Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The tavern lights glow in front of us, muffled music leaking faintly through the walls. Out here, the field is quiet except for crickets and the soft hum of the radio in Bear’s truck. Bear drops onto the tailgate and opens the pizza box like he’s unveiling treasure.
“A celebration is in order,” he proclaims. “You survived the Moon Ball and only threatened three people.”
“Two,” I correct, taking a slice of cheese.
“One of them was a valet,” he replies, taking a bite of his pizza. “That counts double.”
I sit beside him, the tall grass tickling my bare feet beneath my dress. The air is cool now, carrying the smell of midnight dew and gravel. Bear chews thoughtfully, glancing sideways at me.
“So,” he says casually, “Vanguard award.”
I immediately stare into the field. “No.”
He laughs deeply. “You didn’t even let me finish.”
“I know what you were going to say,” I mumble through chewing.
He wipes his hands on a grease rag that does absolutely nothing. “You saved a trafficking ring’s worth of animals, took down a network, got yourself kidnapped and basically saved your own ass in the process. People tend to give awards for that.”
“I didn’t do it alone.”
“Correct,” he says. “But you also run wide open into buildings alone, so we’re not pretending teamwork was your primary strategy.”
I take another bite to avoid answering. Bear nudges my shoulder. “You know you deserve it.”
I smile. “I don’t need a plaque for doing my job.”
“It’s not just a plaque,” he counters. “It’s recognition.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s worse.”
He pauses. “Worse?”
I shrug. “Means people are watching.”
Bear studies me a second but doesn’t push. Instead, he folds the pizza box closed halfway. “Well, I, for one, plan to brag about it loudly and often.”
“Please don’t.”
He grins. “I already told the guy at the gas station you wrestled an alligator.”
I look at him blankly. “You did not. What is up with you and gas station men?”
Bear bobs his head, his grin widening. “He seemed impressed. And they can’t walk away from me at the register when I speak.”
“Have you run out of ways to inflate your ego so you’re using me?” I ask, unable to hide my amusement.
He shrugs. “Don’t hate the player, Flossie, hate the game.”
Something moves behind the tavern in the shadows. I stop chewing. “Bear.”
He freezes mid bite. “You used my government name. I don’t appreciate that serious tone, Flossie.”
I push off the tailgate, my dress bunching in the grass. “No. A bear.” A dark shape steps into the neon glow. “Don’t move,” I whisper.
The animal lifts its head.
“That’s a dog.” Bear squints.
The grizzly bear blows hard through his nostrils, knocking over the trashcan against the building. Not a dog.
Bear inhales sharply. “That is absolutely a bear.” He immediately grabs the box, yanks another slice out, and starts stuffing it into his mouth.
“What are you doing?” I snap, trying my best to keep my voice low.
“Mmmf— removing the food source,” he mumbles, chewing at a speed that defies biology.
“You’re going to choke.”
“I refuse to be eaten and waste pizza.”
I gape at him as the sauce drips onto his rented tux. “You’re probably attracting it more!”
He pauses mid-chew, horrified. “I’m baiting it aren’t I?”
The grizzly lifts his nose into the air, taking a slow step forward. Bear jumps off the tailgate, dropping the box to the ground. I stumble backward as he grips the back of my dress.
“Florence, I know I’ve made mistakes in my life but this feels like a punishment I don’t deserve.” I smack his hand hard, gathering my dress in my hands. “Florence, what are you doing? Florence. Florence, do not approach the wilderness.”
I step forward into the casting lights. “Hey!” My voice cuts across the field.
The grizzly bear stops. I throw my arms wide.
“Go!” I shout again, louder and deeper. “Go on!” Something raw tears loose from my chest as the sound erupts from my throat.
The bear hesitates, so I scream. Not words.
Just sound. My chest rolls as it hurls out of me.
I pause, sucking in a large breath, and scream again.
Everything I’ve been holding since… since…
I can’t remember when. All of it leaving at once into the open night.
The bear finally turns, scrambling, and crashes back into the tree line.
I don’t stop. My throat burns but the sound keeps coming, ripping out of me before I can control it.
Then another voice joins mine. Bear. My Bear.
He steps beside me and yells into the darkness, half-terrified and half-committed.
His voice is thick, like an angry Viking roaring onto the battlefield.
I mimic him the best I can. Together, we roar at the empty woods until my voice breaks and my lungs feel empty.
Silence falls back over the field as I bend over breathing hard. Bear looks at me, eyes wide, with a half-eaten slice of pizza forgotten in his hand. “You do need therapy,” he chuckles, smiling wildly.
I’m trying. God knows I’m trying, but my foot only seems to gravitate toward pushing the pedal farther to the floor.
My Mustang purrs beneath me as I wind through the Wyoming mountain curves.
I rest one hand on the wheel while hanging my other lazily out of the open window.
Beside me, Kova sits in the passenger seat.
Her silver-gray fur glowing beneath the afternoon sun.
The warm leather seats having her dozing every so often.
Nyx drifts into my mind as I watch the speedometer.
The way he drives his Jeep so carefree, yet intentional.
Slow, and in no hurry. I’m not in a hurry, but I just can’t help it.
The speed does something to me, the adrenaline replacing my racing thoughts.
Sometimes I think if I go fast enough in this car, I can just outrun them.
My Mustang shifts into a roar as I unknowingly press harder onto the gas pedal. My mind can’t seem to agree with my heart.
“It’s just fear,” I say to no one. Fear of feeling something I’ve forbid myself to ever feel again.
Kova’s head tilts as she can hear my inner argument.
Why am I not afraid of a loaded gun but so terrified of love?
I ease my foot off the gas as the word hits me like a slap in the face.
Love. Is that what I feel, instead of fear?
I wouldn’t know what it’s like. I never experienced the real thing.
But as I drive, I can only wonder if it is love trying to settle into these Angry Bones.
Kova lifts her head again as I push a little harder into the next curve.
“Don’t start,” I mutter. Her ears flick as I glance at her. “I’m behaving.”
The wolf gives me a look that suggests otherwise.
I laugh quietly, sinking farther into the seat.
She never leaves my side now. Where I go, she goes.
Whether it’s the bathroom or even training grounds.
All the places she shouldn’t be, she just appears beside me like my own shadow.
The wolf reminds me of Ellie and Tyler as toddlers, always clinging to their momma.
I smile again. I wouldn’t have it any other way, if I’m being honest.
A black blur appears into my review mirror suddenly, snatching the peace right out of my mind.
The vehicle whirls around the curve behind me like a black missile.
A classic muscle car that I haven’t seen before around here.
Its windows are so heavily tinted I can’t see a thing beyond the windshield. No movement, just thick dark glass.
The car closes the distance instantly. Kova’s lips curl beside me as she jumps to her feet, looking from me to the stranger behind us.
I keep my eyes on the mirror as the car inches forward, then backs off, repeating the motion continuously.
A low growl rumbles through Kova’s chest. It’s close enough now that I can clearly see the reflection of my bumper in its grille.
“Hey,” I say calmly. Kova snaps her attention back toward me. “Back seat.”
She doesn’t move, only lowering her head in protest. “Kova, now.” The wolf huffs, but obeys, and climbs over the console into the back.
I check to make sure she’s laid down before I slide my hand under my driver’s seat and pull out my Glock.
The black car surges forward as I lay it gently into the passenger seat.
Now that it’s closer, I can see it’s a ‘69 Ply Mouth Road Runner. It prowls long and low like a panther crouched before a kill. Every inch of it has been stripped of anything flashy, leaving nothing but muscle and menace. Wide tires bulge beneath the fenders, giving the car a stance that looks planted. Twin headlights glare from the darkened grille like watchful eyes, and the deep rumble of the engine seems to drown out my Mustang’s exhaust. And I don’t like it.
My foot hits the floor and my Mustang soars with a war cry as trees blur past. The mountains become streaks of green and stone as I attack the next curve.
I grip the wheel with one hand, and my gear shifter with the other.
But the car keeps pace, following perfectly in line behind, almost glued to my rear bumper.
“Okay. Let’s play,” I mutter, slamming my left foot into the clutch and jerking the shifter into neutral.
I crank the wheel, snapping the rear end loose.
Wayne slides sideways across the pavement as the rear wheels drift across the double yellow lines slinging us in the opposite direction.
My mustang shoots forward like bullet. I smirk.
But my victory instantly vanishes as the black Road Runner’s hood lines up perfectly with my own, as if they knew my next move and followed pursuit. I growl along with Kova.