11

When I received my first paycheck, I’d go clothes shopping.
Trying not to dwell on my misfortune, I glanced in the mirror. The fact that it didn’t shatter astounded me. My hair was one huge rat’s nest. I had bloodshot eyes and dark circles underneath.
The hair was my own fault. I’d taken a shower and fallen into bed without drying it. Now I had to get to work on myself to come off somewhat presentable.
A FEW MINUTES LATER, Killian knocked on my door. “Dove?” That was the second time he’d called me that. What the hell?
I took one last look in the mirror, relieved that I looked nearly normal after working the knots from my hair. Inhaling sharply, I opened the door and found Killian leaning against the wall in front of me.
“Why do you keep calling me Dove?”
“You never told me your name, so I improvised.” He gestured to my hair. “And your hair is gray, reminding me of dove feathers. I bet it’s hard to keep that color up.”
My name was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t let it fall. And the fact that he thought my hair was dyed made things easier on my end. I’d never had a nickname before, and it was safer for both of us if he didn’t know my real one. “That works.”
“You like it?” He smiled. “It’s unique, like you. You’ve already become Dove in my head, so even
if you told me your real name, you’d be stuck with it.”
In my pack, everyone had treated me as their leader, even though I hadn’t yet taken the position. The only one who’d treated me like a regular person had been Zoe, but she never went so far as to give me a pet name.
The image of my lifeless best friend filled my mind-her gorgeous espresso hair disheveled and blood pooling from her mouth. What I’d do to be able to save her. To hear her give me shit once again.
“Hey,” Killian rasped. “Are you with me?”
“Uh… yeah.” That was such a strange question. “I’m right in front of you.”
“I meant mentally.” He booped my nose. “You seemed far away.”
That wasn’t good. I needed to at least give the illusion I was present. By not being alert, I was already failing at being a good protector. “Yeah, ready to go.”
“Then your chariot awaits.” He flipped his hands in the direction of the kitchen. “The garage is through here.”
In the garage, I found a black truck that looked brand new. Within seconds, we were in the truck, pulling out and heading toward Shadow Ridge University.
Killian glanced in my direction, and I realized my leg was bouncing fitfully against the black leather. I forced it to stop and examined the truck’s interior. This was a newer model that had all the bells and whistles. On a cold day, the seat warmer would feel like heaven.
As we drove through the quaint downtown, I scanned the buildings. The road was two lanes lined with parking meters outside of brick shops that connected for a couple of miles. There were restaurants, banks, and a movie theater. Everything that you’d expect to find in a town.
As we stopped at a red light, the door to a breakfast restaurant opened, and a guy wearing all black with an auburn goatee stepped out.
My heart froze as he locked eyes with me.
CHAPTER FIVE
T
he car closed in around me, and my lungs stopped working. The morning took on a surreal quality. If the attackers had found my trail, I’d expect them to track me straight to Killian’s home,
not go eat breakfast at a diner in the middle of town.
What was their end game? Maybe they needed to refuel before coming after me again.
My strength was returning now that the new moon was over, but that wasn’t comforting at all. They should have struck hard and fast while I remained weak.
Killian spoke, but I couldn’t make sense of his words. My attention was focused entirely on the man I was sure was Goatee. Our gazes were still locked, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Could we have it out in the middle of the town square?
My hands clenched as the door to the diner opened and three men joined Goatee on the curb.
“We need to go,” I said through gritted teeth as Goatee looked away and focused on his friends.
This would be where he warned them, and they’d attack. I hadn’t brought my knife because of this stupid-ass dress, and now I regretted it. I had no weapon against these assholes, which proved my training correct. We learned to always have something on hand.
“Go!” I shouted. We were still sitting at the red light like bumps on a log.
“I can’t.” Killian gestured to people walking through the crosswalk in front of us. “Or I’m going to hurt someone.”
Of course we’d be stuck at a red light. It was like the universe was pushing me toward these assholes, and I didn’t know why. I’d lost everything. Wasn’t that enough?
All I could do was sit here and wait.
Wait for the gestures and shouts.
Wait for them to drag me from the car.
Wait for them to finish the job and hopefully kill me too.
I’d rather die than be forced into a relationship with the sole purpose of producing offspring. Could I even love children that came from a forced union? I was afraid the answer would be yes, which would mean that watching them grow up into horrible people would be the final torture my would-be kidnappers could bestow upon me.
“Dove?” Killian leaned over to look at the four guys, who turned and casually walked away.
My breathing hitched. They were walking away. I shook my head and sucked in the breath I so desperately needed.
The fog began to clear as I blinked. If they were my attackers, they wouldn’t have walked away like that. The people chasing me had been bound and determined to get me. They would’ve struck immediately.
I was being paranoid. Surely there was more than one redhead in the world who wore a goatee.
As my body sagged, the truck pulled forward.
Killian touched my arm softly, but his voice contained an edge. “Did those guys do something to you?”
“No.” If he hadn’t thought I’d lost my marbles by now, he would after this. “But the one that walked out first reminded me of one of the attackers. I thought-” My voice failed me, and I sat there with my mouth hanging open.
“Hey, you’re going to see their faces and probably your packs’ faces sporadically.” Pain laced his words. “Believe me. It’s part of the denial process, or maybe the trauma of it all. And I wasn’t the one who found my family dead. You’re going to have it so much worse than me.”
“So that was normal?” I grimaced. I didn’t want that to be normal for me-a trauma survivor. But no one would ever choose this road.