Chapter One
Mal
On the Run
As the TV announcer drones on, I unconsciously chew my nails. I know it’s a bad habit, but I can’t stop.
Especially not now.
This seedy motel room south of Atlanta is all I can afford. I have less than five grand to my name, cash, and I have to make it last. The only reason I have that much is because Mom handed it to me before I left.
I wonder if Dad even knew she had that much cash on hand. I feel a little bad that it might have been her escape stash or something, but I’m willing to bet she’s too afraid of him to ever leave.
Doubly so after the events of this past nine days.
My nerves get the better of me, and I rise from the bed, pace to the door, and check the lock, deadbolt, and safety chain.
Again.
Not that they’d stop any of my brothers if they track me here. It’d barely slow them down.
I pace back to stand in front of the TV. The guy finally finishes his long-winded introduction.
“…And now, here is Randolph Sterling, candidate for the US House of Representatives, in his first TV interview.”
My body viscerally reacts as the camera pulls back and reveals my father’s cold smile where he sits in a chair across from the interviewer.
The same smile he gave me two days ago when he issued his ultimatum.
The same smile I’m sure he was wearing when he told my brothers I’m dead to them.
Meaning he wants me dead-dead.
“How are you tonight, Mr. Sterling?” the interviewer continues.
“I’m doing well, Carl, thank you.”
“You’ve been a successful businessman in Atlanta for thirty years. What prompted you to go into politics?”
“I decided it was time for me to get involved, hands-on, helping to make changes. Until now, I have contributed to political campaigns, but I want to do more. I want to represent my people.”
“You mean the residents of the Atlanta area?”
Dad slowly nods, that creepy smile still in place. “Yes, exactly.”
“Bullshit!” I’m alone but I startle myself saying it out loud.
What he’s not doing is telling anyone he’s a wolf shifter. Which is hysterical, because that was part of the whole plan, or so I was told.
Maybe he wants me dead first. Or maybe he’s decided to hold back that information until after he’s elected. I really don’t care why.
All I know is I need to get away from Atlanta. Not just put distance between myself and the metro area, but away from this state. The thing is I can’t reach out for help from any of my relatives or packmates—not that I think they will help even if I did—and Dad will likely have my brothers keeping tabs on all my friends.
And most of my friends’ parents are friends with my parents, so I can’t trust any of them. Not even the friends who I’m sure hate my father. It wouldn’t be their fault if their parents gave me up. Not when he’s so damned powerful and well-connected.
And he has a history of “problems” conveniently solving themselves…usually involving an obituary.
I finally change the channel and flop onto the bed. I’m resisting the urge to jump online and check the throwaway e-mail account I created yesterday, which I used to contact someone in the Savannah area for information.
