Page 33 of Wolf
The first thing I do with my unused second burner phone is make a call to Grams at her brother’splace.
She answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
My eyes well up with tears I’ve been holding since this ordeal began. I can’t believe how much I needed to hear her voice. “Grams,” I greet her. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missedyou.”
She lets out her characteristic chuckle. “Love, I missed you too. How are you doing? Is it safenow?”
I shouldn’t be surprised. “You knew all along, didn’tyou?”
“Not right away. But the biggest clue was finding your mom’s family album at the bottom of mysuitcase.”
“You know I couldn’t leave it behind,” Iadmit.
“I’m glad you didn’t. So, how’s the house? Can we go back? My garden must be dying for some tendingto.”
“Hmmm. Hang on a second.” I cover the phone and nod over at Thorne. “Can Grams go back home?” I know the answer, but even now, I still want to hear that I can go back to my old life. He shakes hishead.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea right now,” I say, recalling the image of all that carnage and destruction we left behind. Though, I’m sure whoever sent those men to kill me must have cleaned up their injured anddead.
“How’s Great Uncle Charles?” I ask, changing thesubject.
“Not tired of me yet,” she says lightly. “He wants to know when he’ll seeyou.”
“Soon, I hope.” I notice some concern appear on Thorne’s face and follow his gaze, but don’t quite see what’s the cause for alarm. Still, to be safe, I end the call, promising Grams that I’d call her back in a day ortwo.
“Thorne?”
The late evening light hits his face at an angle that highlights his eyes and chiseled features hidden behind all that beard. Like the deep dimples that I’ve seen once or twice. He doesn’t smile much, but then again, neither do I. Today, he looks weary and worn out. Whatever he had to do to get to Murphy, it’s taken itstoll.
“Everything okay?” I askagain.
“I’m not sure. Grab the rest of your things.” He turns to pick up a bag beside the door and straightens up to full height, pulling the door open. “We should leave as soonas—”
“No, get down!” I shout, cutting him off when my eyes catch the red light of a laser sight pointed right between his sternum. But it’s toolate.
Bang!
“Thorne!” Iscream.
His body slams back into the cottage. His hand is on the gun at his side in an instant, but nothing can undo the damage that’s already been done. I drop to the floor beside him and use my feet to kick the doorclosed.
Bang! Bang!Bang!
The gunman fires off two or three more rounds between the gap before the door slams shut and my left shoulder spins on my body’s axis until I’m facing away from Thorne. I’ve been hit, but it feels like the wind’s been knocked out ofme.
“Stay down,” Thorne shouts. He rolls onto one side to support the gun’s weight in his injuredstate.
“You stay down. Don’t try to move,” I tell him. “You’ve beenshot.”
“We’ve both beenhit.”
“I thought it wasover!”
“Murphy’s dead,” he explains through labored breath. “He can’t call off any hits he might have ordered before that time. A contract’s acontract.”
“Jeez, will this everend?”
“Shh.” His breathing is slower with every word. “Let’s deal with this shooter, then we can talk about it. How badly are youhurt?”
