Now You'll Never Be Safe

The Royal Gala blazed ahead like a beacon in the darkness, its golden light spilling across the Capital Pack's grand estate. But I never made it to the gates.

We're being followed, my wolf growled.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and felt my blood turn to ice. A black SUV with tinted windows had been maintaining the same distance behind me for the last ten miles, its headlights cutting through the forest darkness.

"Maybe it's just someone else heading to the gala," I whispered, but my wolf's snarl told me what I already knew in my bones.

No. Enemy.

The scent hit me then, even through the closed windows of my car—something metallic and cold, like steel and winter mornings. It was a scent I didn't recognize, but my wolf recoiled from it instinctively. Whoever was in that SUV wasn't from our pack, and they definitely weren't heading to any party.

I pressed harder on the accelerator, taking the next curve faster than was safe on these winding forest roads. The SUV matched my speed effortlessly, its powerful engine purring like a satisfied predator.

Turn off, my wolf urged. Take the old mining road.

I yanked the wheel right, tires squealing as I took the barely visible turnoff that led deeper into the forest. The narrow dirt road wound through dense pines, branches scraping against my windows like skeletal fingers. This route would take me away from the gala, but at least I could lose whoever was following me.

The headlights in my mirror disappeared for a moment, and hope flared in my chest. But then they were back, closer now, the SUV handling the rough terrain with an ease that spoke of modification and preparation.

They know these roads, my wolf realized, her fear bleeding into mine. This isn't random.

The moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting everything in silver and shadow. The forest pressed in on both sides, and I realized with growing horror that I was being herded—pushed deeper into territory where no one would hear me scream.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles went white. The mate bond in my chest flickered again, weak and distant. Where was Marcus? Why couldn't I feel him?

The black SUV surged closer, close enough that I could see the outline of multiple figures inside. I pressed my foot to the pedal, desperately trying to outrun the inevitable.

That's when I realized the brake pedal had gone soft.

No, no, no…

I pumped the brakes frantically, but my foot sank to the floor with each press, meeting no resistance. The steering wheel felt loose in my hands, the car's response sluggish and unnatural.

Danger, my wolf howled.

Time seemed to slow as understanding crashed over me. The casual way Marcus had left his jacket where I could find the invitation. His convenient absence tonight. The SUV that had found me so easily on these isolated roads.

Someone had tampered with my car.

Someone wanted me dead.

The speedometer climbed past sixty on the narrow dirt road, and I could see the sharp curve ahead—the one that bordered the ravine. At this speed, with no brakes and failing steering, there was only one possible outcome.

I yanked the wheel hard left, fighting the car's momentum, but it was like trying to redirect a boulder mid-fall. The vehicle barely responded, and I could smell the acrid scent of overheated metal and burning brake fluid.

The baby, my wolf whimpered, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around my stomach even as I fought for control.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the life growing inside me. "I'm so sorry."

The car hit a slope and rolled. Glass exploded inward as my window shattered, and I felt the sharp bite of fragments against my face and arms. The taste of blood filled my mouth as my head snapped forward, then back.

The steering wheel crushed against my ribs with each roll, and I felt something crack inside my chest. But my arms stayed locked around my stomach, even as my body was thrown around like a ragdoll.

The car's frame was twisted, as the metal rubbed against rocks as we tumbled down the ravine. My vision blurred, but I could still perceive the smell of gasoline.

Finally, we stopped.

I hung upside down, held in place by my seatbelt, blood dripping from my scalp to pool on the ceiling below. My breathing was becoming heavy and my left arm hung unusually. But I was alive.

The baby? my wolf whispered weakly.

I pressed my hands to my stomach, searching for any sign of injury there. No immediate pain or wetness that might indicate internal bleeding. But I needed a hospital to be sure.

Through the windshield, I could see headlights approaching the edge of the ravine above. The black SUV had stopped, and dark figures were emerging from it like shadows given form.

They stood there for long minutes, silhouetted against the moonlight, and I held my breath in the wreckage below.

One of them raised something to his face—binoculars or a scope—and I caught a glimpse of silver embroidery on his jacket. A pack insignia I couldn't quite make out from this distance, but the pattern seemed familiar in a way that made me scared.

Blood traitors, I snarled weakly. They smell like pack, but wrong.

After some minutes, the figures went to their vehicle. The engine roared to life, and I watched the headlights disappear back toward the main road, leaving me broken and bleeding in the darkness.

They hadn't come down to check on me. They hadn't called for help.

They'd simply verified that their job was done and left me to die.

As consciousness began to slip away at the edges, one last terrible thought crystallized in my mind: Marcus had known exactly what route I would take to find him.