they chorus.
Ron sighs.
My heart rate quickens as I watch him move toward what must be the exit. This is it-my first glimpse at a potential escape route. Bun tugs at my leg and I pick her up absently, my eyes glued to Owen as I angle myself for a better view of what he’s doing.
He approaches what appears to be just another section of cave wall, tapping an unremarkable-looking rock formation.
The floor shakes, and a section of wall slides away. Like magic. Harry Potter style.
No daylight comes through the door-it’s dark out. But there’s a faint breeze, carrying fresh air.
I breathe in deep.
Bun reaches up, grabbing at my hair right above my scalp as she scrambles to stand in my arms. Her chubby foot scrabbles at my chest and throat as she climbs my face, and I grip her torso with as much strength as I dare, terrified of her falling.
Ron, the absolute angel, comes over and plucks her off my face. These kids handle her with confidence, like she’s as dangerous as a sack of potatoes. Me? I feel like I’m handling glass.
Wiggly, slobbery glass.
He hands her back to me, settled into a more normal position. Despite the duck bill hiding most of her expression, I get the distinct sense Bun is grumpy.
“Don’t let her do that,”
Ron advises, patting her head.
“She won’t stop if she thinks she can get away with it.”
CAINE
I grip the steering wheel tight enough to leave indentations in the leather as Jack-Eye’s voice crackles through my phone’s speaker. My patience-already hanging by a thread-stretches thinner with each passing minute.
We couldn’t find Halloway anywhere. Even Thom couldn’t track him down, much like he couldn’t track Grace. He keeps blaming some strange magic in the area, but I don’t care about excuses, only results.
And we have none.
Which is why we’re in our current situation.
“No, you need to take Spruce Avenue, not Bruce Avenue,”
Jack-Eye says for the third time.
“There is no fucking Spruce Avenue!”
I slam my hand against the steering wheel with a low growl, my vision hazing red for a split second.
The GPS on this car’s dash shows nothing but a maze of similarly named streets in a godforsaken suburban hellscape.
“Well, that’s what Lyre says, and since she’s the one who knows where we’re going-“
I snarl.
“If she’d just give us the damn location, we wouldn’t be driving in circles.”
A new voice cuts in, Lyre’s sardonic voice bleeding through speakerphone.
“Sorry, did I miss the part where I invited the big bad wolf pack to join my rescue mission? You two should be grateful I’m even letting you tag along.”
Fenris grumbles in my head.
“What street did you just pass?”
she continues, oblivious to her own audacity.
It’s hard to unclench my teeth, but I manage it.
“Beech Street.”
“Okay, then turn left at the next intersection.”
“That’s a one-way street going the wrong direction,”
I growl, peering ahead at the road sign.
Jack-Eye’s voice returns.
“Look, just take a left onto Pine Street, then follow it to Spruce.”
I check the map again.
“There’s Pine Street and Bruce Street. No Spruce.”
“No, it’s definitely Spruce,”
Jack-Eye insists.
Fenris groans in my head. The streets in this area follow a tree-naming convention. Pine. Oak. Maple. Spruce would fit the pattern, not Bruce. Just find Spruce.
I take the turn onto Pine, driving slowly while scanning every street sign.
“There’s no fucking Spruce!”
“I’m looking at it right now,”
Jack-Eye argues.
“S-P-R-U-C-E.”
The car fills with the sound of my low, continuous snarling.
“Well, I’m looking at a street sign that says B-R-U-C-E. Bruce Street. Not Spruce.”
Strange. Jack-Eye wouldn’t make such a basic error.
I slam on the brakes.
“Get out.”
“What?”
my beta asks.
Who?
“You, Fenris. Get out.”
“Are you kicking your own wolf out?”
I’m not even manifested.
“Then manifest. Get. Out. Walk the block. Find this mythical Spruce Avenue yourself.”
Fenris pauses. That’s childish and inefficient. Just keep driving.
“So is listening to you two argue about a street that doesn’t exist!”
I hit the steering wheel again, harder this time. Something cracks beneath my fist.
“Every minute we waste is another minute Grace is with strangers who took her from the hospital. Who knows what they’re doing to her-“
My throat closes up, the words dying there. The thought of Grace scared, hurt, or worse makes my chest feel like it’s being crushed in a vice.
A new voice enters the conversation.
“Um… High Alpha? Can I see the map?”
It’s Andrew. Both he and Thom have been silent in the backseat, and I almost forgot either of them existed.
“Who’s that?”
Jack-Eye asks.
“Sorry, sir. This is Andrew speaking. The map. I think-High Alpha, can you just let me see your phone for a second?”
I grunt, tossing it in the backseat. My beta’s voice is distant now as he says,
“Whose phone? What’s happening?”
Not even thirty seconds later, the Blue Mountain brat says,
“Oh, I see. The Lycan Beta must be looking at an old map. There’s been construction in this area-they renamed the streets.”
Andrew’s eminently reasonable words cause my shoulders to roll back and my spine to straighten. I blast the smug feeling in Fenris’s general mental direction.
He scoffs.
“That’s impossible,”
Jack-Eye protests.
“My app is up to date.”
“It just means the maps haven’t been updated yet,”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.