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This girl’s dead, it’s not like the movies, there won’t be a happy ending. Dead...she’s not coming back.
She hugged herself with arms tight to her chest, suddenly aware that if nothing else, this was a wakeup call, a true testament to the dangers, not only for her, but her entire family.
Hearing the rumble of tires on the cobblestone drive, Donja turned, Makayla at her side. She shielded her eyes from the sun as a black Charger came rolling up the drive.
“I’m going after Maestro,” Donja said as the car pulled up and Gage and Torin got out. Makayla grabbed her with fear dancing in her eyes.
Donja hugged her. “I’ll be right back, I won’t leave you.”
“Promise,” Makayla whispered with pleading eyes.
Donja noticed she was shivering. “I promise,” she said, forcing a smile. “Sisters don’t desert sisters.”
Makayla hugged her tight.
Donja pulled back. “Now take a deep breath, this too will pass.” She walked away, eyes squeezed tight, praying she bought it, for truth be known, she was terrified. She heard Torin’s voice adrift in the wind as he questioned Makayla. She forced herself to keep walking, wandering the verdant meadow. “Maestro!” she called out, wading thick grass dotted with yellow and white wildflowers. Winds whipped her ponytail to lash her face and she brushed it away scanning the landscape. “Maestro! she called with both hands flanking her mouth. She listened and then heard his barks. She hurried deeper into the meadow, winds billowing the tall grass. She spied him, just shy of a majestic spruce, digging feverishly. She cut the distance between them. “Maestro, you bad boy. You’re going to be so dirty and you know you hate baths.”
Maestro ignored her, ears pricked, whining excessively while digging at what looked like a gopher hole. She scooped him up in her arms, struggling with short whimpers. “That’s not nice Maestro, that’s just a little rabbit, you shouldn’t chase him.”
“And you shouldn’t be out here in this meadow unprotected,” a deep masculine voice resonated. She spun and faced off with Torin as he removed his sunglasses. She lowered her eyes and struggled to contain Maestro. She angled her head with a fleeting glance but didn’t fail to notice the dark hair on his chiseled chest, visible beneath a partially unbuttoned plaid shirt. She dropped her eyes to Maestro, but by no will of her own, they crept back to his faded jeans which were so tight, they left nothing to the imagination. She dropped her head again, heat rising from her chest all but forcing a gasp. “I had to stop him…he…would kill that poor rabbit.”
“That is the nature of things, predator feeding on prey,” he said as Donja slowly raised her head. “It’s all around us,” he said, his eyes washing over her, “cheetah and gazelle, lion and buffalo, yet we ignore it, it’s a part of life, so woven into our existence that we don’t give it a second thought.”
She noticed his fingers tremble. “That doesn’t make it right,” she mused.
“Right, wrong, when you’re hungry, you eat.”
She shivered as winds whipped her hair and she noticed Maestro had ceased his struggle, ears pricked with his eyes locked on Torin.
Does he know that he’s not…human?
“I’m sorry to hear about Becky,” she said suddenly remembering why he was here.
“It was a senseless killing.”
“Was it the same guy, the scar-faced man?”
“Yes, and he will kill again.”
Donja grimaced.
“I need you to think,” Torin said. “Did he give you a name or mention where he is from?”
“No.”
“Think, Donja, what did he say to you?”
“Oh, I—hmm, let me think. He had a slight accent and used a lame pick up line, something like, ‘I never expected to see a beautiful girl like you.’”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, I was staring at his scar, I couldn’t help myself and he said it happened in Afghanistan.”
“Afghanistan?”
“Yes, I’m certain of it,” she said. She noticed that Maestro was sniffing the air. He growled with his eyes locked on Torin.”
“Maestro,” she whispered holding him tighter.