Page 4 of Into the Dawn (The Devil’s Claw #3)
4
VANESSA
B en reluctantly climbs into the passenger seat, and I take the keys, starting the truck and getting back on the road. I’m afraid to say much in case I end up in the back again.
We drive along in blessed silence, the truck’s steady hum punctuated by every jolt that makes Ben flinch and twitch. Each time his beloved truck is jostled, too near a branch or the edge of the road, I catch the tension in his body and the way his eyes narrow as he braces himself.
Ben never was a good passenger. He taught me how to drive, a lesson that nearly tore us apart, and ever since. To get under his skin, I deliberately look out the side window and take in the scenery, keeping my eyes off the road for a second longer than he likes. I chuckle to myself, watching as his big hand reaches out for the steering wheel.
His forearm flexes, muscles rippling under his tanned skin, as if he’s ready to wrest control back from me at the slightest provocation. Those arms, veiny and corded to perfection, adorned with dark tattoos and a faint scar, have always had a hold on me.
“Do you really think I’m that bad a driver, Ben?” I tease, partly to distract myself from his raw magnetism. “I travel this road every single day. I know it like the back of my hand.”
Grumbling, he releases his death grip on the black leather and forces himself to slide back over onto the passenger side. He sits as stiff as possible, pressing himself against the door, keeping as far away from me as he can manage. I can tell he’s mouth breathing to avoid my scent. I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or an insult.
“I don’t let anybody drive her,” he mutters. Then, almost as a reflex when I raise an eyebrow, he adds, “And it’s not a control thing.” I know this isn’t the first time someone’s prodded that nerve. “It’s just that this truck is the only thing I have that’s really mine.” His confession holds a note of possessiveness before softening his tone.
A pang of hurt stings me. I remember when he used to call me his, proudly and completely. Now, I can’t help but feel I’ve been replaced by a machine.
“I bought it just before I came back to Sutton,” he continues. “With the money I’d saved working in Whisper Cove.”
A quiet “Oh” escapes me, and he trails off. His eyes dart furtively to check if I’m still watching, then quickly return to the fading beauty outside as the sky deepens into night.
Shifting the topic delicately, I say, “I heard that you’d stayed away.”
His shoulders tense, and his arms fold tightly across his chest, a silent rebuff of the subject.
“So you stayed there then?” I press softly, my gaze fixed on the inky darkness outside. I knew he hadn’t come home immediately, but I never understood where he’d gone all those years that he wasn’t in Sutton.
Ben hesitates, swallowing hard. For a moment, it seems he might ignore my question, but finally, he admits, “I did, yeah. I stayed there for three years. Nice place, nice people. So why not? I needed a break from Sutton, and I couldn’t go home and deal with explaining…” His voice falters, and I can tell there’s more he’s holding back.
“So it was as good as we thought it would be?” I ask wistfully, remembering all those nights we agonized over where to run away together. We had it all planned out, a faraway haven in Whisper Cove with affordable housing, endless forests to roam, good schools for the future kids we talked about having, and a life we thought was our own.
Ben swivels his gaze to the side of my face, eyes narrowing as his dark, wavy hair falls across them. “What?” he snaps. “Are you serious?”
I cringe inwardly, wondering if I’d baited him intentionally, desperate for some burst of emotion.
“Of course, it wasn’t as good as we thought it would be,” he continues, incredulous. “It was very different to how I’d imagined it… because I was on my fucking own, Vanessa.”
My heart shatters as I watch his gorgeous features twist in pain and anger, and he curses, annoyed at himself for letting me see his hurt.
“I was all alone,” he confesses, his voice raw. “I had to pay rent on my own for the first six months before I found a roommate. And I was stuck in a quaint town where I knew fucking nobody, with a lease I couldn’t get out of without losing my entire life savings, and without my mate, the woman I thought loved me and was going to build a new life with me.”
In that moment, the weight of his loneliness crushes me. My mind drifts back to that night. I had been ready to meet him, trembling with excitement, heart pounding as I stepped out of my house.
But in the dim moonlight, I caught sight of Jed lurking in the shadows. His cold eyes locked onto mine, and with a slow, deliberate drag of his hand across his throat, he sent a silent, deadly threat my way. I knew then that if I went to Ben, if I tried to leave my shitty life behind, Jed would find a way to ruin it and to kill anyone who helped me leave.
So I walked away. I never showed up, and that choice, that betrayal, destroyed everything.
I struggle to choke back tears as I whisper, “I’m sorry.” My voice trembles with remorse, the apology feeling pitiful, even as it hangs in the cramped space of the cab.
Ben doesn’t reply. He doesn’t move a muscle. The conversation, heavy with unspoken grief and regret, is over.
For the remainder of the drive, we sit in oppressive silence, each lost in our own turbulent thoughts.
As the flickering lights of town come into view, including the compound where my family lives, a fresh wave of panic surges within me. I fear not only what might happen when I’m forced to hand Ben over, but also, the growing dread that I’m running out of time with him.
What if everything goes wrong? What if I lose him forever?
The anxiety overcomes me. “I can’t do this,” I blurt, voice shaking. “I can’t. What if you get hurt, Ben? What if I can’t do it?”
Before I sink any deeper into panic, Ben’s hand finds its way to my knee. His touch is gentle yet insistent, and a steady anchor in the storm of my thoughts.
“Keep driving, Vanessa,” he says softly. “This is the only way. I’m absolving you of all responsibility for what happens next.” His eyes, dark and sincere, search mine quickly before he returns to staring out the windscreen. “And I’m really hoping that you’re going to help me get John out. But as for what happens to me… that’s up to fate.”
I glance ahead and see the town’s lights growing brighter as the terror that I’m escorting my mate to his doom tightens around my chest. In a desperate bid for a moment of reprieve, I yank the steering wheel hard and make a sharp turn down a narrow, winding track that leads to my old, battered shack. It’s a sanctuary I’ve clung to over the years, a sliver of independence I had to fight for to save my sanity. It’s not much, but it’s mine, and there in the solitude of darkness, at least I can gather my thoughts.
“What are you doing, Vanessa?” Ben’s tone is laced with disbelief as he watches me veer off the main road in his mirror. “This isn’t the right way.”
Stubbornly, I press my lips into a thin line and say nothing.
“You’re just delaying the inevitable,” he says. “And what if they find us here? No one’s going to believe you subdued me if I’m sitting here, drinking coffee in your house like we’re having the world’s most awkward sleepover.”
I force a wry smile. This is unbearably awkward, but it’s better than handing him over. I just can’t do it right now. I need to think.
“I just need tonight to gather my thoughts and plan exactly what I’m going to say. Tensions will be too high if we walk in there now. They’ve probably been boozing all day.”
Ben squints into the darkness, unconvinced.
“Nobody’s going to be looking for me, not with injured and lost shifters to worry about. Tomorrow, with a clear head and a solid plan, I’ll walk you straight into camp. But tonight… I can’t risk them killing you on sight. I’m not willing to take that chance.”
As I park the truck and turn off the lights, the moon casts a pale glow into the cab, highlighting the gulf between us and the years of shared history, now fractured by our failures and fears. I look over at him, the only man I’ve ever truly loved, and search his eyes for any sign of the warmth we once shared.
After a long, heavy pause, Ben finally relents. “Fine,” he says, a tired resolve in his tone as he reaches for the door handle. “I’m not going to pass up one last night sleeping on a comfortable mattress. But tomorrow, Vanessa, we do this. No more stalling.” He hesitates, then adds quietly, “I can’t live with myself if I know John’s suffering while I’m here playing house.”