Page 7 of Locke

“I can’t visit much more; it’s dangerous,” I interrupted. “Every time I come it’s a risk.”

I make my family meet me in the countryside of Venezuela at a cottage. I can’t take the risk of them to getting caught with me.My enemies could find them, hurt them, kill them. I would never let that happen.

“It’s for the best to get you all up here. I’m going to get this done. Give me a month and I’ll have this guy.”

I could hear Elena’s big, hooped earrings clinking against the phone.

“Sí, chica es loca, you know that? I can’t believe I’m related to you.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, your older, cooler sister, who is going to kick some major ass. Now, are you ready for the name of this guy?”

My sister had one request of me when I started the job: she wanted to know their names. It was like she wanted to bear part of the burden; of knowing who was going to come into custody with me, or die.

“Yup, let’s hear it.” She perked up.

“I only got a first name. He apparently doesn’t have a last name.”

“Makes it all that much better. Might be a code name.”

I snorted. “Lame. Anyway, the name of the guy I’m after is—Locke.”

Chapter Three

Locke

Our mouth tasted coppery whenever I came into consciousness. I’m out most of the time, but when I wake, I taste the remnants of what my wolf has consumed. Mostly meat, horrifyingly, rotten meat.

I don’t know if he’s killed an animal or a human. It tastes terrible and maybe that’s why I haven’t come to the surface to see what he has been doing. Plus, it’s too hard to fight him.

I’ve lost track of time. I don’t know if it has been days, weeks. Hell, it might have been months, but I’m tired of living. Maybe my wolf is, too, because he’s not been taking care of himself.

Insects have infested us, causing our hair to become manged, falling out in clumps, and our teeth to ache.

An unquenchable appetite, a relentless craving that fuels his wrath, consumes him. Always on the prowl, his growls echothrough the eerie silence of the night. Perhaps, fatigued from ceaseless pursuit, he reluctantly feasts on carcasses.

I groaned inside him, frustrated with it all. They should have killed me.

Our bloody paws trampled the leaves. They left the crimson droplets of blood behind us as we took our large, mangled body through the woods. I could smell something different, something strangely feminine yet tropical, as we came closer to the lake we like to lie by during the day.

I’ve smelled it before while I’ve slept, but this was the first time I’ve had the nerve to be awake for it.

Struggling for breath, he quickened his pace; blood trickling down his forehead. Seeking respite from the scorching mid-day sun, he found solace in a dense bush, with its foliage shielding him. He wedged himself snugly between two towering bushes, felt their roughness against his skin and exhaled a weary sigh, finding a moment to relax.

My wolf was completely still, not normal for him - unless he was hunting. Yet, his heart was not racing, he wasn’t on his haunches, ready to strike. He was staring out at the lake, watching the ripples of the water spin outward like someone was swimming in it.

Who the hell was swimming in the lake? Let alone in the fucking forest?

I gritted my teeth. My wolf must have noticed my agitation because I felt the hair stand up on his neck.

Could he feel my emotions?

But hell, the club can’t do shit without me. I told them, explicitly, not to let anyone in the forest if I somehow got out - if any rabid got out - and look at this. Some fucking person—

My wolf crawled forward, our snout pushing through the bushes to see what exactly was swimming.He must have knownwho, because he was whimpering, and when his head pushed out he cocked his head and sawher.

A female.

She glided across the water, like a smooth, light-colored amber stone. The light reflected off her bare back as she was wading in the cool water.