Page 49 of Moon Destiny
His eyes were flat, completely devoid of the humorous spark he’d occasionally displayed over the past week. “If I have to come fetch you, I’m not going to be happy about it.”
My heart pounded loudly in my ears. I tried for a casual tone. “I-I’ll come with you,” I lied. “I just want to know where we’re going.”
Abruptly, his mouth twisted, anger flashing in his eyes. “Do you know how fucking irritating it’s been, trotting you out every day?” He stepped toward me, but it felt more like aggression than pursuit. “This should have been easy.”
“What should have been easy?” I asked, but on some level I already knew. He hadn’t been teaching me to track. He’d been luring me away from the house. “You’re working with the rogues,” I whispered.
There was a faint click behind me, and then something hard pressed into my spine. I didn’t need to see it to know it was the barrel of a gun.
Dylan’s voice echoed in my memory. “No self-respecting shifter uses a human weapon.”
Julia spoke closely enough behind me to stir my hair. “Wrong, bitch. We are the rogues.” There was a whoosh of air. Pain exploded in my skull.
I crumpled to the ground.
Blackness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BROOKE
The next time I regained consciousness, I opened my eyes and gazed around blearily. I was in some kind of motel room and, judging from the outdated decor and the smell of stale cigarettes, it definitely wasn’t the Four Seasons. But I was alive. That was good.
The sound of cars on a nearby highway filled the room, the sound so persistent I could almost feel the rush of wind as vehicles flew past. I was stretched out on one of two queen-size beds, and my arms were tied to the headboard.
I really had to stop waking up like this.
The back of my skull throbbed like a bruise. I rolled my head on the pillow, trying to gauge how badly I was hurt. Julia must have pistol whipped me. And Tanner had led me away from the house. With a jolt, I realized he’d been doing it all along, coaxing me to the creek to kill any trails Hugh could use to find me.
My heart began to thump painfully. Hugh had called the rogues “purists.” They believed they were superior to humans—and turned humans. Tanner and Julia could have killed me in the forest. They’d had the perfect opportunity. Yet they hadn’t. I didn’t want to think about what that meant.
An ache bloomed in my chest, and it had nothing to do with the pain in my head. Out of nowhere, tears filled my eyes. What if I never saw Hugh again? There was a real chance of that happening, and suddenly the thought of it was far worse than any physical injury.
The door opened, letting in a wave of gasoline-scented air as Tanner and Julia entered. A tall, dark-haired man followed on their heels. He drew my gaze like a lodestone, but I ignored him while I tried to get a glimpse of the scenery outside—anything to give me an idea of a location. I strained against my bonds, spying a highway overpass and an empty parking lot littered with glass. Weeds sprouted among cracks in the pavement. It was still daylight outside, which meant we couldn’t have traveled that far from Bosford.
The door swung shut, enclosing me with three werewolves.
Because the newcomer was a wolf. I knew it the second I met his gaze. His lips curved, and a blast of power hit me straight between the eyes like a fiery arrow notching into my forehead. I gasped and jerked my head to the side as nausea made my stomach pitch.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to Tanner. “Were you followed?” His voice was deep and melodious, and under other circumstances I might have found it pleasant.
“No, sir,” Tanner said. “I’m sure of it.”
Sir? I held my breath as the stranger approached, because this could only be Rourke Villadsen, the leader of the rogues. His shadow fell over me, his big body blocking out the sunlight streaming through the sole window. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected him to look like, but he didn’t fit the stereotype of a typical villain. Like all the wolves I’d met, he was fit and muscular. But he was also boyishly handsome, with thick, brown hair and a square jaw. His eyes were the color of a clear morning sky. He looked more like the captain of a lacrosse team than a criminal mastermind.
Belatedly, I realized I was staring, and I turned my head away before he could flex his power again.
“No,” he said softly. “Look at me.” His power cracked like a whip, forcing my head back so quickly I winced.
I glared, not caring if he retaliated. He was going to hurt me anyway. I wasn’t going to hide my loathing. He’d killed Alex—or at least ordered the attack.
He smiled, unbothered by my dislike. “So you’re the reason Dalton has lost his edge. A tale as old as time, I guess.” He leaned a hip on the bed. “I’ve had spies in his pack for over a year, waiting for him to slip up or lose focus.”
I darted a look at Tanner and Julia, who watched from a corner of the dingy room.
“Yes, them.” Rourke tilted his head. “You think they’re traitors.”
I didn’t answer. He didn’t care what I thought. He was just luring me into an argument so he could tell me why I was wrong. But there was another reason to hold my tongue. Early in my journalism career, I’d learned that keeping my mouth shut could be just as effective as asking questions. Confronted with silence, most people couldn’t resist the impulse to fill it. And sometimes they ended up spilling all sorts of secrets in the process.
