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CHAPTER FIVE

GRACE

L ook, I’m no survivalist. I can admit I’m even a spoiled brat. But even I’m not na?ve enough to not notice the way this monster is herding me. He’s been at it for at least an hour, maybe more. And at this pace, I’m going to pass out.

I’m not an athlete, so I can only maintain a staggering run for a few minutes at a time, in fitful starts, but now I can barely pretend to run.

I’m walking while being watched, and it makes my skin crawl.

I lean against my stick not just for physical support, but also for moral support.

The weapon allows me to pretend I stand a chance against him.

My masked stalker. I have to hand it to him, he’s not only a freak of nature because he’s my masked stalker, he’s also an Olympic-level champion when it comes to seeking and destroying.

He’s not only persistent, he’s outwitted me and could easily outrun me.

Which means I’m walking straight into a trap.

I’m just too afraid to think where it may be, wherever he’s leading me. Or worse, who ever he’s leading me to.

As I venture deeper into the city, the forest long gone on the path I’m on, I start to piece together where it might be.

Probably one of these abandoned warehouses that look like they used to store tanks, lining each side of the street.

They’re so huge that they look like iron giants next to the houses and shops.

At least, the remnants of houses and shops.

I wonder if they were barracks of sorts, these warehouses.

I mean, the worst of the worst were kept here: serial killers, terrorists, and even war criminals.

It makes sense to me more and more as I mull over it, why Providence is so fortified like an army base.

My shoes smash into branches, glass, and scrape against thorns on the overgrown road, and I’m so thankful the monster salvaged my pumps from the sea, even though my calves burn like hell.

They’re not doing much to protect the top of my battered feet, but they’re keeping me from opening up a gash that will surely get infected.

Focus, Grace. You got a hellhound on your heels—no time to think about anything else, or you might break an ankle.

They are throbbing, and I hate the fact that the fox was right. I should’ve tried to run or even walk. But what choice did I have? It was either that or succumb to whatever lunacy a serial killer would’ve demanded.

I round a corner and jerk to a stop, almost crumbling to the ground from the sheer agony of the charley horses trying to rip the tendons out of my calves.

The muscle spasms force me to lean against my branch as I hit a wall–literally—a dead end.

I’m standing at a literal dead end. A colossal wall of turned-over machinery blocks the path, blocking it off from escape.

They’re so overgrown with plants and moss that I can’t even tell if what I’m looking at is more nature or machine. Doesn’t matter. He’s already behind me.

“Caught you, princess,” he whispers.

This time I don’t fight. What’s the point when I can barely stand?

The fox-masked alpha drops from the sky, probably from some building he scaled like a monkey.

He snatches me up, and the lizard part of my brain does attempt to fight despite my rational mind saying it’s a lost cause, kicking, scratching, biting, and yelling like a wild animal.

But it does nothing. He doesn’t move. He’s more solid than the wall before us.

He doesn’t even flinch when I twist enough to slap him.

He licks the blood off his lips–I cut him with a jagged nail–and smiles, “Gentle… My omega. It’ll be alright soon.”

Is he asking me to be gentle? If so, he can go fuck himself. I won’t be gentle when he’s ready to abuse me. I expect him to palm my breasts and do his worst, just like the wolf. But instead, he maneuvers me until he’s carrying me bridle style, cradling me close to his sturdy chest.

“Gentle,” he murmurs again, and I realize it’s for his ears rather than mine. He’s reminding himself to be gentle with me. But I guess they have different definitions here since he’s squeezing the life out of me. He wants to be gentle with me while he leads me to a pack of wolves. What a hypocrite.

Or foxes, I guess. I still don’t know the reason behind the masks the alphas I’ve met here wear but they seem more than important.

Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore. I’ve failed my sister by failing myself. I close my eyes, not wanting to see my demise.

I’m so sorry, Faith…