Page 102

Nate

I had a difficult time getting to sleep. My head was still spinning with everything I’d learned. For an hour, I lay there, staring at the dark ceiling and imagining my parents.

For my entire life, I’d assumed they were deadbeats, junkies who’d tossed me out so they’d have more money for their habit. Or perhaps they were immature and too stupid to realize what a commitment a child was and cut their losses. Those were the images I’d held in my mind.

Now, with the information Cameron had given me, the image had changed. Altered in a way I could barely imagine.

What would my life have been like with parents who had wanted me, had loved me?

Hugs and kisses from my mother before being tucked in, my dad swinging me around the living room, both of us laughing until we cried.

A mother and father, grinning happily as I opened the gifts Santa had brought me for Christmas.

As I imagined these scenarios, a bone-deep sadness and shame filled me.

Sadness that I couldn’t remember those moments, and shame that I’d held hate for them in my heart for so long—hate they didn’t deserve.

The very fact that I’d survived the car going off the bridge meant they’d probably used their final breaths to make sure I got out of the car alive.

They would have been the ones who’d gotten me out of my car seat or seatbelt and out the door or window.

A selfless sacrifice of love, and I’d spent the better part of two decades cursing their names. Even though I couldn’t have known, it still felt like a heartbreaking betrayal.

After wallowing in self-pity longer than I wanted, I rolled out of bed and got dressed.

My phone sat on the nightstand, and when I glanced at it, I had the sudden and inexplicable urge to call Cameron.

It was far too early for that, though. I didn’t want to wake her.

We’d see each other in a few hours at the hearing, anyway.

I turned the phone on silent and tucked it into the inner pocket of my leather jacket before heading downstairs. The hotel was a little nicer than what I usually booked. I’d splurged a bit, and was happy to find a complimentary breakfast buffet set up in the lobby.

After pouring myself a large cup of black coffee and heaping my plate with bacon, eggs, and toast, I took a table by the window and watched the sun begin its steady rise out of the east. It was the most peaceful and calm I’d felt in days, and I allowed myself to enjoy it.

At least, it was as peaceful and calm as I’d been without Cameron by my side.

Being near her soothed my psyche. When I was with her, I could almost fully let go and relax.

I always had trouble with that. Each moment, each day, was a fight for survival.

That constant stress had forced me to stay tense and alert so I’d be ready for anything.

Over time, that got to a person. I’d never really understood that until I met Cameron.

When I left the hotel, the sun had crested the horizon, bathing the city in a steady orange glow.

Again, I contemplated calling Cameron, but decided a phone call was still too awkward.

I’d swing by and double-check her apartment.

JC’s guys were probably great at what they were doing, but nothing would be as good as watching over her myself.

Not in my head, at least. I could talk to JC’s men and find out if they’d noticed anything strange.

As I walked out of the hotel, my bag slung over my shoulder, I froze. My bike stood on the curb, fully repaired and gleaming.

“What the fuck?” I muttered.

A valet hurried over. “Mr. Zane?”

“Huh? I mean, yeah. That’s me.”

“Excellent, sir,” he said, holding out a set of keys. “Your motorcycle was delivered overnight, along with this.” He held out an envelope.

Frowning, I took both items. The man strolled back to the valet stand, and I tore open the letter.

Nate,

I hope you don’t mind. I had some of my guys recover your ride from that alley behind the store.

Your front wheel was totally mangled, along with the front brakes.

One of my pack members has a garage, and I had him put this as a high priority.

No offense, but that sedan you’ve been driving doesn’t really suit you. Enjoy.

– JC

“Holy shit.”

Grinning, I shoved my stuff into the saddle bag and slung my leg over. It was a little like coming home. My helmet was missing, but I’d take my chances. The roar of the bike sent a happy thrill through my chest, and I pulled out, heading toward Cameron’s place.

The glorious freedom of riding my bike again vanished as I pulled up in front of Cameron’s apartment complex. Two of JC’s men stood outside, worried expressions on their faces. Something wasn’t right. Something was horribly wrong.

I jumped off my bike and sprinted over, catching the tail end of a phone conversation.

“I can’t get a hold of Sam. He was supposed to check in as soon as she was dropped off?—”

I yanked on his shoulder, cutting him off. “Where’s Cameron? Is she all right?” Panic flared in my stomach, acidic and bitter.

The guy flinched away from me and raised his hand as if to strike out, but recognized me at the last moment. His shoulders slumped, and he shook his head.

“She needed some stuff at the office. We called her an Uber, and Sam followed her. He’s not responding,” he said.

The other guy piped up, reading something from his phone. “ Shit . JC sent Alec and a couple other guys to double-check, but there’s a massive pile-up on the highway. The guys are having a hard time getting through.”

Cameron was in trouble. Again. And again , I wasn’t there.

Without another word, I sprinted back to my bike and sped off toward her office.

The wind whipped through my hair as I threw all caution out the window, amping the bike up to over hundred-and-twenty kilometers per hour.

I bobbed and weaved through the traffic.

At one point, I leapt onto the sidewalk to maneuver around the slowdown in traffic.

People honked and screamed at me, and cyclists and joggers dodged aside as I sped past them.

By the time I arrived at the office, my teeth were bared, lips pulled back in a worried snarl.

I’d managed the twenty-minute drive in under seven minutes.

Even that type of speed wasn’t enough. I imagined a massive hourglass in my mind, every grain ticking away, and as each one fell, there was another chance I’d be too late.

Recalling the layout from when Ollie and I had questioned Cameron, I knew there was a guard desk in the lobby. I had no time to talk my way into the building. I’d have to risk making a run for it.

Inside, I caught a break. The security guard was in the middle of explaining something to an irate older woman.

I sprinted across the floor, skirting the desk and rushing for the elevators, skidding into one as the doors closed.

If the guard had spotted me, no alarm sounded.

Thankfully, the elevator car was empty, and no one had to deal with me tapping my feet and cursing the floors to go by faster.

The minute the doors opened on her floor, I rushed out, catching Cameron’s scent as I did. No one looked up at the leather-clad man sprinting through their newsroom. Everyone was too busy with their work to give me a second glance.

As her scent grew stronger, a second scent caught my attention. One that sent terror jolting into my chest.

Rick was here.

Down a short hall lined with offices that were still dark, I caught the faint sounds of a struggle. If not for my enhanced hearing, I wouldn’t have noticed it.

I ran to the door, then kicked it in, releasing every ounce of shifter strength I had.

The solid wooden door burst inward, and I found Cameron.

She stood with her back to the wall, her hand to her throat.

Rick was scrambling to his feet. He turned his baleful gaze upon me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“Bad choice, motherfucker,” I growled.

I leaped forward, slamming my shoulder into his stomach as I tackled him to the floor.

Rick brought his fists down onto my back, knocking some of the wind from me.

Jesus, he was strong. Before I could recover, he kicked my knee.

Had I been human, my leg would have snapped like a stick beneath the power of that kick. How on earth was he so strong?

The blaring of the fire alarm made Rick and me freeze. Looking up, I saw Cameron had pulled a bright red lever. The klaxon sounds and strobing lights disoriented Rick long enough for me to kick him away, and I shifted into my wolf form.

Snapping my jaws, I nipped Rick’s forearm, drawing a small line of blood.

“Rabid fucking animal!” he shouted.

He made to shift, but couldn’t control it.

The transformation stopped before it was fully complete, and I gaped at the blasphemous mixture of man and wolf before me.

Rick stood on wolf-shaped legs, but his torso remained human, his hands a chaotic cross between paws and fingers.

His face was slightly elongated, canine teeth in rows behind human teeth.

One eye was a yellow wolf’s, the other one human.

He looked like a nightmare vision of a shifter.

Some twisted creature that didn’t belong.

After my initial shock wore off, I snarled and pounced on him, clamping my teeth on his chest and driving him backward.

He let out a guttural scream and fell back, smashing over some kind of machine I’d only seen in movies.

The pain of my bite must have finally snapped him out of whatever madness he was in, and he managed to shift fully.