6. Finley
Finley
In the soft light of dawn, I pulled into the empty barn in the middle of nowhere.
The plan was to ditch the vehicle here and make my way to the safehouse on a dirtbike that was waiting for me.
As I got out of the rustbucket of a car that I was amazed still worked, my poor battered body started to protest being forced to move again.
Now that the adrenaline had left my system, the damage done by the panther was taking its toll.
Part of me wasn’t sure I could manage riding the dirt bike, but the safehouse had everything I needed to keep things from getting worse.
Not really having a choice, I pulled the bike out of the barn and kicked it into action, heading off through the open field where I seemed to hit every rut and bump in existence.
Finally, deep in the forest, I found the safehouse.
Well, it was more like a bunker than a house.
It looked like something a hobbit would live in, what with it being mostly underground.
Stashing the bike and covering it with camouflage, I logged into the access panel, and the door clunked open.
Pulling the steel door wide, I headed down the steps and into the bunker.
It was a simple space with two sets of bunk beds, a table with four chairs, and a small kitchenette for cooking simple meals.
The bathroom was a brick room with a toilet and a showerhead coming out of the wall.
Stripping out of my bodysuit, I washed myself, making sure to scrub all the cuts.
They should have been gashes, but along with increased reflexes and strength, it seemed that super healing was already kicking in.
At least I could be grateful for that one.
Clean, clothed, and safe, I couldn’t put off crashing any longer.
The moment my head hit the pillow, I passed out.
After sleeping for who knew how long, I finally managed to get out of bed.
My body hurt all over, and not just from the battle with the panther.
Even my joints ached. Stumbling over to the airtight pantry, I grabbed an MRE, not caring what was in it.
I just needed to stop my stomach from wanting to eat itself.
Ripping the main package open with my teeth, I didn’t bother to heat it up before I tore into the meal, supposedly some kind of beef stew.
I even ate the so-called biscuit that was nothing more than a tough, thin puck.
It wasn’t enough, so I grabbed another and ate everything in that one too.
Feeling completely out of control, I refused to let myself eat another.
Instead, I combined both protein shake mixes from the MREs and drank that, along with heating up some water for the coffee.
My hands shook as I tried not to panic about what was happening to me.
It was then that I noticed all the damage I’d received yesterday was gone.
I’d noticed increased healing before I went to sleep, but my brain had been far too overtaxed to think much about it.
Now, after sleeping, the bite on my forearm was nothing but some pink scars where the teeth had penetrated my skin.
Pulling the collar of my t-shirt away, I saw the same thing had happened to all the wounds I’d received from the panther.
“This is happening way too fast,” I muttered, standing and heading over to the safe where the laptop and satellite phone were kept.
The need to understand what was going on with my body drove me to find the person who could help me figure all this out.
The Organization might know a fair amount about the supernatural world, but they didn’t know how to help a newly bitten wolf like an alpha would.
Back at the table, I typed in Colt Harris’s name, searching for him in any register of the werewolf packs in the US.
From what Cory had said and the lack of any distinguishable accent, I didn’t think he’d been brought in from overseas.
I got five hits on the name, finding them listed alongside the names of their associated packs.
I dove deeper, looking into the history of each to see if they had any siblings or had contacted the Senate about a missing omega in their pack, and that brought it down to two.
Expanding my search, I pulled up all social media and anything else tied to these two men.
As soon as I pulled up the profile picture for Colt Harris, one of the alphas of the Knoxville, Tennessee pack, I knew I’d found the right one.
Cory and Colt could have been twins because there was no denying how closely they resembled each other.
Colt was older, with a thick, full beard, but they had the same honey-blond, curly hair with amber eyes.
His gaze was so commanding, even from just a picture, that I almost couldn’t look at it; the need to submit was so strong.
Closing the picture, I was able to take a deep breath once the pressure was gone. Okay, let’s try again without the picture. Pulling up his information, I found a few phone numbers listed, but I wasn’t sure which was current. I picked up the satellite phone, pausing before I dialed.
Am I really going to call this guy? If I did this, by law, he would have to take me in and be responsible for me because his brother had turned me.
Everything would change instantly. Once he was my alpha, I wouldn’t be able to work for the Organization without his permission, and being that I was an omega, he wouldn’t give it.
Especially since his brother had been taken from him all those years ago.
But what did I know about being a werewolf?
My life was going to change, one way or another, but right now I had to make a choice that would directly impact just how much it changed.
And how much help I’d have with managing those changes.
This wasn’t a decision to be made lightly.
Maybe I should just call Margaret and let her know what’s going on.
She would already know I was alive since I’d accessed the bunker.
Then again, I would have to tell her I fucked up and got bitten by a werewolf…
and was an omega, at that. Hell, Margaret might tell me that I had to contact this guy since we would be in hot water with the Senate for not following their shifter laws.
And that was on top of fucking this job up.
“UGH!” I yelled, slamming my fist on the table, which proceeded to leave a crack in the wood.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I typed in the first phone number and hit the call button. “I’m sorry, the caller you are trying to reach—” Hanging up, I went to the second, then the third, the fourth.
“Who the fuck is this, and how did you get this number?” a deep voice growled.
I almost dropped the phone, his tone alone making me want to run and hide.
Before I could stop myself, I whined, curling up into a ball on the chair.
What the hell is wrong with me that I’m acting like a scared child?
I’ve killed some of the worst of humanity, yet I’m cowering because of a voice on a phone? !
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he spoke again. “Easy, now. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he murmured, his voice soft and comforting. “This is a protected number that not many people are supposed to have. Can you tell me how you got this number, little one?”
He thinks I’m a kid.
“Cory. I’m looking for his brother, Colt Harris,” I answered, my voice hoarse from nerves.
“He told me to find him, that he would help me. Cory didn’t mean to bite me; he was scared, and I moved too fast. Everything is changing so fast I don't understand what is happening to me. I haven't even shifted yet.”
The more I spoke, the more irritated I was with myself. I sounded like a scared child, not the seasoned assassin that I’d been for the last twenty-five years.
“You know my brother?! Where is he? Tell me right this second!” Colt barked.
This time, I did drop the phone, backing away from it to crawl under the bottom bunk. Shivering, I felt tears of anger and frustration running down my cheeks at my inability to fight this reaction.
“He’s dead,” I whispered, afraid of the reaction my words were going to bring. “I couldn’t save him.”
The sounds that came out of the phone next seemed like someone was destroying everything in sight, crashing and banging, along with lots of swearing.
“Colt, what the fuck is going on?” another voice asked. “Who are you talking to? Give me that before you break it.”
There were sounds like someone was trying to take the phone from Colt, then it was silent for a bit.
“Hello? You still there?” the new voice asked.
This voice was warm and smooth, with a little bit of a Southern lilt to it. Crawling out from under the bunk, I reached for the phone again.
“I’m here.”
“Would you tell me your name, sweetheart?” the man asked.
I licked my lips, wanting to give him a false name just in case I hadn’t called the right person—even though the reaction to my news told me I had—but the pull to do as he requested was too strong.
“Finley,” I blurted, my voice cracking with the urgency to answer.
“Holy fuck.” The voice came back, shocked. “Finley, did you feel that you had to answer my question? Fuck, sorry! I’m guessing that didn’t help.”
“Yes, I can’t seem to fight against your request. Are you an alpha as well?” I inquired, thinking that could be the cause of this irrational behavior.
“Are you telling me that you feel my dominance that clearly through the phone?”
“Yes. Now, please, I’m begging you, stop asking me questions. I don’t even know who you are,” I gasped, putting all my resistance into my request.
“I’m sorry, Finley. I’ve never interacted with an omega before. My name is Lane Cunningham, and I’m the second alpha to the Knoxville Pack. Now, I really don’t want to do this, but I need to know where you are. We need to come get you,” Lane coaxed, keeping his voice soft.
“I’m in New York, about three hours north of New York City.
I’m in a safe location, and I can stay here for a while if I need to.
I am not in any immediate danger and can defend myself if the need arises,” I rattled off just like if I were talking to Margaret.
“I was on a job when I met Colt’s brother.
He bit me, and before he died, he told me to find his brother. ”
Lane cleared his throat, giving himself a moment before he answered. “Alright, we’ll go over all of that in more detail once we get to you. Colt and I will be on the next flight out. How can we get ahold of you when we arrive so we can find a meeting point?”
I gave him one of the emails I used with informants. “When I get your email, I’ll call back on this phone to arrange our meet-up location.”
“You’re oddly prepared for this kind of situation, not to mention extremely calm,” Lane mused without actually asking what he really wanted to. “How are you feeling?”
“My whole body aches, I’m starving, and my reactions to things are not normal to who I am and how I’ve been trained,” I responded, kicking myself for adding that last part on.
“You were hurt?!” Lane demanded.
“I’m fine now. When I woke up, I was healed.” I sighed, feeling a wave of tiredness hit me.
“Take a nap, then eat more food. Your body is working overtime to heal you. Once you shift for the first time, it will be easier and not so taxing.”
I gave a hum of agreement and headed over to the bunk, curling up once again with the phone laying by the pillow.
“We’ll be there soon. Be safe until then—that’s an order.”
“Yes, alpha,” I murmured before I drifted off to sleep.