Chapter 12
Grim
Just when I think she’s going to turn me down again, Wren gives a tiny smile.
“Sure. Why not?”
Yes!
I need to get to know her, befriend her, and Sally is going to help me do exactly that. Having her there will make this easier. It’ll take any notion of this being a date off the table, which is perfect.
“Great,” I say, trying hard not to sound too happy about it. “I hear they make a mean bacon-and-egg cheeseburger.” I pretend it’s the prospect of food that’s making me excited.
“Cheesesteak is my favorite,” Sally says as she grabs her purse from under the desk. Wren just shakes her head, but there’s a small smile playing at her lips.
We head toward the exit, pushing through the double doors into the afternoon heat. The sun hits my face, and I squint against the brightness.
We’re maybe ten steps from the building when Sally stops walking. She fishes her cellphone from her purse, staring down at the screen.
“It vibrated,” she tells us. “I have a message,” she adds unnecessarily.
I didn’t hear anything. Not a sound. My enhanced hearing should have picked it up, but there was nothing.
Her fingers swipe over the screen, her eyebrows drawing together in what looks like concern.
“Sorry, you two. It looks like I’m not going to make it after all.” She looks at Wren, her expression apologetic. “Something came up that needs my urgent attention.”
She’s quite the actress. I’m almost buying it.
“Oh no,” Wren says, her face already starting to flush. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine, just…um…work stuff.” Sally waves a hand. “Please get me one of those cheesesteak hoagies,” she asks Wren. “Sorry to do this to you, guys. I’m sure you’ll be fine without me.”
She’s already walking backward toward the clinic, still talking. Then she spins around and practically jogs back, disappearing inside.
I glance at Wren. She has a hand over her face, and her shoulders are hunched.
“I’m sorry about that.” Her voice is muffled through her fingers. She pulls her hand away, and her face is blood red. “Just in case you didn’t realize, Sally is trying to set us up.”
My first instinct is to smile. The urge is so strong it almost wins.
“That much is clear,” I say.
Wren’s flush deepens, spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt. She won’t meet my eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Grim.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell her.
“Ignore her. She means well,” Wren tells me.
“Look, let’s just go and get lunch.” The words tumble out of her in a rush.
“It’s all good because I don’t date people I work with.
” Her face somehow manages to go even redder.
“Not that I think your asking us out to lunch was you trying something with me.” She makes a groaning sound.
“What I’m trying to say is, ignore Sally.
She is sweet but completely misguided. You don’t have to feel awkward about this or anything. ”
I feel a twinge of disappointment when she tells me that she doesn’t date people she works with. Which is fucking ridiculous because I absolutely do not want to date her.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Of course. Sally means well,” I manage. “We should go.”
We head toward my SUV in awkward silence. I can feel the tension radiating off her, and I want to say something to make it less weird. But I don’t know what that would be, so I keep my mouth shut.
My SUV is parked at the far end of the lot, in the shade of a large tree. As we get closer, I hear the rumble of an engine.
A van pulls into the parking lot. It’s moving fast, tires screeching as it takes the turn too hard, parking right in front of us. The side door slides open before it even comes to a complete stop.
Males spill out.
Eight, maybe nine of them. All big. All mean-looking. They’re armed with knives, clubs, and a couple with chains wrapped around their fists.
I recognize one of them immediately. The blond hair, the gray eyes, that mean-looking face. It’s Kaine.
The runner I brought in last week. The conspiracy theorist.
“Grim?” Wren’s voice is small and uncertain. “Is that…?”
“Yes. It’s the anti-vaxxer from last week,” I confirm, my eyes never leaving the group. They’re fanning out, forming a loose semicircle. Cutting off our path to the SUV. Cutting off any easy escape.
“Why are they here?” Her voice trembles.
I don’t answer. I’m too busy assessing the situation. Nine against one. All of them armed. All of them pissed off.
This isn’t good.
Kaine steps forward, a sick smile spreading across his face. “Remember me, Grim?”
“Hard to forget,” I growl.
“You dragged me in here and forced that poison into my veins.” His smile turns into a snarl. “You’re one of them. A tool of the Mainland. A fucking traitor to your own kind.”
The other males start closing in, weapons at the ready.
“Wren,” I say, my voice low and urgent. “Run. Get back to the building. Barricade the door.”
“But—”
“Now!”
She takes off sprinting toward the clinic entrance. I move to intercept the nearest male, putting myself between them and her.
The first one comes at me with a knife. I dodge the blade and drive my fist into his gut. He doubles over, and I bring my knee up into his face. The crunch of his nose breaking is satisfying.
Two more rush me from opposite sides. I duck under one’s swing, catch the other’s wrist, and twist. The knife clatters to the ground, and I sweep his legs out from under him.
But there are too many of them.
A chain wraps around my ankle, and I’m yanked off balance. I hit the ground hard, rolling just in time to avoid a boot to the face. I grab the chain and pull, bringing the male holding it crashing down beside me.
I’m on my feet again, fists flying. Blood spatters across my knuckles. Someone else’s. Mine. I can’t tell anymore.
A blade slices across my forearm, and I hiss at the sting. But it’s already healing, my shifter blood knitting the wound closed.
I’m holding my own. Barely. But I’m holding.
Wren screams, and I turn toward her. Ice floods my veins.
One of them broke through. A big bastard with a shaved head has Wren locked in his arms. She’s fighting, kicking and clawing at his face, but he’s too strong.
He’s dragging her toward the clinic entrance.
“No!” The word rips from my throat.
My dragon roars inside me, a sound of pure rage that makes my body shake.
I launch myself at the group between Wren and me, abandoning any pretense of defense. I just need to get to her. Need to stop them.
A fist connects with my jaw, snapping my head back. Another blow catches me in the ribs. Then another. And another.
They’re beating me down, and I can’t stop them. Can’t get through.
Wren’s screaming my name now, terror in her voice.
The male has her at the clinic door. He’s trying to drag her inside.
What are they planning? What the fuck do they want? I hate each answer I get more than the last.
My dragon is going insane inside me, clawing to get out. The pressure is building, building, until I can’t contain it anymore.
I can’t help it.
I can’t stop it.
My bones start to crack and reform. My skin splits, and scales push through. The shift is happening, whether I want it to or not.
My last coherent thought is a desperate plea.
Don’t hurt Wren. Please don’t hurt her.
But I know it’s useless. My dragon is feral. He won’t listen. He can’t. He’s an animal intent on maiming and killing.
The last of my humanity is ripped away.
The beast takes over, and all I know is rage and blood and the need to destroy everything in my path.
Her included.