Page 50 of Ascendant Moon (Gladstone Shifters #6)

Favored with good weather and an early start, Lincoln stopped for a rest northeast of Chandler around noon.

According to the map in his head, that placed him about twelve miles from the Gladstone packlands—another two hours of travel at a steady trot.

He’d have to first reach Rapid River at the northern tip of Little Bay de Noc, and then turn south for a couple of miles.

Between here and there, however, were three river crossings, busy highways, and a lot of humans.

Lincoln wasn’t used to traveling in populated areas as a wolf, and he’d have to remain hidden and alert for danger.

The extra caution would surely slow him down, but there was nothing to be done except press on and hope for the best. Big packs like Gladstone should be easy to locate by scent alone, though he had no idea what kind of security they had or if everyone lived deep inside their borders.

How far would he get before someone challenged him?

Until now, his mind had focused only on escape, survival, and reaching his goal.

But with every step closer to freedom, he carried the burdens of his recent past with him.

He didn’t want to examine his experiences with Bruce too closely, though Lincoln knew the confinement and abuse had left him mentally and emotionally scarred.

Was he now condemned to a sad half-life—broken, fearful, and hopeless?

And what about his pup? Was he the best person to raise a healthy child?

Having a true mate would help, but who would want him?

Lincoln shook off the endless circle of negative thoughts and turned to the immediate task at hand—tracking down some prey for lunch. After that came the final stretch of his journey and a new, yet uncertain, beginning.

############

At the same time…

Melva fretted quietly in the front passenger seat, finally on the road but unhappy that their departure from Newald took longer than expected. She’d slept like the dead, exhausted from travel, and Ginny refused to wake her. During a rushed brunch, her friend made a thoughtful suggestion.

“I was happy to let you store things here when you and Lincoln planned to escape in August, but why don’t we take some with us? No sense in driving an empty car when you’ll need your belongings anyway.”

After the meal, they packed the vehicle with various boxes and bags, filling the available space. Melva had to admit that it made sense to bring clothing and other necessaries along, but it pushed back the start time even further.

While only a two-hour drive, she wanted to get there before Lincoln did so she could be his spokesperson.

Locked in wolf form, the poor Omega wouldn’t be able to tell the Gladstone folks who he was or why he’d come to them for shelter.

Beyond that, Melva intended to explain the whole sordid story and ask them to see that justice was done.

Lincoln’s suffering would not be swept under the rug if she had anything to say about it, and if her dear sister Rosalee were still alive, she would heartily agree.

No Omega should be subjected to the whims of evil abusers like Bruce Ballard and his Alpha enabler, Stu Richmond.

Watching the scenery flash past, Melva heaved another heavy sigh and Ginny reached over to pat her friend’s shoulder.

“Don’t you worry, now. We’ll be there soon and this will all be over. I don’t know a lot about Gladstone, but everything I’ve heard has been good. There’s probably not a safer place to go, and that means you won’t have to deal with this all by yourself.”

Though Melva was grateful for her friend’s encouragement, neither she nor Lincoln could rely on the kindness of others forever. If nothing else, perhaps Gladstone would simply be a stepping stone to the home they both needed.

#############

Meanwhile, in Sault Ste. Marie…

People were staring.

Scooter walked away from the registration table with an information packet, room key-card, and a growing discomfort.

None of the other conferees were in uniform, so that wasn’t it, and he didn’t understand why he’d attracted so much attention from both men and women.

That was more confusing than being ogled, and he decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator to his fourth-floor room.

Nothing in his awful upbringing had encouraged a healthy self-image, and that included his looks.

When he gazed in the mirror, Scooter didn’t see anything remarkable or noteworthy, though he wasn’t ugly by any means.

Compliments or undue attention usually caused him to blush and look away—a habit he’d been trying to break.

Robyn had taken him aside recently and explained what he’d apparently missed.

“No one sees themselves the same way others do, so I get why you’re surprised that people notice.

Look, I’m not attracted to you that way but it’s obvious that you’re young, handsome, sweet, and loaded with muscles—what’s not to like?

On top of that, you have a deep sexy voice, look HOT in your uniform, and are a shifter.

Yes, humans notice the difference, though they don’t quite know why.

You are the total package, my friend, so just get used to it! ”

Robyn was a straight shooter and unafraid to speak her mind, saying things that others considered too bold.

Understanding what she’d told him and believing it were two very different things, though he supposed it was better than being noticed for stained clothing, bedhead, or toilet paper hanging out the back of his pants. Right?

Scooter arrived at room 412 and noticed the strong scent of a human male on the other side of the door.

His roommate must have arrived already, and he steeled himself for what was sure to be an awkward introduction.

He let himself in and found a tall, shirtless, redhead changing clothes.

The man’s pale, freckled skin and fiery hair were intriguing in a way Scooter didn’t understand.

He walked to the unused bed, set down his suitcase, and introduced himself.

“Hey. I’m Nate Scoon, though you can call me Scooter. I guess we’re stuck with each other for the week.”

The smiling man tugged on his shirt, quickly scanned Scooter’s body, and reached out to shake hands.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Tripp Gallagher. Where’s your home turf?”

Scooter caught a whiff of attraction from the handsome human, but that happened all the time and probably meant nothing.

“Deputy sheriff in Delta County. How about you?”

Tripp flashed him a smile.

“Proud member of the Mackinac Island Police Department. Have you ever visited the island?”

It was questions like this that made Scooter realize how small his world really was.

“Sorry, no. I’d love to see it someday, but I don’t usually get far from home.”

Tripp sat down on his bed to put on shoes and socks.

“Well, it’s definitely worth your time. Be sure to look me up and I’ll give you the grand tour. Say, we’ve got almost an hour before the first session. How about joining me downstairs for lunch?”

Scooter’s stomach rumbled loudly at the suggestion and Tripp laughed. Food sounded great about now, and having his friendly roommate’s company wasn’t a bad idea.

“Sure. Just let me use the restroom for a minute and I’ll be ready to go.”

Scooter closed the door and prepared to take a piss when he overheard Tripp mumbling to himself.

“Damn, is he smok’in! Keep your hands off, Gallagher. He probably doesn’t swing your way.”

Scooter’s urine stream wavered a bit when he heard what Tripp said, though it explained a few things.

Law enforcement seemed to attract guys with big egos who had something to prove, and many of them detested gay men.

Tripp probably thought Scooter was just like all the others and was afraid to put the moves on him.

Obviously, he had no problem whatsoever with same sex attraction, though having a one-off with his human roomie wasn’t on the agenda.

He was here to learn and that had to remain the primary focus.

It didn’t mean, however, that he and Tripp couldn’t be friends.

Maybe the week wouldn’t be so bad after all.

############

Around 2 p.m., near Gladstone packlands

Lincoln waited until the freight train’s last car was halfway across the bridge before dashing out of his hiding place to follow it over the Whitefish River.

It was a risky move in broad daylight, but the greater danger was the empty spaces between railroad ties.

One clumsy move could snap his leg and leave him stranded on the structure.

Though Lincoln was eager to put this last man-made barrier behind him, he chose his steps carefully to reach the other side without incident.

The heady scent of shifters filled the air and though he knew their general location, he wasn’t sure where the packland’s boundaries were.

It didn’t take long to encounter the first hint—an old logging road that had been closed off with a huge pile of brush and a tall wooden barrier.

If that wasn’t enough, signs had been erected saying “PRIVATE PROPERTY” and “NO TRESPASSING.” Given the nearby Highway 2, private homes, and a smattering of businesses, Lincoln could understand why the extra effort was needed to keep curious humans out.

Off to the left, he slipped through the trees heading southeast and eventually crossed another overgrown logging road.

This one led to an enormous old burn scar—wide open and leaving him exposed to view.

He supposed that it made little difference now, since he actually wanted someone from the pack to find him.

Along with scores of individual scents, he could smell a nearby lake and the dissipating scent of cooked food.

The packhouse would be a logical place to go, since surely someone would be around to help him.