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“My mouth tastes like ass,” is the first thing Avery says.

Sascha turns on the sink, forgoing civility in lieu of sticking his head under the faucet to suck water directly from the stream. He sputters, then says, “Probably from all the ass you’ve been eating.”

Avery laughs, then shoves Sascha out of the way so he can run water into an actual glass. He drains half of it, then offers the rest to Sascha.

“I’m starving,” Sascha says on a gasp the moment the cup leaves his mouth. “Like, I could probably eat a bear.”

“Not again,” Avery whispers, then laughs when Sascha hip-checks him.

“We’re ordering room service.”

Despite the room reeking of sex and sweat, there’s a current of relief that goes a long way in clearing the air. Avery does more than pick at his lunch, which helps Sascha unclench enough to refuel properly. By the time evening arrives without Avery flying into another panic, Sascha texts Petra to let her know they’ve survived. He’s about to suggest they order more food for dinner, only to see Avery pursing his lips at his phone.

“What’s wrong?” Sascha asks immediately.

Avery winces. “You’re not going to like this.”

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Sascha mentally braces himself, then says, “Okay, tell me.”

“I have to go back to the farm.”

Sascha’s eyes fly open. “No.”

“Sascha—”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s important!”

“You not being fileted like a fish isalsoimportant.”

“I just have to go to the main office.” Avery worries his bottom lip with his teeth, biting so hard Sascha almost reaches to pull it free. “I just got a text that tomorrow they’re going to open my locker and trash everything inside. My wallet’s in there, plus all my documentation. I can’t go back to Indiana to replace my birth certificate if I lose it—that were-pack will, quite literally, kill me. At least it’ll make it easy for my parents to identify my body, right? If they evenwantto.” A hysterical laugh bubbles in his chest, emerging as a distressed hiccup.

Sascha swoops in, switching to ‘damage control.’ “Okay, okay. Breathe. I get it. I’ll go with you, okay? Tonight, afteryou’ve eaten more.” He puts a finger over Avery’s mouth when he starts to protest. “I will hogtie you in the bathroom before I let you go back to that fucking place alone, so don’t argue. We’ll go, get your shit, and make ourselves scarce.”

They haven’t talked about what happens after they leave the hotel room. Avery won’t have anywhere to go, and Sascha certainly can’t help him. Wedged so far under his father’s thumb, he doesn’t have his own income, as he was never allowed to get a job due to his health. The closer the conversation gets, the more anxiety builds in the back of Sascha’s mind, in his gut, choking his veins so his blood stutters every time his heart tries to beat.

He doesn’t want Avery to leave, but doesn’t know what other options they have. Not for a lone werecreature with no friends, no allies other than a broken cougar shifter who isn’t strong enough to lead his own pack.

Well aware he’s trembling but not wanting to acknowledge it, Sascha kisses Avery quickly. “Go shower. I’m gonna order more food, then we can… get ready.”

“Alright,” Avery says softly, kissing him back before drifting toward the bathroom. He’s dressed in nothing but the filthy t-shirt Sascha was wearing when he first found Avery on the side of the road, and Sascha watches him pull it over his head, pausing to yawn when it’s only halfway off. His narrow hips have been darkened by hickeys and bruises shaped like Sascha’s fingers, and there’s a fading bite mark on his asscheek.

Then Avery disappears behind the bathroom door, closing it behind him with a click of the latch that sounds a bit too final.

Crouched outside the admin office on Dennings’ property, Sascha begs his heart to stop pounding. Cougars aren’t smallanimals, and even with his sleek body enrobed in darkness, he feels terribly exposed. On a farm patrolled by other shifters, none of them alphas to his knowledge, he’s safer than a rogue werecreature, but any enforcer worth their salt would be naturally suspicious in the presence of such potent fear.

It’s only been a couple minutes since Avery walked inside the otherwise empty building, but every passing second ratchets Sascha’s tension higher until he’s panting from nerves… which makes his anxiety more noticeable. In the distance, he smells another shifter prowling about, but despite Sascha’s worries, whoever it is doesn’t seem to find his presence noteworthy. Their presence fades from his awareness shortly after.

Familiar footsteps have Sascha’s ears perking, and he huffs in relief when Avery makes it outside, intact and unruffled. Sascha rushes to his side, sniffing the fabric of the cheap t-shirt they bought from a drug store on the way back into Bliss. There’s no scent other than factory chemicals, so Sascha bumps his forehead against the back of Avery’s knee, herding him in the direction of the car.

Suddenly, Sascha’s ears prick at the sound of someone approaching, the scent he caught earlier growing stronger.

A pale, mushy-looking man steps from a door at the side of the office building. His gaze immediately descends upon Sascha, full of hostility and derision. Sascha flattens his ears and crouches, a growl rumbling in his throat.

Avery, gone stiff as a board, pats Sascha’s hunched shoulders. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

“Is this that shifter you’re fucking? Gotta be,” says the man, voice slimy and grating.