Page 13 of Found (Mate Rejected #8)

13

AERIN

S omeone is chasing me.

I pump my arms as I run, focused on a small gap in the trees just up ahead.

If I can just make it to that tree, I’ll be okay.

My breath wheezes from between my lips, creating white puffs of light in the night.

But no matter how fast I run, no matter how hard I ache to get to freedom, the distance never gets any closer.

And behind me…

Crack.

I whip my head around at the twig snapping feet away.

No one is there, but I’m not alone in this forest.

Someone is there.

Someone is always there.

I twist back around, running faster, and then, impossibly, I’m there.

I burst through the gap in the trees, and I skid to a stop. Spinning in a circle, I shake my head. “No. This can’t be right. No.”

I’m back at the farmhouse.

Right where I creeped out of minutes before.

A howl rings out in the night, and I twist toward the sound.

It came from the Raleigh house, and I know exactly what it means.

They’re here.

They’ve caught me.

A large brown wolf with glinting gold eyes steps free from the same gap in the trees I did moments before.

His mouth falls open, a low, rumbling growl pouring out, so visceral I feel the vibration.

I back up a step.

It’s too late to run.

I can’t fight him.

My powers don’t work.

I back up as the wolf’s hind legs tense, wishing I had fought harder to live, wishing I had kissed Mack one last time.

The wolf lunges at me, jaws open, and teeth glinting in the night.

I scream as I fall, trying to protect my throat.

Too late.

He bites down and ? —

“Hey!”

My world shatters.

I’m lying in my bed and the scent of Shane’s blood drying on my cheek isn’t as strong as it was before.

I meant to go to the bathroom and wash my face.

I meant to do so many things. But all I could do was curl up on the bed and soak the pillow with tears Shane doesn’t deserve.

And I fell asleep.

Knock. Knock.

I twist to face the door.

“Hey?” a man calls out, voice low. “Franklin said I should bring you something to eat.”

I glance at the balcony window, trying to gauge the time and how long I’ve been asleep. Probably not long because it’s still dark out, though the faintest hint of sunlight peeps between the furthest trees in the distance.

I don’t want to answer the door.

Because now I’m awake, all the fear from before has returned two-fold.

I tried to run.

Franklin knew I would. Probably he instigated it all along so he could see what I would do.

And he killed Shane.

Now I’m alone in a house of people who couldn’t care if I lived or died.

“Look, I’m not here to hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking?” the man’s voice is a little louder, almost like he’s leaned even closer to talk through the door.

I clear my throat and slowly, awkwardly ease myself into an upright position.

As I place my feet on the hardwood floors, I realize I have blood on them that I didn’t notice before.

Shane’s blood.

I must have run right through it to get back to the house.

Swallowing hard, I clear my throat again as I focus on the man at the door I wish would go away. “I don’t want any food.”

The floorboard outside creaks, like he’s shuffling from foot to foot. “Well, I can just leave it out here if you want?”

“Thanks,” I say, not moving from the bed.

I don’t know why Franklin has sent someone to bring me food, especially when it’s so late. Why would I want to eat now after what I just saw him do?

“Okay then,” the man says. “I’ll just set this down for you.”

I listen, but I don’t hear him putting anything down.

When he walks away, his footsteps sound heavy, and I wish I’d been awake when he first came to my door so I’d know why him being here is making me so uneasy.

When I can no longer hear his footsteps, I get to my feet and hesitate before walking over to the door.

If he was here to hurt you, he’d have just forced his way in, I tell myself. He wouldn’t have bothered with any pretense at all.

But then why do I think he was lying?

I linger beside the closed door, not eager to open it, but not eager to return to my bed until I’ve investigated the hallway either.

The dream—nightmare—definitely unnerved me and I’m on edge, expecting trouble when I’m probably just being paranoid.

I grip the door handle, twist it and quickly open it, hoping to surprise anyone who might be out there waiting to surprise me.

But as I lean out of my room into a dark hallway, no one is there.

There’s a tray just outside my room with a bottle of water on its side, a red apple, and an unopened packet of jerky on it.

“He was telling the truth,” I mutter, smiling at my own paranoia.

Bending to pick up the strange meal Franklin felt I needed to have in the middle of the night requires effort, but I manage it and close the door, returning to my bed with the tray.

Shane took away the plate of chicken and rice he brought the other day that I wouldn’t eat, so I place the tray on the bedside table. Not hungry, but relieved I had nothing to fear.

I lay back down again and ponder my position.

What’s going to happen to me now?

I was supposed to be Shane’s reward for drawing Mack here, but now what? I glance at the crib on the other side of the room. Is Franklin going to make me stay here or will he let me leave?

An hour later, I’m no closer to sleep as I lay on my side when footsteps move toward my room.

They’re not heavy like before, but light. I’m not sure if it’s the same man from before or it’s someone else.

I hold my breath, eyes glued to the door as I wait for whoever it is to walk past.

The footsteps slow.

Please don’t come in here , I mentally will the person away.

Someone knocks on the door.

Not loudly.

The knock is timid.

I stare at the door, not intending to open it.

I am still staring at it when the handle starts to very slowly turn.