Chapter 11
CHRISTOPHER
Vigilance and intuition.
The two factors that can make or break a thief. Considering how long I’ve been playing this game, I like to think my vigilance and intuition are pretty top tier.
Knowing when to blend in and when to stand out.
It’s a skill I’ve honed over the years, learning how to observe targets and strike at the most opportune moment. I’m a predator for anything with the right price tag, and there has yet to be a day when I walk away with pockets emptier than how they started.
Until today.
Funny enough, it’s not the missing diamonds that’s weighing me down. It’s the pencil drawing tucked in my back pocket.
I should have taken him with me.
Scoffing at the ridiculous thought, I remind myself that not all misfits want to be found. Not all kids wake up wishing for an escape, for a light at the end of a dark fucking tunnel.
Dorian is probably content living with his brothers. They’re his biological family so who am I to say he deserves better.
He does deserve better, goddamn it.
“Fuck.” Pinching my eyes shut, I breathe out and count to ten.
Then I do it again.
I would have stood there, breathing in the middle of the forest for the whole goddamn day if it wasn’t for the bear.
Charging at me with mother fucking fangs.
“Oh, shit.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, it occurs to me that a bear wouldn’t be the size of a small wolf, but technicalities are the least of my worries right now.
The animal barks and snaps his teeth, his black body barreling through the trees and bushes like he was born to run here. Letting a stream of curses fly from my mouth, I kick up my heels and start running.
Faster than I ever have before.
The monster is hot on my heels when I reach the chain link fence marking the Malik Palace expansion. Over a hundred miles long, the barren land lies empty save for some construction vehicles and the odd telephone pole erupting out of the ground.
Launching off a nearby rock, I hit the fence hard and start climbing, shredding skin and fabric as I scramble to get my legs over the top.
Razor sharp teeth sink into my ankle and I scream, kicking and trying to get the beast off before he tears me to pieces. My heel makes contact with the animal’s face and he yelps, releasing my leg and giving me all the motivation I need to make it onto the other side.
Falling to the ground, I roll onto my shoulder and pop back up on an ankle that has seen better days. Blood oozes from the wound, and I hope to hell this animal didn’t just give me rabies.
“You really need to work on your manners, mate.” Wincing at the throb radiating up my leg, I scold the dog pacing behind the fence, “A simple hello would have sufficed.”
My comment must strike a nerve because he throws himself at the fence, snarling and chomping around the wires like a fiend. I shake my head, watching the muscle ball try and eat his way through the barrier between us.
“Maybe we started off on the wrong foot, but that’s not to say we can’t be friends.”
He growls, the sound noticeably not friendly.
“Fine. Be a bitch if that’s what you... holy shit.” Squinting at the dog’s neck, I spy the mass number of diamonds decorating the beast’s neck, “You belong to someone?”
Ronan.
The blinged out letters has a laugh escaping my throat. That collar’s got to be worth a couple thousand pounds, easy, and that’s before you take into account the gold pendant swinging from his neck.
Ronan’s got himself a sugar mama, the lucky bastard.
“Hey, if I return you to your owner maybe we could make a trade...”
My words die off when I realize the beast is nowhere in sight. Whipping my head to the side, I scan the fence for a hole or something equally disastrous for my physical health.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
My legs start pumping even before the barking starts up behind me.
“You don’t have to be such a dick!”
The corresponding growl tells me Ronan didn’t appreciate that comment. His hot breath hits the back of my leg and that’s my cue to go airborne.
Picking up the pace, I aim for the pile of discarded pallets.
The dingy boards are mostly broken down, their uneven edges leaning precariously against a pile of dirt.
Pushing off with my good ankle, I jump towards the top pallet, using the extra boost to reach up and grab the metal rung sticking out of the telephone pole.
Ronan jumps with me, his teeth almost catching my pant leg as I kick my toes up and swing myself over the top.
Hovering over the bar in a handstand, I offer Ronan my middle finger.
It’s been over a decade since I wore a leotard, but it may as well have been yesterday. Splitting my legs like a pro, I lower them slowly back down to the bar, bending myself in half until my toes grip the rusty edge.
My core clenches and my arms tremble as I reposition myself, carefully transitioning my bodyweight onto my lower half. Ronan watches, unimpressed, as I finish off my party trick with a salute in his direction.
“Not bad for a retired gymnast, yeah?”
“I’d give it a seven out of ten.”
A purr slinks out of the shadows, the seductive sound followed by an equally tempting blonde. Calista grins up at me, the evil glint in her eyes offset by the sweet curve of her mouth.
I would be lying if I said Calista Drache wasn’t my type.
Beautiful and vicious with a twisted sense of humour, she’s the type of woman who would slit my throat just as easily as she would stick her tongue down it.
Any self-preserving man would take one look at this vixen and run for the fucking hills.
I look and all I want to do is keep looking.
“Do you have a habit of keeping wild animals as pets?” Lifting a brow, I stare pointedly at Ronan’s studded collar, “Or is this one special?”
“If you want to wear one of my collars, Devil, you just have to ask.”
She tilts her head, a coy smile teasing her lips. I stare back at her, fighting the grin that’s threatening to take over my face.
“Been thinking of choking me? That’s not very ladylike.”
“Never had a complaint from the ladies.” She smirks, flicking her eyes over my bloody ankle, “Or men, for that matter.”
So she does swing both ways.
“I’m flattered, darling, but the air up here is thin enough that I don’t need your claws around my neck.” Easing more weight off my leg, I study her curiously, “How did you find me?”
“Besides the blood trail and screams of agony?”
“Funny.”
“I thought it was.” Snickering, she bends down and unclips the gold pendent from Ronan’s collar, “Tracking device so my baby doesn’t get lost.”
“Like your men chained and caged, do you?”
“Depends on their disposition.”
She’s got an answer for everything.
Shifting uncomfortably against the telephone pole, I study the pink exterior of Calista’s sports bra.
It’s a strange shade of pink, one that clings to the material and the matted ends of her ponytail.
Faded and a little too splotchy for typical fabric print, there’s only one thing I can think of that would leave a woman’s clothing looking like that.
Blood.
A bitter taste fills my mouth as I rake my gaze over her bloodstained body. It clings to her skin like mist, the smears along her torso adding a gruesome layer to her dragon tattoo.
She doesn’t look hurt, but then again, Calista doesn’t seem like the type of woman who would show her weakness to the world.
“Darling, did someone-
“What were you doing at the Hoffmann Cottage?” She cuts me off, just about sewing my mouth shut with that question, “Looking for the diamond, perhaps?”
Any sense of empathy evaporates as my carefully laid plans start to disintegrate before my eyes.
“What do you know about the Hoffmann Diamond?”
“What everyone knows.” She shrugs, “Evelyn White stole it from Sylvie’s body before it had time to grow cold.”
“Sounds like pleasant company.”
“She is quite delightful.” Amusement flashes across her face, “I could introduce you at the party next weekend.”
I don’t know what game this woman is playing but I know it can’t be good.
“Celebrating a birthday, are you?”
“She is. The party is being held at White Castle.”
Those green eyes are locked on mine, a pool of emerald fire just waiting to consume me at the opportune moment.
“You should come. Get to know your fellow students a bit more.”
The challenge lingers in the air, the bait we both know I’m going to take every fucking time.
“Will you be there?”
“Dying for my affection already, Devil?”
“More like your attention.” Tilting my head, I cast my eyes to the dog sitting calmly by her feet, “Seems to work miracles on the animals of this town.”
She smirks, “Ronan doesn’t need a grenade to keep me interested.”
“Bite all you want, darling, I don’t mind.”
It starts as a snort but turns into a laugh.
Throwing her head back, Calista laughs with everything she has. The good, the bad, the ugly meld together to create a cacophony of noise that’s so brutally honest it hurts.
I’m staring at her again, watching the divots and lines crinkle the smooth surface of her skin until there’s nothing but careless mirth floating through the air. It’s like watching a tidal wave crash into the beach, the fleeting moment of peace chased by the undertow waiting underneath.
“Don’t look so horrified.” Sweeping the tide away herself, Calista looks at me with a smile that doesn’t make it past her mouth, “Not all princesses are destined for a fairytale.”
She lets out a sharp whistle before I can respond.
Ronan springs to his feet, his massive body almost coming up to her spandex-clad hip that looks just as fine as it did earlier.
Blood and all.
“Evelyn White subjects her partygoers to whatever pharmaceutical horror her family’s been working on. Drinks, food, silverware… don’t touch anything you’re not ready to offer a lifelong commitment to.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“If you’re going to swim with the sharks, you should at least bring a pair of goggles.” Lifting her brow, Calista offers me the same salute I gave Ronan, “And like I said, I’m not ready to miss that accent of yours just yet.”
“Miss Drache, are you starting to care for me?”
“Only in your dreams, Devil.”
Blowing me a kiss, Calista starts back the way she came. Ronan gives me a menacing growl before rejoining his owner, his ears perked and ready as he trots dutifully beside her.
“Oi! Aren’t you going to offer to walk me home?”
Her green eyes find mine over her shoulder, the coy tilt of her lips making me disappointed she didn’t bring up our kiss.
The one I interrupted with a grenade.
Any sort of response gets washed away by a bitter wind, leaving me high and dry on the side of a telephone pole. I watch her blonde head disappear into the forest, the soft sway of her hips swallowed up by the overgrown wilderness.
Wolf Hollow is a different type of jungle. The things that should kill me seem docile and meek compared to my fellow humans, the sick and the twisted left to their own devices until someone worse comes along to finish them off.
Normally, I’d rank myself pretty high on the pecking order.
A wolf falls near the top of the food chain, the apex predator who shouldn’t have a problem telling the other beasts where to play.
It’s been my spot for so long, I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to feel threatened at every opportunity.
To be hunted instead of the hunter.
And I’ve got Calista Drache to thank for that.