Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Raven awoke to the sound of voices.
It seemed unimaginable, absurd even, to fall asleep right next to two hundred pounds of lethal predator, but she had managed it. It had been a deep sleep, too, rife with tangled dreams she could no longer recall.
The voices grew louder.
Adrenaline shot through her limbs. Instantly, she was wide awake. Her heart thumped. Her eyes sprang open. Turning her head, she searched the small clearing, scanning the empty ground on either side of her, the trees towering above her prone body.
Shadow and Luna must have smelled the bikers long before Raven heard them. The wolves had vanished into their den or had hidden themselves somewhere in the trees and heavy underbrush.
Twenty yards and a thicket of trees separated the wolf den from the public viewing area. According to her father, wolves were private creatures. He’d refused to cut down the trees, even when guests complained that they couldn’t see the star attractions.
Now, Raven was grateful for the concealment. She sat up slowly, her back aching, a crick in her neck. She ran her tongue over her furry teeth. Her mouth tasted sour. What she wouldn’t give for a toothbrush. Her scalp itched. She felt dirty, unwashed.
Sanitation was currently the least of her problems. She’d hoped the bikers would be gone by now. They weren’t. Her stomach sank.
She strained her ears to hear the voices over the rumbling of her empty stomach. She couldn’t catch more than a stray word, the murmur of low voices. There were two choices. She could remain hidden, or she could creep closer to overhear something useful.
Knowledge is power. One of her father’s favorite phrases. He’d taught her to stay alert, to maintain something he called situational awareness. Assess the situation, analyze the available information, then act.
The more she knew about these thugs, the better.
As soundlessly as she could, she rolled onto her stomach and crawled beneath several pine boughs. The syrupy scent of sap filled her nostrils. The air smelled earthy and damp. Twigs, sticks, and rocks dug into her knees and the palms of her hands. Leaf litter clung to her shirt and pants.
It was past dawn. The early morning air was chilly. Her breath puffed in white swirls. Goosebumps broke out on her arms. The pinkish sky was like glass, so clear and sharp she could almost see through to heaven, or maybe the future.
After several painstaking minutes, she reached a boulder and hunched behind it. Hidden in deep shadows beneath a pine tree, she was relatively concealed but close enough for a clear view of the path and the double fence two dozen yards ahead of her.
Between the trees, she glimpsed four burly bikers leaning against the guardrail.
One smoked a cigar as they gazed into the hybrid enclosure.
They wore pistols holstered to their hips, with hunting rifles or AR-15s strapped across their brawny chests.
She recognized Vaughn, the leader, Dekker, the psycho killer, the guy with the ponytail they called Rex, and Damien, the sharp-faced redhead.
“I don’t see anything,” Rex whined. “We’ve been standing here for ten minutes and nothing. You must be seeing things, kid.”
“I saw it,” Damien said.
“It was night. You certain?” asked Vaughn.
“Absolutely,” Damien said. “The thing was white as a ghost and huge. The biggest wolf I’ve ever seen, even a genetically modified one.”
Vaughn’s grin widened. He patted Damien on the back in approval. “Good job, son.”
Damien smiled gratefully. A faint blush of pride spread across his pale, freckled skin. “Thank you.”
She shivered involuntarily. Damien was the one who’d surprised her at the bear padlock last night.
She couldn’t quite figure him out. He hadn’t shot Phil, but he nearly did.
He was much younger than the other men, barely older than she was.
He looked like he belonged in the halls of high school, heading to band practice or theater or yearbook, worried about pimples and girlfriends.
Of course, age had nothing to do with psychopathology. He might be as cruel as Dekker. Or even worse.
There was a hardness in the slash of his cheekbones, the narrow jut of his chin. It was obvious he was eager to prove himself. That made him dangerous.
“Can we leave already?” Dekker asked in a bored tone. “I’m starving.”
“Mickey is making breakfast,” Damien said. “He found actual pancake mix. And there’s more where that came from.”
Next to Dekker, Rex blew out a ring of cigarette smoke. “Did you see how much food is here? This place is a gold mine.”
“And mine it we shall,” Vaughn said. “In due time. I’m not leaving until I see it for myself.”
Dekker’s expression tightened, like he wanted to roll his eyes in disgust, but he didn’t. He knew who was boss, who demanded his respect. “Sure thing.”
“Have a little patience. The best things come to those who wait.” Vaughn leaned forward, draped his arms across the guardrail, and stared intently into the enclosure.
He had a sophisticated air about him, a civilized facade, like he might strangle you with one hand while sipping expensive wine from a crystal glass with the other.
Scorpio and Rex were his guard dogs, unthinking brutes who killed on command. Dekker, though, was something else.
Dekker rubbed his goatee, his eyebrows dark slashes over eyes black as silt. Raven had seen the look on his face when he’d shot Carl. He didn’t kill in self-defense or because he was following orders; he killed because he enjoyed it.
To her left, a branch quivered. A few dead leaves fluttered to the forest floor. Raven flinched. Without making a sound, she swiveled her head to the left.
Not five feet from her position, the black wolf crouched. She hadn’t even heard him approach. He was so dark he blended with the shifting shadows beneath the trees. Ears back, he gazed intently at the men beyond the fence. His jowls pulled back over his teeth.
Likely, Luna was nearby as well.
Stay back, she whispered to them in her mind. Stay hidden.
“Enough of this,” Dekker said. “You want to see a big-ass white wolf? I’ll draw the beast out. It can’t hide forever.”
Dekker bent and chose a loose, fist-sized rock from the path. Over the years, much of the flagstone had cracked and crumbled. Her father hadn’t had the time or the budget to get it fixed.
Drawing his arm back, Dekker hurled the rock into the enclosure. It struck the trunk of a nearby sugar maple with a resounding crack.
Vaughn laughed. His laugh was loud and boisterous, with a cruel edge. Damian flicked a questioning gaze at the man’s face, assessing his response before deciding how to react. A second later, he laughed, too.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Dekker said in a sing-song voice. “Here, doggy. We’ve got a treat for you.”
“That’s one way to do it.” Rex’s voice was deep and rasping, like he’d been smoking for fifty years—though he couldn’t have been older than thirty.
Rex seized a rock and threw it at the pine tree Raven was crouched beneath. The rock punched the center of the trunk about ten feet above her head. The branches quaked. Pine needles rained down on her hair.
Shadow growled. The low snarl rumbled from deep in his chest.
“You hear that?” Damien shouted. “It’s right there in the center of those trees.”
Raven wanted to shush him, but she couldn’t afford to make a sound.
The wolf was pure predator, 100% alpha. It wasn’t in his nature to cower, to live in fear, to act the prey.
She stared at Shadow as hard as she could, desperate to somehow communicate her thoughts: Be quiet. Be still. Don’t let them see you.
“We all heard it,” Rex drawled. “No need to get your panties in a wad.”
“Keep going,” Vaughn ordered. “Draw it out.”
Rex and Dekker hurled several more rocks into the enclosure. With each crack and thud, Shadow’s growls grew louder, more fierce.
She longed to touch him, to soothe him, to comfort him somehow. She didn’t dare. He was no dog. And she had zero desire to lose her fingers to those teeth. Last night was something she still couldn’t explain. But he was far from tame.
A rock struck the trunk of an elm less than a foot from Shadow’s head.
With a snarl, the wolf sprang from the protection of the trees. He charged the fence, his tail stiff behind him. He growled deep in his throat, the ruff on his neck bristling.
He looked huge, aggressive, and menacing. His jowls stretched back, revealing every one of his forty-two teeth.
Damien whistled. “Damn! There’s another one!”
“Look at the pelt on that beautiful animal, boys!” Vaughn said. “It’s gorgeous!”
Rex lifted his rifle and aimed at the wolf. “What a prize, boss. Let me do the honors.”
Raven tensed. Fear speared her chest. She longed to leap out after Shadow, to defend him, to do something, but she couldn’t. Not yet. If she revealed herself, they would take her and do terrible things.
She needed to stay hidden. Her life depended on it. She could only pray these jerkwads didn’t harm the wolves.
“Easy now.” Vaughn put his hand on the barrel of Rex’s rifle and forced him to lower it. “Not yet. We don’t want to waste the meat or ruin the pelt. And that’s a magnificent pelt. Prettiest I’ve ever seen.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” Rex gave a careless shrug. He fixed his gaze on Shadow, his eyes gleaming. “I call that one.”
“Who says it’s yours?” Damian asked.
Rex spat on the ground. “It’s certainly not yours, kid.”
Dekker rolled his eyes. “It’s just an overgrown dog.”
“That right there is an apex predator, my friend. You treat a prize like that with respect.” Vaughn spoke with a measure of awe in his voice, awe and something like longing.
“Sure, whatever.” Dekker seized another rock and heaved it at the wolf. It struck Shadow in the flank.
The wolf yelped. He leaped forward with a savage snarl. Behind him, the white wolf appeared. She plunged out of the trees and loped to a spot beside her mate. She snapped her jaws, ears flattened against her skull, and eyes blazing.
Vaughn straightened. His entire face lit with greedy, rapacious desire. “Look what we have here. There he is, in all his glory. You were right, kid. That white pelt is fit for a king.”
Dread coiled in Raven’s stomach. She hated the way the bikers viewed the wolves—like trophies. She dug her nails into her palms to keep from screaming. She wanted the men to just leave. Better yet, she wished she could set each one of them on fire and burn them alive.
Vaughn turned away from the fence. He glared at his men. “The white wolf is mine. No one touches him until tomorrow.”
“How long are we staying here?” Dekker asked.
“Antsy already?” Vaughn dropped the stub of his cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his boot. “Everything in its time. We’re in no rush. We seize opportunities as we find them, remember? This right here is a golden opportunity. And we have you to thank for it.”
Dekker stepped in close to Vaughn. “We’re wasting time. There’s too much to do. We can’t afford to waste days here and squander—”
Vaughn’s expression went hard. “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
Dekker scowled. For a second, he looked almost mutinous. After a tense moment, his face cleared, and he smiled lazily. “Sure thing, boss.”
Vaughn turned his back on Dekker. “Let’s go.”
Dekker stayed behind as the others followed Vaughn along the path back toward the lodge. Damien glanced back at Dekker, a question on his face. “You coming?”
Dekker didn’t bother to answer him. He stood staring into the pen with his hands folded behind his back, his legs spread wide. Damien shrugged, then left with the others.
Once he was alone, Dekker bent to the grass, felt around for more stones in the dirt, and chucked them one by one at the wolves. One struck Luna on her right foreleg. The second one hit Shadow’s flank.
“How you like them apples?”
The wolves snarled.
Dekker smiled, an eerie, oily smile that set Raven’s teeth on edge. “Don’t like me, do you? The feeling’s mutual.”
The wolves fell back, growling and snapping in impotent fury.
“I hate dogs. Nothing to do but put you down in the dirt where you belong.” His expression was scornful, malignant. He made the shape of a gun with his fingers and pointed it first at Shadow, then Luna. “Bang, bang. You’re dead.”