“Yeah, we need to find Roman.” Asher jammed a finger at Mila. “But she’s stuck, Gentry. And Odine knows shit we don’t.”
His phone chirped, and chills blasted up Mila’s spine when Asher checked the caller ID and gave a dark laugh. “Odine says we need to see her right now. Get in the truck.”
Gentry locked eyes with Mila as Asher got behind the wheel.
“Get in!” Asher barked, and those two simple words forced her legs to move. It shouldn’t have. Asher wasn’t her alpha, but Gentry was making his way to the back seat of the truck, jerking with each step, as if he had no control either.
Mila scrambled into the passenger’s seat and slammed the door beside her. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, or what’s wrong with your wolf, Asher, but I’m not your pack. Gentry either. You need to cut the orders out.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he snarled as he spun out of the parking lot. “I forget that…”
“Forget what?” Gentry asked softly from the back seat.
Asher scrubbed his hand down his blond facial scruff. “I forget I can do that.”
“Why can you do that?” Mila asked carefully.
Asher reached forward and turned up the volume on the radio instead of answering. He felt way too heavy, so Mila cracked the window to get some fresh air, and then she pressed herself as far away from Asher as possible, where she stayed flat as a pancake for the duration of the fifteen-minute drive out to Odine’s cabin.
Odine was waiting on the front porch, wrapped in a thick blanket, and smoking a pipe. Her olive skin was leathered, and there was more gray in her hair than Mila remembered. Her jet-black eyes looked exhausted. When they got out, the witch didn’t say a word, only gestured them inside. Mila stepped into the dim entryway, but when Asher and Gentry tried to follow, Odine held up her hand and told them, “Not you, boys. Just her.”
“Wait,” Mila said, panicked as she bolted for the open door. It slammed closed before she could reach it.
The last time she’d been inside Odine’s house, she’d been bound to Rangeley. Three days of torture, nightmares, hovering in the in-between, and convinced she would die at any moment. Mila was too terrified to turn around. She’d only come in here because she thought Gentry and Asher would be with her. Being alone with the witch wasn’t something she’d been mentally prepared for, and now she was frozen, too afraid to even breathe.
“I told you when I did the binding that Roman would need you. Mila, you were going to leave. I could see it coming. You weren’t going to stay around Rangeley forever, and I needed you here when Roman came back.”
“Why?”
“Because you can heal him. You can save him. You can banish the ghosts he sees. You can give him a life I always wanted for him. No one else on this earth can do that. Just you. He needs you now.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“In darkness. No exact location, just…glimpses. But Asher’s starting to figure it out. The dark wolf can get you close, but you’ll be the one who has to save him, Mila. Do you understand?”
“No! You’re talking in riddles like you always do!”
Odine began to chant something low behind her, and when Mila slowly turned around, Odine was standing in the small, cluttered kitchen, holding the same bouquet of herbs she’d used to bind her to Rangeley. Mila could tell from the awful smell. She would never forget that scent as long as she lived. Her wolf revolted in fear, and Mila cried out at the pain of the Change and dropped to her knees.
“No, girl, not here and not now,” Odine said, clawing her fingers of her empty hand like she was gripping an invisible ball. A glowing, lavender spark erupted there.
Mila gasped at the searing pain in her chest. It felt like the witch had shoved her hand into her ribcage and was holding her heart, squeezing it. The Change stopped, and Mila threw her head back in agony. Her body was moving, rising. Her knees lifted from the floor, and then her dragging feet did, too. She was levitating up near the rafters of the low ceiling, her hands out, terror clogging her throat as the witch’s eyes turned completely black. The chanting got louder, filling Mila’s head, the words echoing and overlapping each other until it was just a low humming sound that vibrated through her body.
She was taking something from Mila. Mila could see the pulsing black fog drifting from her skin. It floated toward Odine, and the woman absorbed it. Was she taking her essence? Her life? Her years? Her wolf?
Mila was so scared she tried to cry out for help, but the second she got the word “Asher” past her vocal cords, she slammed back to the wooden floor. Mila gasped deeply, dragging precious oxygen into her lungs. Her body hurt. She felt like her skin had been ripped off her and her innards set on fire. It hurt so bad she couldn’t see straight, couldn’t do anything but crawl pathetically with no destination in mind.
Across the room, Odine sat hard into a chair and buried her face in her hands. She was heaving breath like Mila was. But at the first hitch in that breath, Mila realized she was crying.
The pain was fading, becoming more bearable. “What did you do?” she rasped out.
In a hoarse voice, like she hadn’t used it in days, Odine croaked out, “You can go now.”
“W-what?”
“I want you to go now. I want you to bring him back.”
“I can leave Rangeley?” Mila asked, too afraid to hope.
Odine pulled her face from her hands. Her cheeks were smeared with tears, and she looked heartbroken. “I can’t lose another, you understand? After Noah…” Odine swallowed hard a few times before she tried again. “Call the white wolf. You’ll need clothes.”
“What kind of clothes?”
“Something sexy. Ripped up. Gritty. Where you’re going…you can’t look innocent. The monsters would eat you alive. Dress like you are a monster, too. Now go. You’re running out of time. I can feel him—” Odine shook her head and winced. “This is your moment, Mila. The one your life has built up to. Don’t waste it.”
Baffled, Mila stood and made her way to the door. She turned, feeling like she should thank Odine for something, but she didn’t understand what. “I’ll see you later,” she said instead.
Odine gave a sad smile. “I hope so.”
Mila frowned and then made her way down the steps. The door slammed closed behind her, but she could hear Odine crying again inside as she made her way toward Asher’s truck. Her skin was tingling, and she smelled different. She didn’t have that faint black magic smell anymore. Any other time, she would’ve celebrated. She would’ve jumped up and run around in circles laughing and crowing, but right now, all she cared about was hitting that county line, moving past it, and finding Roman. Odine was scared for him, and for some reason, that terrified Mila.
“Are you okay?” Gentry asked, his bright green eyes wide as he studied her face.
“I think so.” But she wouldn’t be if they didn’t get to Roman. “He’s running out of time. That’s what Odine said.”
Asher was staring at his phone with a frown. “Rhett’s on the move.”
“What?” Gentry asked.
“I put a tracker in his truck the day I came back here. He hasn’t left town this entire time, but right now, he’s headed north.” He inhaled deeply and locked his eerie silver gaze on Mila. “You know him best, Mila. If Rhett was going to end Roman, what would he do?”
Dread spread through her body like corpse fingers unfurling. “He would want to watch.”
Asher nodded, wholly unsurprised. “We need to follow him.”
“Yeah,” she said, running around the front of the truck, “but first I have to call Blaire.”
“Why?” Gentry asked as he loaded up in the back.
“Because I need a change of clothes.”
Mila had always hated Odine for what she’d done to her, but she couldn’t deny the witch knew things beyond the realm of reason. That, and she had some tender spot in her black heart for Roman. She’d said Mila needed to match the monsters they
would find, so okay.
She didn’t like it, but tonight, Mila was going to trust the witch.
Chapter Fifteen
The floor of his cell was stained dark and smelled of iron. Roman winced and grabbed his ribs as if that would ease the pain of the broken one. The last two days had been hell, and his shifter healing was slowing down. Not a good sign.
Bright side—he knew exactly what kind of animal Rhett was now. He was dealing werewolves, selling his own people to dog fights. Bad news, though—Roman was having trouble figuring out how to save himself from this. And if he didn’t survive another night, it wouldn’t make any difference how much he’d learned over the last forty-eight hours.
He swallowed a groan of pain as he wrapped his battered knuckles with tape. There weren’t many rules, but no gloves were allowed. The paying customers wanted a blood-bath. The crowd loved when one of the contenders was opened up.
Beside him, a dappled black and gray wolf paced the cell length. Dirty metal bars separated them. The wolf, Hays, everyone called him, wouldn’t last through the fights tonight. He knew it, and so did the contenders in the other cells. All glowing eyes, all hungry, all looking at the ripped-up werewolf who couldn’t even hide his limp anymore. Fuck, Roman hoped he didn’t draw Hays. His inner wolf was already on the verge of the same insanity that the others were fighting just from the kills he’d done. He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to be here.
The hanging lightbulb above Roman’s cell flickered, casting everything in eerie shadows. He was growing hungry for something he didn’t understand. Blood maybe. He’d had moments of dread for the next fight, but over the last few hours, as they’d pulled wolf after wolf, he’d begun feeling something different. Something that unsettled him. Bloodlust.
The wolves at the end had been here the longest. Roman bit the tape and began wrapping his other hand as he watched the big brawlers in the last two cells. They were both watching Hays with snarled lips, as though they wanted to eat him while they were still human. Two psychopaths, who had probably been decent guys before Anderson bought them. Now they were empty shells with nothing but darkness inside of them. Killing unnecessarily did that to werewolves. It ruined them. Already, Roman could feel it ruining him, too.
Dad stood in the corner of his cell. At least he wasn’t going to die alone, so there was that. God, he couldn’t think like that. He had to get out of this somehow, get back to Mila, let her heal his damaged soul. He would never tell her about what had happened here, but he could find sanctuary in her embrace.
The door on the opposite wall swung open, and a behemoth strode in, eyes glowing gold. Anderson. Fucking traitor werewolf, pitting his own kind against each other for money. Roman was going to kill him. He didn’t know how yet, but if it was the last thing he did, he would end that asshole for all he’d taken from this world. He would bet his jeep Rhett had sold some of his pack to Anderson when they’d defied him. Anderson kept hinting that Rhett always gave him the best fighters. None of the wolves in here were familiar, so the other Bone-Rippers were probably long dead.
He tracked Anderson’s progress down the line of cells. He held a cattle prod, the contraption sparking electricity at the end like it was ready to zap the shit out of one of them. Again. Roman had been on the end of that thing a dozen times already. Roman snarled when Anderson locked eyes with him as he passed and smiled. He’d filed his teeth to sharp points and looked half Changed already. He lived for pain.
“Hays, you’re up.”
Shit. “Against who?” Roman asked, ripping the tape and testing the tightness of the wrap on his knuckles.
“Don’t worry, Striker, you’ll get your shot to bleed someone tonight. Your eyes say you’re ready. I haven’t seen human color in them for twenty-four hours. I think you’re ready for a brawl with one of the beasts,” Anderson said, gesturing to the psychopaths on the end. “Hays isn’t for you. You’d kill him in fifteen seconds flat, and what fun would that be for a crowd? None. He’s food for Brayah tonight.”
Roman’s heart sank to his feet. Brayah, female, middle of a pack dominance but a fighter. She was brought in the same day as Roman. She must’ve won her last match. Two matches back-to-back could be her end, even if it was with an injured wolf. “You just fought her.”
“When I want your opinion on matches, I’ll ask. The customers like the girl. They like when she wins. They want the double match, and they get what they want,” he said, rubbing his fingers together in a money gesture. “Sit tight, Striker. You’re next. Grand finale tonight, you lucky dog, you. So many requests for the rogue. You’ve got fans out there.” Anderson charged the cell but stopped right as he reached the bars. With an evil grin, he murmured, “I’ve got something special in store for you. Enjoy your last breaths.”
When Anderson walked to Hays’s cell and opened the creaking metal door, the wolf didn’t even fight it. His eyes had dimmed, and he carried his head and tail low as though he’d already accepted defeat. Hays ghosted him a glance as he trotted by. Roman wished he could say something encouraging to light a fire under him, but then he’d be telling him to kill Brayah.
Everything in this hell was so messed up.
Enjoy your last breaths.
Roman dragged his gaze to the brawlers at the end, then closed his eyes and imagined Mila’s face. Good, light, smiling. She was the happy place he disappeared to when the dark thoughts filled his head. When he had moments of weakness and wanted to give up, her face was what he imagined to get him fighting again. He couldn’t turn into Hays. He had to keep winning until he could figure out a way to escape this place.
She wasn’t safe until Rhett was cold and in the ground, and Roman’s brothers couldn’t protect her until they understood the danger. Rhett was a silver bullet in the heart of the werewolves of Rangeley, and that monster had his sights on Mila.
One way or another, Roman had to get back to her.
Chapter Sixteen
“You look fine,” Blaire whispered, grasping Mila’s hand.
Mila stopped fiddling with the rips in her skin-tight, black skinny jeans and held Blaire’s hand like a scared child. Terror had crept inside her and made a home in her chest, and she needed to steady out, fast.
Up front, Asher was quiet as the night, eyes drifting occasionally to his phone where he was tracking Rhett. Gentry was sitting in the front seat, staring out the window. He would snarl low, stop himself, and then start back up a few seconds later.
“Cut that shit out. You’ll set me off,” Asher growled. When he looked over at Gentry, his eyes were nearly white.
Mila whined, but swallowed hard and forced herself to stop. “Gentry, seriously don’t set him off in here.” She rolled down the window and sucked the freezing cold air in hopes to relieve the heaviness that had settled over her.
Now leaving Rangeley. Mila stared in shock as they passed the sign. That used to be one of the boundaries. How many hours had she spent testing the line, trying to escape this place, and suddenly, she was past it, blasting down the road in a truck full of dominant werewolves. Her life sure had taken a strange turn. Strange. Ha. Maybe Rangeley should be called Strangeley.
Blaire was wearing a short leather skirt over fishnet stockings and black combat boots. Her sweater had diamond shapes cut out of the sides, and her red hair was curled and flowing down her shoulders. She’d done dark make-up around her eyes, making them look even brighter green. She smelled scared, too, but her hand clutched in Mila’s was steady.
Mila blew out a long breath and glanced up in the rearview mirror. Blaire had done her make-up and trimmed her bangs. Her eyeshadow was shimmery black, and Blaire had done thick eye-liner that made her look like she had cat-eyes. Her dark hair was curled in thick waves and trailing down her shoulders. Her black sweater was all ripped up, showing her sides, her arms, her collar bones, her cleavage. God, she looked so different from what she was used to. It was a total transformation. At least she was wearing boots with thick heels. Easier
for running and/or kicking peoples’ teeth in, she supposed.
The next hour felt like hell. The evening shadows morphed to full dark, and it started snowing again. The churning clouds above blotted out the moon and stars, and even with her heightened vision, the woods that passed outside the window looked too dark, too haunted.
Roman. She couldn’t even imagine what was happening to him, and waves of panic overtook her every few minutes with an urgency to get to him. To make sure he was okay.
“You would feel it if he were dead,” Asher said in a voice too gravelly to be human.
Chills rippled up her arms. “What do you mean?”
Asher turned onto a worn dirt path off the main. “He’s not dead. You’re bound. You would be dead, too.”
“Stop fucking doing that, man!” Gentry barked. “I don’t even want to know what you did to yourself to be able to guess people’s thoughts, but stay out of our heads.”
“Bound?”
“I can see it,” Asher said in that demon voice of his. “It’s purple. Dark. It’s always moving, like fog, but when you and Roman are together, it stays between you, connecting you. I saw it when you were kids, too, but it was faint. Roman fought it. Gentry and Blaire have one too, but theirs is blue.”
“Like fog,” Blaire said in a strange tone as she stared at the back of Asher’s dirty blond hair. “I saw that when Odine was saving me. There was blue fog that kept reaching for Gentry. Every time I opened my eyes, it was there between us. Asher, are you like Odine?”
“We’re here,” he ground out.
Sure enough there were rows of cars and trucks in an old, cracked parking lot, but there was no building. There were just transmission towers and a bunch of complicated-looking electrical equipment built on a gravel lot, surrounded by barbed wire fencing.
Asher and Gentry didn’t seem deterred, though. They both wore black sweaters and black pants over dark boots. Without a word, they each pulled a black winter hat low over their foreheads and shoved their doors open like they’d trained for this. It was good, though. They seemed confident, so it bolstered Mila’s bravery a little.