose.
Hide behind twisted metal. Crouch low. Breathe shallow.
Two-legs emerge. Female clutches hot-liquid scent. Male rolls tobacco between fingers.
Listen. Important.
“Christ, I’m already knackered,” female says. Voice tired. Defeated. “Tomorrow night’s going to be a nightmare.”
“Tell me about it.” Male has plant-smoke. Inhale. Exhale. Poison-sweet drifts on wind. “How many new arrivals are we expecting?”
“Could be as many as ten, I hear. Depends on how the extraction goes.”
“Overtime again, then.”
“Triple shift, more like. I haven’t seen my kids in days.”
“But ten? Do we even have space for them?”
“Two kicked the bucket last week. Plus, there’s a few empty rooms nobody’s set up yet.”
Wind shifts.
Death.
The scent hits like claw across muzzle. Old death. Recent death. Fills nose. Fills lungs. Choking on it.
Stolen wolves. Dead wolves. Wrong-wrong-wrong.
Terror floods veins. Need safety. Need—
Raindrops-lemongrass-mine.
Panic burns through chest. Must return. Must run. Now-now-now.
Door slams. Two-legs gone inside. Building swallows them.
Run. Fast-fast-fast through scrub. Paws strike earth. Heart hammers against ribs.
Raindrops-lemongrass-mine waits where left him. Crouched. Tense. Binoculars shake in hands.
Relief floods everything. Safe. Here. Together.
“Rory! I told you not to go close to the buildings!”
Raindrops-lemongrass-mine angry. Don’t like. I fix.
