Page 16 of Cold Foot Revenge (Wreck’s Mountains #7)

Roxy couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t breathe!

Her body felt like it would explode, and her skin was still burning, and her paws were all ripped up from running for her life across cracked concrete!

Frantic, she crawled up into the seat and prepared to jump out the window.

Dylan was yelling something, but she couldn’t understand the words he was saying.

All she could make out clearly was the roaring in her ears.

She bunched her muscles to jump, but the window started rolling up, and the truck jerked to the side and two of the wheels went up on the sidewalk of an empty lot.

They were well past town, but Grave and Leech and Donnie could still catch up!

Terrified, she rounded on Dylan, but he was already vacating the truck, and left the door open for her, bless that man. She scrambled out of the truck and hit the ground hard, then bolted for the trees that lined the back of the empty lot.

Her body was doing something awful. It was imploding, and burning, and her bones felt like they were breaking!

It wasn’t until she as midway through the unintentional Change that she could make out his words.

He was telling her to, “Change back.”

And her body was doing it! Without her telling it to! Without her control!

The Change was awful, and she thought she would die of it as she lay there growing her skin back. Every blade of grass was a knife cutting into her body, and every leaf was shrapnel. She didn’t realize until the end that the groaning sound that filled her ears was her.

She lay there panting, looking up at the sky, tears streaming down the sides of her cheeks, waiting for a death that did not come.

“Roxy?” Dylan whispered, worry in his bright blue eyes.

“You made me do that,” she said, her voice still full of the coyote’s growl.

“I didn’t make you do anything.”

“You made me Change. That hurt. You hurt me.”

He stood and gave her space, utter confusion etched onto every facet of his face. “I was trying to help you.”

Slowly, painfully, she sat up. The ache was lessening by the moment, but she still remembered what had happened. It was carved into her bones.

“You aren’t supposed to give me orders,” she said in a horrified whisper.

“I…” He frowned and pulled his T-shirt off his head, then handed it to her from too far away, like he didn’t want to come closer. “I can’t give orders. I’m not an Alpha. I’m not even a shifter.”

A sob filled her lungs, and she stood in a rush, grabbed the T-shirt, and fumbled with putting it on until the fabric covered her body.

The hem of his oversized t-shirt fell to her knees and she hung her head, gripping the sides of the shirt with her clenched fists.

She was panicking. She could feel it building inside of her.

“I want you to leave!”

“No.”

Pissed, she told him, “I need you to leave me alone. Everything was fine before you came along. You came here and made my life seem little and unacceptable, and I changed, and now I’m—”

He kissed her. Just pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn’t a violent or demanding kiss. He was being careful with her injured lip, but his arms were around her.

He was holding her so tightly and something happened to her body.

She’d felt like she was breaking apart, but now, in his arms, she felt like she was calming down.

Each pass of his lips, each lap of his tongue, each gentle caress was settling her overreactive system down.

Don’t run.

With a gasp of relief, she wrapped her arms around him and melted into him. He disengaged from the kiss and hugged her so tightly, swaying them gently. “You taste like blood,” he murmured.

She could feel his heart beating so hard against her chest. “We should go. They can still find us. You have to drop me somewhere and get away from me.”

Warm tears streamed down her cheeks because she knew her life was over. It was all over.

She was met with silence, and him easing back.

Dylan lifted his fingertips to her chin and eased her face up to look at him.

Whatever he saw on her face, the worry in his gaze was replaced with shards of anger.

“You taste like blood,” he said again. “What happened to your lip? Why is your face bruised?”

She tried to shake her head away from his touch, but he did it again—he lifted her chin. “Don’t run from me. Run from those assholes,” he gritted out, twitching his head in the direction they’d come from. “Not me. I’m not hurting you.”

“You made me Change,” she whispered, trying to grenade him.

“Not on purpose. I don’t know what’s happening, but listen to my voice, Roxy. I would never hurt you on purpose.” He stepped closer. “Tell me to, and I’ll go back there and unload my weapon into whoever hit you in the face. No one gets to touch you like that.”

“It’ll heal fast,” she said in a rush. “It’ll be gone in half a day.”

“That’s half a day too long.” Dylan knelt down and cracked his knuckles.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused.

Dylan blew out a breath and then turned his face to the side, exposing his throat to her. “Who did this?”

He was down in the most vulnerable position, the tenderest part of him exposed to her.

No male had ever done this to her before.

“I won’t tell you to Change anymore. I didn’t know it would be forced for you.” He beseeched her with his eyes. “Roxy. Who. The fuck. Did this to you? Was it Grave?”

She nodded slightly. “He took all the money I made tonight, and he took my car, and he…” The tears were all filled up again, so she blinked hard and hung her head.

“He slapped the shit out of you and then chased you down the fucking main drag of town.”

“Yes.”

Dylan stood and walked off.

“Where are you going?” she asked, following a few steps.

“I need a minute,” he called without looking at her.

She waited here on the edge of the trees as he made his way to his truck and got inside.

Through the tinted window, she could see him staring blankly ahead.

And then suddenly, he slammed his fist against the steering wheel over and over, and yelled a terrifying sound.

She’d never seen a human look so angry as he pressed buttons on the screen of his truck.

He leaned his arm on the console and ran his hand up and down his short beard as he talked to someone. To himself?

She strained her ears to hear what he was saying as she walked closer.

“Rabbit Hole. 2598 South Gentry Street.”

She frowned and kicked her pace up to a jog.

“Just you and Tawk. I don’t want Garret anywhere near this.”

She thought he would react negatively to her approaching his truck when he’d asked for a minute, but instead, he leaned over and pushed open the door for her.

A man’s deep voice came through the speaker. “Stay out of it until we can get there.”

“Don’t tell Garret,” Dylan said. “Please. He’s good. He’s got Raynah and Breah. Let him keep his peace.”

“Lay low.”

“Thanks, Wreck. I owe you.”

“No, you don’t.” Click . The line went dead.

Dylan gritted his teeth and shook his head, then leveled her with a look and just stared.

“What?” she whispered.

“I can’t stand the wait. I can’t stand him thinking he got away with this shit.”

“Was that Wreck?” she asked. “ The Wreck?” Oh, she’d heard the rumors. The Cold Foot Crew was run by a phoenix. The destructive kind. An ender of worlds. A death-bringer.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“What’s going to happen?”

“Revenge.” Another simple answer that held so much weight, it made it hard for her to breathe.

“You don’t understand. The Grit-Bron Crew has a hold of this whole town.”

“I know it feels big, Roxy, because this is all you know, but this is not how it is supposed to be. I need to know.”

“Know what?” she whispered.

“Everything. I need to know everything.”

And so, as he drove them farther out of town, to find a place to lay low as Wreck had asked, she did. She told him everything.

She told him about the resumes, and the car, and the loan, and the interest, and the traps Grave had carefully set to keep her dependent on him.

About the dancing, and the emptiness she felt because she didn’t even get to keep her money from all that awful work.

She told him about the hope she’d felt tonight, and the money she’d made, and what had happened to her face.

By the time they pulled into a motel parking lot an hour away from the Rabbit Hole, she felt absolutely drained, but something else was happening. She also felt extreme relief, like every story she’d unloaded to Dylan had lifted a weight off her chest she hadn’t known was there.

Tonight, she’d had hope for a few hours, and it had felt so absolutely and utterly beautiful. That hope had been dashed by Grave. Again.

But now? Dylan was more capable than she’d realized.

He’d shown up when she’d been in a desperate situation and running for her life.

He’d put himself between her and the charging, murderous Grit-Bron Crew.

Just appeared with his window open, making sure she had a safe spot to land.

His new truck was mangled on the back right, but he didn’t even mention it.

Dylan was just concerned about her. That’s all.

Don’t run.

Her coyote sure had a lot of advice and feelings tonight, where usually she was silent.

“I have to tell you something,” she told him as he moved to get out of the truck and check them into a room.

He froze. “What is it?”

She swallowed hard and pulled the neck of his t-shirt to the side. “You did that.”

The make-up she’d camouflaged it with was long gone, and she could feel the throbbing mark there.

“What is that?” he asked, tracing it with his fingertip.

“You bit me.”

“Gently.”

“I think my body took it differently.”

He blinked and lifted his bright blue gaze to hers. “I know what claiming marks are. I didn’t think humans could make them.”