Page 54 of Howling
“I want you to stay hidden,” I say in a firm voice that brooks no argument, refusing to put him in danger. “I’ll message you when things are clear. The last thing either of us needs is to be exposed. I’ll handle the situation. I promise.”
Connor has already paid me back more than I ever expected. I refuse to allow my trouble to fuck up his new life.
“I’ll do it on one condition,” he says in a solemn voice, the hum of computers falling silent. “You’ll message me if you need help.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he speaks over me. “I want your word. You’ve saved a lot of people. You have more friends than you know. Let us help.”
My eyes burn at his sincerity. I’ve never truly had a friend before. Knowing someone has my back feels both comforting and worrisome. As the silence stretches, I know he won’t back down—he’s almost as stubborn as me—and I clear my throat. “Okay.”
My phone beeps, showing an incoming message with the requested information. “Good luck, bitch. Now, go kick some ass.”
The phone disconnects before I can reply, leaving me the center of attention of four different alphas, and from their expressions, there is no way I’m leaving this vehicle without telling them everything. I could knock them unconscious, then return for them once the job was finished. Not a big dea?—
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Garth snarls, snatching the phone back from me before I can tuck it away. “You can ditch us, but we know where you’re heading. We will track you down, no matter where you run. Let us help. The only way we’re going to survive is if we stick together.”
That’s what worries me—that none of us will get out of this alive.
My head throbs with the beginning of a headache, no doubt the first of many they will give me. With a tired sigh, I restart the car and try to ignore them. “I guess we’re going to Scottsville.”
May the gods save us.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TYLER
I exchange glances with Garth and Dante, wishing I could read their thoughts. Though maybe that’s not needed. Dante is wearing a fucking genuine smile. The rage and anger that normally cloud his menacing eyes are gone—no, not gone.
It has a focus now.
I expect Garth to put a stop to this nonsense, his need for control dominating every corner of his life, every minute of his day often planned down to the smallest detail. I wait for him to demand she explain her plan before we arrive in Scottsville. Instead, he sprawls back into the seat with a relaxed expression on his face, as if content to follow anywhere she leads.
Maybe I should be upset that she hijacked my life, but my fox is springing around in my chest like a demented pogo stick at the thought of an adventure, loving the pure chaos of charging into danger.
How do I know it’s dangerous?
Because trouble seems to follow Frankie wherever she goes. No doubt it’s part of the reason my fox is so fascinated with her.
Not that I blame her for the wolf fiasco.
No, that was a miscalculation on our part that would’ve happened eventually. She only accelerated our departure. We’re not rogues, but we don’t own our own territory either. While some shifters welcome others in their region, most frown when three alphas show up on their doorstep, especially when we’re so powerful.
Many won’t take the risk that we might challenge them. It doesn’t matter that we don’t want their pack or their territory. When dealing with shifters, the need to fight is part of our genetics. Our beasts need to know if our leader is strong and worthy of our loyalty.
I’m not mad Frankie exploded into my life, spreading chaos and danger with every breath—the opposite, in fact.
We were days away from being kicked out…or killed.
Not that the Goldcrest pack had the power to kill us. We would’ve survived the confrontation, we always do, but we wouldn’t have escaped without injury. A wounded shifter on the run is a dangerous combination. We have fled one territory after another, but it feels different today—like we’re runningtowardsomething instead ofaway.
When I can’t take the silence anymore, needing to untangle some of the mysteries surrounding Frankie, I drape my forearms along the back of the bench seat, rest my chin on my fists, and stare at Frankie. “Want to tell us your plan?”
I want to demand her life story and barely bite back the questions. It’s more than just curiosity. It’s pure fascination. She’s like no one else I’ve ever met. The air around her is charged, a sensation I feel right before my life irrevocably changes.
I ignore the guy in chains, not that I don’t think he’s a threat. It’s more like he’s in the same boat as us—willing to go anywhere, as long as she’s near. There is a pull toward her that is calming, like I’ve found where I’m supposed to be in my life,while simultaneously feeling like I’m teetering on the edge of a bottomless cliff.
I don’t like the way the fucker studies her, like he’s unsure if he wants to worship her or kill her. While I would rather open the door and shove him out, letting him fend for himself, I suspect he will turn up like a bad penny.
No, I would rather he be near, where I can keep an eye on him…and kill him, if needed. Not that I think it would be easy. I saw the bastard fight. He’s frightening, his sheer ferocity alone giving even Garth a run for his money. Even with the three of us working together, we would have a hard time taking him out.
