16. Isaac
ISAAC
I woke groggily, every muscle in my body weighed down as though someone had poured molten lead into my bones while I'd been unconscious.
Even drawing a breath felt like dragging air through water. A pained groan escaped me before I could stop it. My wolf exploded against the walls of my mind.
Wake up! The instinct wasn't words so much as raw urgency and fury. I forced my eyes open.
The world swam in and out of focus, a dull throb pounding through my skull. White light stabbed at my vision before everything settled into hazy shapes and muted colors.
Where was I? Confusion clouded my thoughts for several long seconds. I didn't recognize the ceiling above me. I wrinkled my nose as I breathed in the stale smell hanging in the air.
Then memory struck like another blow from that wrench. I recalled the broken-down car and the wrench coming down on my head.
The bastard hadn't stopped after the first swing. He'd known exactly what I was. One blow wouldn't keep a shifter down.
He'd kept swinging until I couldn't stand anymore. And that needle, he’d used some kind of tranquilizer. Whoever he'd been, he’d planned every second of it.
My stomach twisted. I'd been taken, and that was unacceptable. I tried to sit upright, but nothing happened. My arms refused to move, and my legs stayed planted exactly where they were.
I frowned before instinctively jerking harder. Metal clanked, and pain flared. A vicious hiss escaped my teeth. The cuffs encircled my wrists, attached to thick steel loops welded directly into the chair.
The instant I pulled, the silver seared into my skin.
My wolf recoiled violently inside me, snarling and pacing in frantic circles. I growled through clenched teeth and pulled harder. The silver dug deeper.
A sharp, sizzling pain ripped through my wrists, making me jerk forward before instinct forced me to stop. The smell of burning flesh reached me a second later.
“Damn it!” My breathing quickened, but I forced myself to calm down.
Panicking wouldn't help. Focus and assess, tackle one problem at a time. I slowly forced myself to relax despite every instinct screaming to fight.
The chair was heavy, solid metal and clearly built for industrial use. It was also heavy enough that even if I broke free from the cuffs, I doubted I'd be carrying it anywhere.
Chains secured my ankles as well. They weren't silver, thankfully, but thick steel links anchored them firmly to the chair legs.
Whoever had done this knew how to restrain a shifter. He hadn't underestimated me. I lifted my head and finally took in the room. I was in a trailer.
Hardly any of the metal was actually visible, because every inch of the walls had been plastered over with Shadowfall posters.
Foam replicas of weapons hung from hooks, while shelves overflowed with figurines still inside their unopened boxes. Pins, keychains, collector mugs, and T-shirts filled another.
My stomach dropped another inch. There wasn't a single empty patch of wall. It was less a trailer and more a shrine, and dominating nearly every poster was the Orc King.
In one poster, he towered over blood-soaked battlefields, a massive green-skinned warrior clad in jagged black armor. A crown fashioned entirely from bones rested upon his head.
His tusks protruded in a permanent snarl, and his eyes glowed gold beneath a heavy brow.
The character the stalker had insisted I resembled. My skin crawled. Nico hadn't exaggerated in his reports. This wasn't admiration, it was worship.
"You're finally awake." The voice floated through the trailer with unsettling cheerfulness.
I slowly turned my head. He stepped into view. The acid green hoodie was impossible to miss. It looked even filthier than before, stained around the sleeves and fraying along the cuffs.
The hood hung halfway off his head, exposing strands of greasy dark hair. Oily locks clung to his pale cheeks in uneven ropes, framing a narrow face dotted with old acne scars.
Dark crescents beneath his bloodshot eyes suggested he'd forgotten what proper sleep looked like. His fingers twitched constantly, and his left knee bounced even while he stood still.
His smile was the worst part. It was wide and almost childlike, so eager it made every hair on my neck stand upright.
Then it clicked. I knew that face.
It wasn’t because Nico had shown me the photographs. He was the guy I saved from the falling camera crane.
When I'd spotted him on the side of the road, he'd looked so ordinary, so forgettable. He'd probably been wearing makeup.
"You," I whispered. His grin somehow grew even larger. "I saved you that day."
"That's right." His eyes practically shone. "I'm so glad you remember, Isaac."
There wasn't a trace of resentment in his voice. Heck, he sounded delighted. I swallowed carefully. Think. Keep him talking. Every second mattered.
Logan would realize I was missing soon enough. And Nico? He would lose his damn mind.
He'd already been tracking this guy. Surely they'd find me. Unless nobody knew where to start looking. I glanced around the space, hoping to find windows.
Too bad the tiny windows were covered from the inside with overlapping strips of duct tape, blocking out every sliver of daylight. I couldn't tell whether it was morning or night.
How long I'd been unconscious? Hours? days?
"I thought,” I said slowly, forcing calm into my voice, "I was your Orc King."
He laughed softly, the sound was almost bashful.
"Oh my!” He rubbed the back of his neck. "You don't mind if I call you Your Majesty?"
His voice carried genuine uncertainty, like he honestly feared disappointing me.
"No, not at all,” I lied.
The relief that flooded his face would've been touching if the circumstances weren't horrifying.
"Oh, thank goodness." Before I could react, he hurried forward. Then he dropped onto one knee, right in front of me, his head bowed.
One trembling hand reached toward my leg. Every instinct screamed at me to kick him away. Instead, I forced myself to remain still as his fingertips lightly brushed the hem of my jeans.
His touch lingered with almost religious reverence, as if he was a pilgrim touching a sacred relic. Revulsion churned violently in my stomach, and every muscle wanted to recoil.
I swallowed it down and reminded myself to play along for now. If he believed I accepted this, maybe he'd lower his guard.
"Rise, loyal subject,” I said quietly, feeling ridiculous.
His entire face lit up. He actually obeyed. He stood immediately, smiling so hard his cheeks flushed pink. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
I needed information fast.
"So,” I kept my tone conversational. "What should I call you?"
"My name's Kyle." His voice softened. "Kyle Mercer."
He smiled shyly. "But I really like it when you call me your Kyle."
"I'll remember that."
"I knew you would."
There it was again. Absolute certainty, as if this conversation had happened a thousand times already inside his head.
"So," I continued, "how long have I been here?"
Kyle tilted his head. "Not long. You slept almost the whole drive."
Drive? How far had he taken me? Into the mountains? Another state? Before I could ask another question, a distant sound drifted through the trailer walls. A car engine.
Kyle’s shoulders stiffened, and the twitching returned to his fingers. The engine grew louder, closer.
His expression darkened with astonishing speed. It was like watching storm clouds swallow the sun. His eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched so tightly I heard his teeth grind.
"Seriously?" he muttered. He stomped toward the trailer door. "I drove all the way into the mountains."
Another vehicle door slammed outside. Kyle threw both hands into the air. "I picked somewhere nobody comes!"
I could hear muffled voices through the walls, and one was instantly familiar.
“I told you..." That was definitely Tony.
Another panicked voice answered immediately. Nico.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Relief hit so hard it almost hurt. They'd found me. Of course they had.
I'd often underestimated just how relentless my Nico could be, then relief curdled into fear. Why was I only hearing two voices?
I assumed they would bring some of the pack enforcers with them, some form of backup. What the hell were they thinking?
"Nico," I whispered under my breath.
Kyle spun around. His expression had transformed completely. Gone was the shy worshipper. His eyes burned with possessive fury.
"They followed us,” Kyle mumbled. His breathing quickened. "They're trying to take you away."
He hurried toward a battered duffel bag shoved beneath a folding table. My pulse skyrocketed.
“Kyle, wait,” I began.
Kyle unzipped the bag. His hand disappeared inside. When it emerged, he held a handgun. Ice flooded my veins.
If he'd known enough to restrain me with silver, he'd clearly researched shifters thoroughly. There was every chance that gun contained silver bullets.
"Nico, no,” I breathed.
My wolf erupted inside me, throwing itself against the invisible cage the silver had created. I yanked instinctively against the cuffs. Agony shot through both wrists.
The smell of scorched skin filled the trailer again. Kyle barely noticed. He calmly checked the magazine, then racked the slide. My mouth went dry.
“Kyle, listen to me!” The words burst from me louder than intended.
Kyle looked back, confused.
"There's no need for that. Please put the gun down,” I said in my most gentlest voice.
Images crashed through my mind in rapid succession. Nico laughing at a joke I'd made. Rolling his eyes whenever Logan made another terrible joke. Falling asleep against my shoulder after another exhausting day on set.
I couldn't lose him, not like this. Kyle smiled reassuringly. The expression somehow made everything worse.
"It's okay." He spoke the way someone might calm a frightened child. "I'll take care of him this time."
His fingers tightened around the pistol. "It'll just be the two of us again.”
Then he reached for the trailer door and pushed it open.