Page 28

The clock on the wall ticked louder with every passing second. 11:47 PM.

I lay perfectly still, listening to Lacey's slow, even breaths. The facility was eerily quiet—no screams tonight, just the occasional shuffle of orderlies making their rounds. My heart pounded so hard I was sure it would wake her.

Thirteen minutes.

I'd spent the last three hours debating Dominic's offer.

Part of me knew this was insane—breaking out of a psychiatric facility, running from the one place that was supposed to help me.

But the other part, the part that had spent days listening to Rachel's whispers and Lacey's mad humming, knew I couldn't stay.

Not when every shadow in this place felt like it was watching me.

Five minutes.

I slipped out of bed, my bare feet silent against the cold linoleum. My hands trembled as I pulled on the hoodie I'd stolen from the lost and found—dark gray, nondescript. Perfect for hiding.

Lacey's voice cut through the dark.

"You'll regret it."

I froze. She was sitting up in bed, her hollow eyes gleaming in the dim emergency light.

"Go back to sleep, Lacey," I whispered.

She tilted her head, her grin stretching too wide. "He's not just a wolf, you know."

My blood turned to ice. How does she—

A knock at the door made us both jump.

"Elaine?" A nurse's voice. "You awake?"

I dove back into bed just as the door cracked open. A flashlight beam swept across the room. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my breathing to slow. After an eternity, the door clicked shut. I waited. Counted to sixty. Then, moving like a ghost, I crept to the door and peered into the hallway.

Empty.

The fire exit was at the end of the hall, past the nurses' station. I could see the red glow of the EXIT sign from here. But Greg was slumped in a chair at the desk, flipping through a magazine.

Damn it.

Then—

CRASH.

A sound like shattering glass echoed from the common room. Greg shot to his feet and hurried toward the noise.

Now.

I bolted down the hall, my socked feet slipping on the polished floor. The fire exit loomed ahead, its alarm disabled—had Dominic done that?—and then I was shoving through the door into the freezing night.

The cold air hit me like a slap. Moonlight spilled over the empty parking lot, illuminating the chain-link fence at the edge of the property. And there, leaning against it with his arms crossed, was Dominic.

His head snapped up when he saw me. In three long strides, he was at my side, his hands gripping my shoulders.

"You came," he breathed, like he hadn't been sure I would.

I swallowed hard. "What was that noise inside?"

His lips curled in a faint smirk. "Distraction."

Before I could ask what he meant, a howl cut through the night—long, low, and close. Too close to be a dog. Dominic went rigid. His eyes flashed gold.

"We need to go. Now." He grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the trees. Behind us, the facility's alarms blared to life. And then, from somewhere in the dark, another howl answered.

Closer this time.

Hungrier.