Page 18 of Into the Dawn (The Devil’s Claw #3)

18

VANESSA

I watch as Jed emerges from the large wooden barn, his dirty plaid shirt hanging loose around his frame, and ripped jeans shoved into heavy work boots. Ben's dried blood crusts his knuckles, a reminder of what's at stake.

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the compound, turning everything blood-red in the dying light.

Shutting the door behind him, he locks it with a giant padlock, which is unusual when there's nobody around except our clan, and nothing of real value inside other than rusted farm equipment that's seen better days. The metal gleams dully against the weathered wood, and oddly new compared to everything else in this decaying compound.

Through our bond, I feel Ben's steady presence, though something feels different. Unsettled.

"You must be lost." My dad's stern voice jerks me back to reality.

Red dust swirls around his boots as he approaches, the scorched earth betraying his silent footsteps. Hot wind whips through the compound, making it hard to breathe. It's been a long time since I've ventured any further than my parent’s house, which I only visit to check in on my mother and keep everyone else off my back.

There's nothing else here that holds any interest for me, and my father knows it. Years of neglect shows in every corner, from broken windows patched with plywood, to equipment left to rust in weed-choked yards.

My hand flies to my chest, trying not to look as guilty as I feel for getting caught snooping.

For a big man, he sure knows how to move quietly. Sometimes, I forget he's more than just a cruel bully, and that he's actually a man who's able to deliver on his promises and threats.

The scars on his knuckles tell me that the stories Mum used to tell us in hushed whispers to get us to behave were probably true.

"I thought he was supposed to be getting my money," I whisper, nodding toward Jed, who’s sauntering off, oblivious to even being watched. The air feels thick and oppressive, with more than just the summer heat.

My father shakes his head, eyes following Jed's retreating form. A half-collapsed fence behind him speaks of how far this place has fallen under his rule. The silence stretches between us, heavy with mistrust.

"How do you know that after one of my men bites you that it won't fix the problem? Maybe this doctor is going to be a waste of money."

I stare at him, his words making my beast bristle. "I've had this conversation with you before, Daddy."

"Hmm," he says, unconvinced. “What do these doctors know, anyway?”

His boots kick up more of the fine red dust as he moves.

"I'm starting to wonder though, if your problems aren’t because you keep yourself hidden away. Maybe if you were amongst all my men, maybe if you were more active," he says, graciously leaving out the word 'sexually' so I don't have to vomit onto my shoes. "…your beast would come forward, and you'd go into heat. She might cotton onto the idea that our one purpose in life is to further the species and find someone here who’d give her strong pups."

I battle the urge to roll my eyes, disgust churning in my stomach.

“It’s not that simple. If there were someone here for her, she’d have let me know already.”

Through our bond, I feel Ben's growing unease, matching my own.

It tracks that my father thinks the only reason women are here is to help men procreate, and to cook and clean for them. He couldn't possibly believe we could contribute to the clan in any meaningful way unless we were popping out babies.

"You're too fussy.” He scoffs, dismissing my rationale with an arrogant wave of his huge hand. “If you want a baby, maybe not being a stuck-up bitch would be a good start." His eyes dance with humour, but I don't find it one bit funny, because there's a thinly veiled truth to his words.

That's what he really thinks of me.

"I don't think it works like that." I need to tread carefully here. I don't want to give away just how attached I am to Ben, or how much I hate him, but he's clearly suspicious. And trying to back out of our deal. "She just refuses to entertain a mate. I'm hoping a doctor will be able to move things along."

That’s a flat out lie. Now that I’ve seen Ben again, I’m not even sure a doctor could prod my body into breeding with someone else.

"Hmm," he says again, still not one hundred percent certain.

The wind carries the scent of other shifters gathering, drawn by the promise of violence and beer, and a spectacle that doesn’t involve their pain.

"Well, we're gonna find out pretty soon, because once I tell these guys what the prize is that's on offer, they're gonna be pretty eager to take a test drive. You might be a looker, honey, but with that smart mouth, a lot of these men are gonna want to make sure getting a few injuries at the hand of Ben King is even worth the hassle."

He takes in my dress, my curled hair, and the coat of mascara and lip gloss that I've applied, and nods.

His approval makes my skin crawl. I feel like cattle being paraded at the market rather than his daughter.

"You look better than you normally do, at least. It's not that you're not pretty, Vanessa, but you hide it. Looking like this, I bet there'll be lots of takers."

Yay me.

Except the thought of any other male's touch makes my beast recoil.

I remain silent, refusing to validate his misogynistic comments, but also not wanting to put my foot in it and ruin our chances before they've even begun. Through the dust and the mingling scents of the converging clan, I catch a hint of Ben's scent drifting from the direction of the barn.

"So then, what's the plan?" I ask, forcing my eyes away.

"Well, the plan is we have a meeting. I tell the clan that I've got Ben King here, and that they're gonna have a chance to get payback for the death of their son and brother. Then I'm gonna tell them about the bonus prize." He extends a hand in my direction, his anticipation thick in the air. "And then we're gonna have some fun, moonshine, a little barbecue, then some fucking and some fighting."

My blood runs cold as bile rises up my throat. "You're not really gonna make me have a public claim, are you, Daddy?"

If some asshole tries to push his luck indoors, inside a cabin, at least I’d have a chance of getting one up on him and escaping. I'd kill them if I had to. But in the middle of a crowd of beasts, I don't stand a chance. They'll hold me down, I've heard about them doing it before, and I know witnessing that will break Ben. He'll definitely do something to get himself killed after witnessing that.

"Can't be seen making an exception for you, Vanessa," Dad says, his brows drawn down into a deep V as though he doesn't understand my reticence in the first place. "It's up to the winner. Some guys like to show off, while others get crazy possessive and don't want anybody else watching while they're having some fun." He shrugs. "It's the luck of the draw."

I grimace, cold sweat breaking out despite the heat.

Through our bond, I feel Ben's rising fury. Whatever’s going on in that barn, he’s pissed off too.

"What time?" I ask quietly, trying to figure out just how long I have to get to Ben without anybody noticing, and break him and John out. I look up toward my house and see my mother staring out of the upstairs bedroom window, her expression weary.

Maybe she'll help me create a distraction to keep my dad and Jed occupied long enough for me to get gone. I've already swiped her car keys from the hook beside the hall mirror. Surely, she'll forgive me for stealing it if I send her a cheque to replace the battered piece of shit car my dad has her driving around in.

My dad laughs, dark and creepy, slinging an arm around my shoulder, and holding me against his side a little too tightly. We're not the hugs and kisses kind of family. Physical touch, other than in punishment, is not something I'm used to, and I immediately stiffen.

His scent hits me wrong, making my head spin. I can’t bear to be near him, even more than normal.

Something's not right here.

The compound stretches out before us, more a graveyard than a home now.

Dad steers me around the back of the house where rows of beer kegs and crates wait like tombstones. Chairs and stools circle a fire pit that looks more like an execution ground. His preparations mock any hope of reaching Ben in time.

"How about now? Don’t want you getting cold feet."