Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
The narrow dirt road twisted through the bayou, winding away into the dark like a deadly serpent, then reappearing in the headlights as the ancient cypresses pressed in from both sides, creating an endless tunnel ahead of her.
Spanish moss hung in tatters like lace curtains, brushing against her windshield with ghostly fingers.
Tendrils scratched and thumped over the car roof; the noises made her cringe despite knowing they were just plants swaying in the night breeze.
Every horror movie watched in her teens flooded her mind, monsters scratching at doors, on the underside of coffins, and pushing their way into her home.
Her rational mind thrust the images and intrusive thoughts aside, but with each brush of the moss, her skin prickled, and she rubbed the back of her neck.
An injured baby wolf. The caller’s words echoed in her head as she navigated another curve, hoping she wouldn’t encounter any sharp turns where the road suddenly gave way to the swamp.
She leaned into her enhanced senses, straining to penetrate the darkness beyond her headlight beams. Pack member’s child, five or six years old, caught in a hunting trap and bleeding badly.
No wonder they couldn’t move the child. No wonder they needed her specific healing abilities rather than just calling 911.
She didn’t envisage an ambulance making its way safely through this jungle of trees, swamp and narrow dirt roads.
She focused on the situation she was likely to run into.
A shifted wolf pup would be impossible to explain to human paramedics, and the trauma of forced transformation back to human form could kill an injured child.
Her first job would be to use the caller to help calm the child and prevent them from shifting.
She glanced at her phone clipped to the dash.
There was no signal out here, deep in the wetlands where civilization had long given way to primordial wilderness.
Due to the mate bond, she sensed Rowan’s growing panic, his desperate rush to reach her.
But he was still at least twenty minutes behind, and every minute counted when a child could bleed to death.
The trees opened out, and the hunting cabin appeared suddenly in her headlights; a battered, weathered structure, raised on stilts to keep it above the seasonal flooding; moored beside it, a flat-bottomed boat was attached to the pilings with a decrepit hank of old rope.
Warm light spilled from the windows, and she spotted a figure moving inside.
Hopefully, someone was attending to the injured child.
Summer jumped from the car, grabbed her medical kit from the back and raced up the wooden steps, her heart thudding.
Remembering the warnings from Rowan, she checked her phone to see how far away he was now.
No signal. Placing one hand over her pounding heart, she breathed into the mate bond.
She sensed his concentration and anxiety.
He’s on his way. Should she wait? But hesitation cost lives.
Stilling she pricked her ears and listened. Had she heard a bike? Rowan’s bike? No glow of approaching lights met her gaze.
But she heard a cry from inside the cabin. Bounding up the steps, she took a deep, calming breath and knocked. The door creaked open; it wasn’t latched, and she stepped over the threshold into a surprisingly clean interior with modern furnishings; they seemed out of place in the rustic setting.
“Hello?” she called, stepping inside. “I’m Dr. Vale. Where’s my patient?”
She heard movement behind a door in the far corner and, assuming that was where the child was being cared for, she strode across the room.
The main door slammed shut behind her just as the shutters over the window crashed into place.
The cross bars thudded down and her blood ran cold.
She dropped her medical bag and spun around, running back to the door and grabbing the handle.
It refused to turn. She tugged and tugged at it, but her hands slid over the slick metal.
It wasn’t merely stuck. It was locked. From the outside.
“What the hell?” she shouted. Squaring her shoulders, she willed the silver flames to break out on her hands.
During the last Blood Moon with Rowan and Fabian, she’d been unstoppable.
More than enough for a cabin door—she’d blow it off its hinges.
Turning her palms toward the door, Summer took a deep breath, waiting for the flames to appear.
Her palms warmed, and silver light was visible, but no flames and certainly nothing as powerful as she needed.
Without the others, she had no power. Damn!
She turned back the room where she’d heard the noise before and opened it slowly.
“Hello?” she called, but hers was the only voice echoing in the empty room.
A single bed was neatly made, but there was no injured child.
No frantic pack member. The cabin was deserted.
The shuttered window glowed in the overhead light, reflecting her haunted, anxious image.
She was alone. Just her, trapped in a hunting lodge, which had transformed into her prison. Huh. That’s what they think!
Whirling on her heel, she marched to the kitchen area of the main room.
She pulled open drawers and cupboards, but apart from some silverware, a mug, and some ramen noodles, the kitchen was empty.
There wasn’t even a sachet of instant coffee.
She lifted the spoon and the fork; they both had a little heft to them, but she couldn’t see herself lifting the external cross bar with either of them. It did give her another idea, though.
She dropped to her knees in front of the external door and peeked through the keyhole. If the key was in there, she could poke it out with a pen and drop it onto the newspaper she’d seen on the table. But as she watched, a shadow flickered across the light.
A single amber eye stared back at her. “No such luck, doc,’ said a voice. “Just settle down now, you’re going nowhere until the morning.”
“Mr. Guidry, is that you? Is this a joke? Now, you just let me out of here! My mate is coming, and he’s not going to be happy with you when he gets here.”
Through the mate bond, she felt Rowan’s spike of fury as he realized what had happened. His emotions flooded through their connection: rage, terror, desperation, and underneath it all, a grim determination—someone was about to die for threatening his mate.
Summer tried the windows, but they were securely locked with brand-new hardware, much newer than the cabin’s rustic exterior suggested. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment trap. Someone had planned this carefully, timing it to coincide with… what?
She slid to the floor and rested her back against the sofa to wait. She rubbed her hands over her head and down her face, finally resting against the warm mating scar. She sagged for a moment, closing her eyes and then in an instant, she was in Rowan’s head and body.
Rowan opened the cabin door and was halfway onto the porch before he noticed Axel making his way up the steps.
“Going somewhere, Rowan?”
“I’m in a hurry, Axel. Whatever you want can wait.” Rowan breathed in, and even twenty miles away, trapped in the old cabin Summer tasted the poison of Axel’s mood.
Her mate tensed, his claws just below the surface of the skin of his hands. She gasped in agony. Was this how his shifts always felt? She wiped dampness away from her eye, wondering if all wolves experienced this much pain when transforming.
Rowan’s fury was visceral. Panicked about Summer’s safety, he hadn’t taken his usual precautions, and his lack of self-preservation had corralled him as surely as she was cooped up in this shed-like cage.
“Oh, you have time for this, master enforcer.” Axel’s tone was mild, as if he were discussing which flavor of Po’boy he wanted for his lunch. He grasped the collar of Rowan’s leather jacket.
Rowan glanced around. Axel was surrounded by his vassals; they stood shoulder to shoulder, but Rowan thought he could take them. His wolf let out a growl, and he stepped closer, nose to nose with the other man.
A baseball bat connected with the back of his knees, and for a moment, Rowan staggered, then let himself drop to complete his shift.
But it was a mistake, as soon as he dropped, the other wolves surrounded him and dragged him to the fighting ring at the pack house. Summer recognized the circle where she had bested Axel, and for the first time, she sensed the depth of his fury and desire for revenge.
She knew they should have paid Axel more attention. This wasn’t a random attack. Her incarceration far from her mate was organized. This was an Alpha challenge and had been Axel’s plan all along.
Through Rowan’s eyes, Summer glanced around at the pack members crowded around the ring.
Her mate had no allies here. They were all Axel’s affiliates.
A familiar-looking wolf raced to the ringside and shifted into his human shape.
Maurice. At least her mate had one ally.
Despite how ill the old alpha seemed. Lena, Marcus and others dashed into the backyard.
Axel initially looked furious. Clearly, he had planned their absences on purpose and for a much longer duration.
Summer did not want to know what would happen to the wolves who had failed to keep them away from this contest.