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ONE

Dillon

I groan as I blink my eyes open and stare up at the ceiling. It takes me a minute to realize that I’m in a hospital and that the annoying beeping is the monitor next to me.

The last thing I remember is the wolf and Mabel screaming.

Then everything went black.

Mabel. Where’s Mabel?

I shift in the bed and wince. Every part of my body hurts, and I whimper as I try to sit up.

A man rushes forward. “Easy. Take it easy.”

I blink and stare up at the strange man. I search my brain, trying to figure out if I know him, but he’s unfamiliar.

“Did I hit my head?” I blurt out.

He nods. “Yeah, your head and about every other part of your body.”

I wonder what he means by that, but it’s not a priority.

“Mabel. She’s my friend. Is she here? Is she okay?”

“She was released late last night and is with my friend, Miles. She’ll be back as soon as visiting hours start.”

“She was okay, though? She’s all right?”

“Yeah, she had a few bruises and cuts and a broken rib, but she’s all right.”

“Thank God,” I breathe, relaxing on the bed again.

“Do you need anything? I’ll call the doctor.”

“Water,” I croak.

He hits the button for the nurse’s desk and sits in the chair next to my bed. I want to ask him who he is, but before I can, the door opens, and a nurse bustles in.

“Hi, dear. Welcome back,” she says with a kind smile. “You’ve been out for some time.”

“I have?”

She nods. “It’s almost seven in the morning, and you came in yesterday around noon.”

I lost that much time?

“Oh.”

“How are you feeling? Can you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

“Um, two or three. It’s a dull ache.”

“That’s good,” she says, her gaze darting to the man.

They share a knowing look, and I frown. So many questions are running through my brain.

Why was I out for so long? What are my injuries? If I hit every part of my body, why don’t I feel worse?

I try to remember what happened, but it’s all a blur.

I remember leaving Idaho with my best friend, Mabel.

We were finally making our escape from our small town.

We were excited, talking about where to stay for the night.

I remember the car starting to overheat and us turning off the highway.

We planned to stop in a little town, check on the car, stretch our legs, and grab a bite to eat.

I remember turning onto a dirt road and looking for something. But what?

I search my memory, feeling anxious the longer it takes to remember.

What was I looking for? We were talking about getting gas and food and I…

My wallet! I was grabbing my wallet to pay for the gas. I looked out the window and saw that weird wolf with yellow eyes. I swear they were almost glowing, but that’s ridiculous.

Then the crash happened.

The monitor beeps like crazy as I recall the details,

The stranger steps forward, leaning over me, concern in his intense blue eyes. “Take a deep breath.”

“The wolves,” I whisper.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wolves?”

“They ran in front of the car.”

“We know. Mabel told us about them.”

I take a deep breath, trying to remember what happened after the accident, but come up blank.

I remember everything before the accident, so I know I don’t have memory issues.

Unfortunately. Because I have more than a few childhood memories I’d love to erase from my mind.

I was born in Idaho. My mom raised me, though “raised” is a generous way to describe growing up with her.

I was the result of a one-night stand—one of many for my mom.

She couldn’t remember who my biological dad was, and I gave up looking for him when I was eleven.

Chances are that he wasn’t a great guy. My mom’s taste in men was always questionable.

She jumped from one guy to the next, broke up marriages, and paid more attention to her latest boyfriend than me.

When I was older, it stopped bothering me so much that we weren’t close.

What I hated was when her dates tried to mess with me.

Some seemed to like tormenting me, but a few flirted with me or tried to break into my room at night.

I was old enough to know how inappropriate their behavior was and tried to tell my mom a few times, but she never believed me. She never protected me.

I lived in fear of what they might do to me.

So Mabel and I planned our escape. We were raising ourselves, working part-time jobs, and doing everything possible to save money.

Mabel’s dad was never around. He would leave for months at a time on a bender before returning to crash at their house.

He worked long enough to get a paycheck and then disappeared again.

I was worried about being attacked at my house, so I spent most of my time with Mabel.

Our lives were always easier when he was away.

“Do you want to get up and try to use the bathroom?” the nurse asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay. Take it slowly,” she says, helping from the bed.

The man takes one of my arms as I slide off the hospital bed and shuffle toward the bathroom door.

“Got it from here?” the nurse asks.

I nod.

The man looks like he wants to follow me into the bathroom, but I close the door before he can try. What’s up with him? His uniform tells me he’s an EMT, but what is he doing here? Surely, an attractive guy like that has a girlfriend or family waiting for him at home.

I take care of business and wash my hands, wincing at my reflection in the mirror over the sink.

My face and arms are covered in bruises and cuts.

I run my finger gently over a scratch on my forehead, and my gaze catches on a mark on my neck.

I frown, tugging the hospital gown lower to see it more clearly.

“Is that a…”

Fuck. It is.

It’s a bite mark.

How the hell did that get on my neck? Did one of the wolves bite me?

I run my fingers over the mark and shiver as sensations flood my body.

A knock sounds at the door. It opens before I can say anything, and the man steps in behind me.

Our eyes lock in the mirror.

My hand falls from the bite mark. “How?”

He swallows hard. “I can explain.”

I frown. “Explain what?”