Chapter Eleven
FRANKIE
Iclench the steering wheel tight, my fingers aching from trying to hide the way my muscles tremble. I’m unsure if my body is struggling to command so many wolves at once or if it’s a reaction to revealing a secret many would kill to possess.
Abilities are like muscles—if you don’t exercise them, they weaken.
Gramps taught me how to train in secret, and it’s totally different to use my abilities so openly.
It wasn’t safe to use my powers in Kyperian, since the Orion often patrolled different sectors of the city, searching for anyone who broke the laws.
An accidental burst of power would have drawn the wrong kind of attention.
This isn’t the first time I’ve used my abilities in public, but it is the first time I’ve left witnesses.
Normally, it’s easier to use them in secret or avoid using them altogether.
The few times that wasn’t possible, I influenced the witnesses to forget, fogging over any memory of the ordeal.
Although a few bad guys have seen me working my magic, it was the last thing they ever saw.
As Gramps would say, dead men tell no tales.
Not to mention every time I use my powers, it’s like sending up a flare for the Orion.
Unfortunately, this time, none of those options is viable, and I feel exposed. Even if I could kill everyone, my conscience won’t allow me to commit mass murder just to keep my secret.
As I speed down the dirt driveway, I’m conscious of every wolf hiding in the shadows, watching me with eyes that glow, the beasts eager to do my bidding.
Their presence is like tiny sparks in my brain.
It feels invasive, and I can’t repress a shiver of revulsion.
Thankfully, my sway over them will fade after a few minutes, once I’m out of range.
Making a command permanent takes more work, something I try to avoid at all costs.
Messing with a mind is delicate, and I don’t have nearly enough practice. The last thing I want to do is accidentally lobotomize anyone. Not to mention it takes a shit ton of energy and leaves me vulnerable afterward, which I can’t afford.
My skin crawls at being the center of attention. Most of the wolves won’t remember much, but a few are strong enough to remain aware of what’s happening.
Those are the dangerous ones.
They watch my vehicle closely, avarice gleaming in their eyes, practically salivating at the thought of the power I could bring them. I’m just a woman, after all, made to do their bidding, and I mentally sigh at the thought of having more men chasing after me.
I had hoped the rest of the world would be different from Kyperian, that I would have an opportunity for a new life, but it’s just more of the same bullshit—men want power and often do whatever it takes to get it.
A wave of helplessness weighs me down and threatens to drown me.
Is there anywhere that’s safe?
My people have been hunted to near extinction. As far as I’m aware, I’m the last of my kind. A forbidden text I read mentioned many of my ancestors had forsaken their powers, locked them away to survive, living only half a life, hidden away from the predators like an injured fawn.
Unfortunately, that’s not an option for me.
Once the Orion has my scent, they’re like bloodhounds—they’ll never let me go.
The council won’t stand for someone like me to live, not without being under their thumb.
I unconsciously press down harder on the accelerator as my past chases me, the engine screaming as I floor it, and a trail of dust kicks up from the tires as I do my best to outrun my inescapable fate.
I’m tempted to force the wolves to forget, make myself disappear, but I’ve never tried to hold so many minds at once.
I can’t take the risk that I will fail.
I can fight off three, maybe even five shifters, but a whole pack?
I’m good, but no one is that good.
Not to mention the responsibility of holding someone’s mind is too much pressure.
I don’t have enough practice to be confident of the outcome.
The first time I commanded anyone, the results were devastating.
They became a virtual minion, just waiting for my orders.
It freaked me out so much that I’ve avoided using my abilities unless absolutely necessary.
I caught the asshole assaulting a girl. I was too far away to physically stop him, so I tossed out a command to halt. The euphoria of using my abilities for the first time was addictive, my veins singing with magic, the power begging me to use it.
The girl ripped herself out of his hold the instant I interfered, running away without once looking back, leaving me to deal with her attacker.
The beast in me immediately wanted to kill him for assaulting a female, someone so much weaker than him.
His confidence, the sheer audacity that he felt—like it was his right to take what he wanted—burned away the pleasure of using my gift.
I stood before him, debating what to do.
Though some awareness lingered in his eyes, he remained completely at my mercy, his wolf eager for my command.
I could’ve ordered him to forget the whole evening.
I could’ve ordered him to turn himself in to the authorities, but I doubted he would even get a slap on the wrist without witnesses or a victim to file a report.
Neither of those options would’ve brought justice.
So I ordered him to shift, binding him in his wolf form for a month. It was like tapping into his basic programming, rewiring his hindbrain. What I hadn’t expected was for the wolf to become obsessed, stalking my every move and demanding my attention.
I’d thought it was harmless…until I realized he was killing anyone who even looked at me sideways.
Something about locking away the human part of him had altered his mind. Without the balance between his humanity and his wolf, his brain unraveled. Don’t get me wrong—he’d always been a killer, a monster down to his soul. But, by taking away the human part of him, that evil bled into his wolf.
He’d devolved into a merciless killer, and I was forced to put him down.
There is no escaping fate.
It was a bitter lesson to learn.
It doesn’t matter the species—shifters, witches, vampires, or fae—no one is immune to my abilities. I should be thrilled to never be at the mercy of someone else ever again, but no one should have that much power.
It’s like playing god, and the thought leaves me chilled to the bone.
I can almost understand why my people were hunted and killed.
If I could lock my powers away, I would do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, Gramps warned against the idea, saying I wouldn’t have been given the ability if it wasn’t needed. He meant fighting the council and bringing Kyperian back to its former glory.
That is, if I survive that long.
Unfortunately, that’s just one possibility.
The gods can’t decide our fate.
Our choices tip the balance either to the good or the bad.
I’m doing my best to be mindful of the warnings, but the pressure of knowing every decision could be my downfall is overwhelming. Not using my gift will have its own consequences. Without someone to stand up to the council, their evil will continue to spread.
Late at night, Gramps and I often discussed different scenarios, debating different tactics that might alter the future, yet not one of them included losing him.
Sitting on the sidelines ceased to be an option the instant they spilled his blood.
If it’s the last thing I do, the council will pay for their crimes with their lives.
I avoid looking at the Orion sitting next to me and glance in the back seat.
As if acknowledging them gives them permission to speak, Dante leans forward, his slate-colored eyes hard. “Maybe it’s time you tell us what the fuck is happening? What the fuck are you?”
What, not who?
I shiver at the slight distinction.
Once again, I’m a thing, not a person, and disappointment pings inside me. For some reason, I thought better of them.
I’m a fool.
The rough, growly tone of his voice is deadly soft, anger replacing any curiosity. If the gleam in his eyes is any indication, he would happily toss me from the moving vehicle if given the opportunity.
Not that I would fault him.
I basically blew up their lives. The least he deserves is some honesty—enough to appease him, but not enough to put him in danger.
Telling them the truth is a gamble, a risk not only to my safety but theirs as well.
Past experiences scream at me to remain quiet, a lesson I’ve learned over and over again.
The truth will only lead to disaster. Still, my wolf whines in my head, like a brush of fur against my mind, urging me to trust them.
It’s been so long since I had faith in anyone that the impulse is repugnant.
Trusting the wrong person will lead me to my downfall.
The more the men know, the more dangerous it will be for them…and me.
Much to my frustration, her demands grow more and more insistent, and I reluctantly relent. Gramps said our wolves often sense things that we don’t, that his beast saved his life more than once. Unfortunately, I don’t have the same experience. I’ve spent most of my life on two feet instead of four.
The shifters who attacked us continue to follow from a distance, running full-out to keep up with the car. I push the vehicle faster, watching the mirrors as the beasts gradually fall back and fade into the distance. I don’t make the mistake of thinking that means they will give up.
Now that they’ve seen what I can do, they won’t stop until they get their hands on me…just like every other person in my life.
Once the wolves are out of sight, I blow out a harsh breath, then twist my head from side to side until my neck cracks. I remain focused on the road to avoid the too intense gazes of the men in the back seat. I debate my options, but once again, they’re limited.