Chapter 38
Shepard
Gus doesn’t want to cooperate tonight.
“Come on, buddy,” I mutter, crouching beside his crate. My hand rubs along his ears, scratching that one spot that always makes him grunt, but he only presses his nose stubbornly against my knee and refuses to move.
His tail wags, but his body stays planted.
I sigh, rubbing at my temple. My bag is already half-packed by the door—first aid kit, flashlight, extra water bottles, a change of clothes. Just enough in case things in town spiral further.
The orange glow seeping in through the blinds makes my chest tighten. This isn’t just another brush fire. The air outside smells wrong, like chemicals burning alongside wood, like something planned instead of accidental.
“Gus,” I whisper again, coaxing, pulling out the blanket I keep inside the crate. He noses it, then huffs, and finally, reluctantly, climbs inside.
I latch the door, feeling guilty for locking him in, but the thought of him running loose while the world burns makes my stomach lurch. I shoulder my bag, check my phone—no new updates—and push the door open.
The sky outside bleeds with smoke, heavy and thick, and ash drifts down like morbid snow. My lungs tighten as I inhale, my throat stinging. This isn’t contained. It’s spreading fast.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath, jogging to the car. My glasses fog at the corners with the heat, and I wipe them against my sleeve. This is bad. Really bad.
Before I slide in, I thumb my phone to call Marjorie. My heart knocks against my ribs as it rings once, twice—
“Shepard?” Her voice cuts through, a little breathless but steady. Relief floods me.
“Marjorie. You okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Millie’s here too. We’ve shut all the windows. Don’t worry about us, dear.”
I close my eyes, exhaling shakily. “Good. Stay that way. Don’t open for anyone.”
She hesitates. “And you?”
“I’m… fine,” I lie. “I’ll check in later.”
I hang up before she can press further, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat. My foot slams the gas.
Sadie insisted she could handle waiting alone, making tea, pretending the world outside wasn’t falling apart. But I know her.
I know the way her hands twist when she’s anxious, how her smile trembles at the edges when she’s trying to be brave. My chest tightens.
She shouldn’t be alone. Not tonight.
I pull into her street, headlights washing over shapes that make me slow. A line of cars is parked outside her house. Too many. None of them familiar.
My stomach knots.
I park half a block down, kill the engine. Every instinct in me screams.
The front door isn’t just closed—it rattles with sound. Shouting. Male voices, rough, cutting through the walls.
My pulse spikes.
I adjust my glasses with shaking fingers, creeping closer until I’m just below the window. My palms are damp, the bag on my shoulder suddenly too heavy. Slowly, carefully, I rise enough to peek inside.
And the sight knocks the air from my lungs.
They’re in there. Four massive men, their frames crowding her living room. Sadie is on the floor, pinned, two men holding her down like she’s prey.
One crouches close, his hand on her thigh, his mouth twisted into a sick grin that even from this distance makes bile rise in my throat. That must be Scott.
My chest goes ice-cold.
She’s struggling, her hair sticking to her face, her voice hoarse as she spits, “Don’t touch me!”
And they laugh. They fucking laugh.
Every muscle in my body wants to move. Wants to break down that door, throw myself between them and her, do something reckless and stupid because she’s there and I can’t stand this.
But then the other thought claws through me, sharp and brutal.
I can’t die here.
Not like this. Not pinned against four Alphas who could tear me apart without breaking a sweat. Not when Gus is in the car waiting.
Not when I’d leave her behind anyway, because if I fall, she falls too.
I grip the siding of the house, my knuckles white. Fuck. Fuck.
My mind races. Call someone? But who? 911 will be swamped, every available unit stretched thin across Driftwood trying to keep the town from burning to the ground. Even if someone picked up, by the time they got here—
Her scream rips through the window. My body jolts like I’ve been electrocuted.
Gus barks from the car, sharp and urgent, the sound carrying down the street.
The heads inside snap up. Scott rises slow, dragging his hand over Sadie’s jaw before he jerks her upright by the arm. They haul her with them, her feet scraping across the floor, her body straining against their hold.
My stomach caves.
“No…” The word slips out, strangled.
The door bursts open, and the night swallows them. Four massive shapes spilling into the street, Sadie dragged between them, her hair flying as she twists, kicks, fights.
Her voice cuts through the smoke, raw and furious: “Let me go!”
My breath lodges in my throat.
I can’t move. My legs are locked, my body pressed into the shadows as they pass. The streetlight catches the sharp angle of Scott’s grin, the cold amusement in the last youngest-looking Alpha’s eyes as he tosses the mug aside and it shatters on the ground.
Her eyes flick up—just once, just enough. Wide, desperate. She sees me. I know she does.
And I do nothing.
The horror of that truth claws down my spine.
My chest heaves, panic flooding every nerve as they shove her toward one of the waiting cars. My fists curl, nails digging into my palms until I taste copper in the back of my throat.
I can’t die here.
But fuck if I can let them take her.
My hand fumbles for my phone, fingers slick, screen glowing against the darkness. My brain screams to pick a name—Boone, Gabe, anyone—but the words blur, my vision swimming.
Gus barks again, frantic, as if he knows what’s about to happen.
And I feel it too. True fear, sharp and consuming, as I watch them shove Sadie into the backseat and the car doors slam shut.
They see me.
I know the second their heads snap in my direction, four sets of eyes cutting through the dark, locking onto me where I crouch in the shadows.
My lungs seize. My legs want to run but I can’t move.
“You think we don’t smell you?” the tallest one snarls, his voice a low rasp that vibrates through the night. “Come out.”
My heart slams so hard I feel it in my throat. My hands shake as I fumble for my phone. My thumb slides over the screen until I find the camera and hit record.
The red dot blinks back at me, the only thing between me and disappearing without a trace.
I force my voice out, rough and cracking. “Let her go.”
Sadie’s scream cuts from the backseat of the truck, muffled by the glass but sharp enough to slice through me. My stomach turns over.
The biggest one laughs. He’s built like a wall, shoulders filling the frame of the streetlight. “Or what?” he sneers, stepping forward.
“Or I—” My voice falters. I tighten my grip on the phone. “The cops will see this. They’ll know. Everyone will know.”
He bares his teeth, amused, while the others spread out around him. The fight hits me before I can think.
The first one lunges, and instinct takes over. I swing, my knuckles cracking against cartilage, and blood spurts down his face. He howls, clutching his nose, staggering back.
Adrenaline floods me. I pivot, slam my elbow into another’s jaw. He drops, spitting red onto the pavement.
But there are too many.
Hands clamp around my arms, wrenching them back until my shoulders scream. A fist drives into my ribs, white-hot pain exploding. My glasses slide down my nose, the world tilting.
“Get the phone,” one of them snarls.
I twist, shove my head forward, and the crunch of bone gives me savage satisfaction. Another nose broken. His scream echoes in my skull, but victory is short-lived.
A boot slams into my stomach. Air whooshes out of me in a strangled cry. My phone clatters onto the asphalt, the screen glowing faintly.
“Fucking weakling,” someone spits, and then the blows rain down. My arms are pinned, my body a punching bag. My head snaps back, warm liquid filling my mouth, metallic and bitter. My chest rattles, every breath agony.
And then the blade flashes.
Cold steel slices across my side, sharp and deep, tearing through fabric, through skin. The world tunnels, heat flooding the wound, pain radiating outward in waves.
I choke on the scream but it rips free anyway. My knees buckle. My hands are useless claws, scrabbling against asphalt slick with blood.
Through the blur I see them dragging Sadie tighter into the truck. Her fists slam against the glass, her mouth open in another scream I can’t hear.
“No—” The word is broken, weak. I can’t get enough air.
The phone.
My fingers, numb and trembling, crawl across the ground until I brush the screen. The red light still blinks. Thank God. With what little strength I have, I swipe upward, hit send, attach it to the thread I had open.
My thumb barely makes contact. The whoosh sound is faint, almost imagined. Please. Please let it go through.
The world is hazy. My vision swims, the edges dark.
The truck door slams. Tires squeal. They’re leaving. With her.
I try to lift my head but it drops back against the pavement. The taste of blood thick in my mouth, my chest heaving in shallow, stuttering gasps.
My phone slips from my fingers. The glow fades in and out as if mocking me.
Gus is barking somewhere close, frantic, the sound punching into my skull, but I can’t answer him. My body won’t move.
I watch taillights vanish into smoke.
Then everything goes black.