Chapter Eight
Willow
Willow moved through the healer’s den with hands that felt clumsier than usual. She had barely slept. The ground had been cold and hard and her body was still sore in places she hadn’t known could ache.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the way Logan had looked at her in the moonlight. It had made her feel alive.
Now, hours later, she stood in the muted light of the healer’s workroom, grinding herbs in a mortar while her thoughts refused to stay where they were supposed to. Her lips still felt swollen from their kisses. And her heart… her heart wouldn’t stop whispering his name.
“Willow,” Marta said, not unkindly. “If you grind that any more, there’s be nothing left but dust.”
Willow blinked, startled. She looked down. The leaves in the mortar were already past use.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
Marta raised an eyebrow as she approached. “You’re distracted. That’s not like you.”
“I didn’t sleep much,” Willow said quickly. “Too much on my mind.”
The older woman made a noncommittal noise, then took the pestle gently from Willow’s hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone in this den lost sleep for reasons they didn’t want to say aloud.”
Willow offered a tight smile but didn’t respond.
She couldn’t talk about Logan, even if she wanted to.
She trusted Marta, but she didn’t want to put her in the position of knowing things that could get her into trouble.
If Derek ever found out she knew about Logan, but didn’t come forward with the information, Willow didn’t want to think about what he might do to her.
It was one thing to risk that for herself, but she could never put Marta in that kind of danger.
Marta gave her a sidelong glance as she set the ruined mixture aside. “You seem… different today.”
Willow turned toward the herb rack to hide the heat that flushed over her cheeks. “Do I?”
“Hmm. Lighter. Less like you’re carrying the entire damn mountain on your back.” Marta’s voice was casual, but her eyes were sharp.
Willow busied herself with pulling jars down off the shelf, though her fingers shook. “It’s nothing.”
“I didn’t say it was anything,” Marta said. “But I’ve tended to wolves for over three decades, and I know when one of them has something important on their mind.”
Willow didn’t dare reply, but after a moment, Marta relented and moved on to mix up some salve, leaving Willow alone with her thoughts.
Willow didn’t know what she had done differently that had given her distraction away to the healer.
Maybe it was the way she walked with lighter steps to match the lightness in her heart.
Or perhaps it was the way she couldn’t stop glancing toward the trees beyond the den’s window and counting down the hours until she saw Logan again.
However, even as the warmth from earlier clung to her skin, that uneasy prickle hadn’t left.
That morning, as she made her way to Marta’s den, she’d had the uncomfortable sensation of being watched.
Of someone’s eyes following her just beyond the tree line.
She’d checked several times and hadn’t seen anyone there, but that hadn’t put her mind at rest. Eventually, she’d decided that she was just being paranoid because of her clandestine meeting with Logan.
If someone had seen them together, Derek would have showed up already, spitting nails.
By midday, the sun had climbed high, but the warmth it cast did little to settle the chill still coiled in Willow’s gut.
She knelt in the rear storage room of the healer’s den, sorting dried plants into bundles, when she heard the heavy cadence of boots passing by the window. She knew those footsteps well. Brant.
Willow wasn’t as familiar with the man he was talking to, although she recognized his voice. She’d seen him around a few times, but she’d never spoken to him directly. She stopped what she was doing and tilted her head, trying to listen to what they were saying.
“Yeah, he already knows,” Brant said. “And he’s not happy.”
There was a beat of silence, then, “What’s he going to do about it?”
“Make an example of her, I hope. Whatever he does, it’ll be public. You can be sure about that.”
Another couple of sentences were uttered, but the men had already moved on past the window and Willow hadn’t been able to make out what they’d said.
Her blood turned to ice.
She didn’t know if were talking about her, of course, and maybe it was just paranoia, but her stomach twisted uncomfortably anyway. The day dragged by painfully slowly, but eventually the afternoon came and went, and nightfall set in, and no-one came for her.
Something else. They’d been talking about something else. And she needed to be careful or she’d give herself away through her paranoia.
Willow said goodbye to Marta, then slipped out through the rear door, moving quickly toward the forest. Her heart pounded with every step and her ears tuned in to every snapping twig or fluttering leaf. But there was no one there. Just her imagination, or a wild animal, perhaps.
She finally allowed herself to breathe out a sigh of relief and let a small smile slide into place on her lips.
She couldn’t wait to see Logan again and wondered if he was just as eager to see her.
She had a ton of questions stored up to ask him.
She hoped he wouldn’t mind answering them all.
She wanted to know everything about him.
What he’d dream of as a child. What he dreamed of now.
Hell, what his favorite color was. There was nothing about him she could ever find uninteresting.
She reached the old trail near the clearing, already imagining the look on his face as he saw her when a branch cracked behind her.
Willow spun around at the sound, her heart lodging somewhere in the vicinity of throat when rough arms grabbed her from both sides, jerking her off balance.
She struggled, and twisted, but another set of hands closed around her wrists.
There were three of them. Brant and the man he’d been talking to earlier, and a third man she didn’t know.
He growled close to her ear, “Alpha wants a word with you.”
Willow didn’t scream. She knew better.
But she was done being the meek little omega.
She kicked out at him, landing a blow that had zero impact.
Brant chuckled as he yanked a cloth sack over her head.
The scent of damp earth and sweat filled her lungs, and she thrashed against the grip of the enforcers, panic spiking with every jerk of her limbs.
She couldn’t see, and couldn’t breathe properly under the rough sack.
The ground slipped beneath her feet as they dragged her forward.
“Let go of me!” she hissed, her voice muffled and wild with fear.
A blow to the back of her legs sent her to her knees. Pain shot through her shins as they struck something hard.
Brant’s voice was close. “You don’t learn, do you?”
She turned her head toward him instinctively…just as the heavy crack of something blunt connected with the side of her skull.
Then everything went black.
*
When she came to, a throbbing ache pulsed behind her left eye, and her head felt like it had been split open with a dull blade. Cold stone pressed against her cheek. She was lying on the floor, somewhere damp. Somewhere that smelled like mildew and blood.
Willow moved a fraction and realized her hands were bound. Her wolf snarled inside her, circling, wild and trapped. It wanted out, but Willow didn’t have the strength to shift.
When footsteps approached, she lifted her head. Derek stood just inside the door to the room, his hands folded behind his back, his mouth curled into a slow, deliberate smile.
“There she is,” he said, like he was greeting a wayward pup. “I was beginning to wonder if Brant had hit you too hard.”
When Willow said nothing, Derek crouched in front of her, tilting his head. “Someone in town recognized your friend. Logan Walters. Now there’s a blast from the past.”
Will sucked in a quick breath.
“What?” Derek asked around a grin. “You didn’t think you could sneak around behind my back without me finding out, did you?
You should know, I have eyes and ears everywhere.
I must say, I’m curious to know what Logan is doing back in town.
I should have killed him when I had the chance.
Never mind, plenty of time to rectify that mistake. ”
Willow froze.
The thought of Derek hurting Logan, or worse, made bile rise up in the back of her throat.
She jutted out her jaw stubbornly. “He’ll come looking for me when I don’t show up.”
Derek’s grin broadened. “Oh, I’m counting on it.” He rose slowly to his feet. “You see, this isn’t just about punishing disobedience anymore. It’s about sending a message to every wolf who thinks they can defy me. To every outsider who thinks this pack—my pack—is theirs to interfere with.”
He turned away, speaking almost to himself now.
“I think I’ll kill him in front of you. Or perhaps I’ll kill you in front of him. I haven’t decided yet. Either way will get the message across loud and clear, don’t you think?”
Willow didn’t respond. Her heart hammered inside her chest, and suddenly she didn’t want Logan to come to rescue her. She wanted him to stay as far away from this place as possible.