Chapter One #3
The pup curled against my thigh, warmth radiating through the thin fabric of my sweatpants.
Her breathing evened out, and I realized that, unlike every living creature I’d encountered tonight, she was completely at ease.
Like she’d expected this turn of events, and was just waiting for me to catch up.
The phone vibrated in my hand. Unknown number.
I answered unknown numbers. It’s a compulsion. Some people bite their nails; I like to know what’s coming for me.
I thumbed the screen.
“Flynn,” the voice said. Deep, unhurried, the kind of voice that didn’t just expect to be obeyed—it assumed it.
“This is he,” I said. My own voice sounded thin, artificial.
“If you want to live do exactly what I say.”
I was not, by nature, an obedient person. I made a small, ugly laugh. “Buddy, you have no idea how much that depends on context.”
“You have the child. Yes?”
I did not answer.
“They are already in your building.” The voice was smooth, not a flicker of threat, just the dead-flat confidence of someone who’d bet against me and won every time. “You have thirty seconds. Fire escape. Take the child. Down to the alley, black SUV, north end.”
“Who the fuck are you?” I said, but the line was already dead.
The pup’s head shot up. Ears pricked. From the hallway outside my apartment, I heard a soft, almost tender scuff of rubber on linoleum, followed by the slow, careful turn of my doorknob.
I moved.
The wolf pup went into the inside my jacket, zipped shut with her nose barely sticking out.
She made no sound. I slid the phone into my pocket, scooped the lollipop from the dresser, and was at the kitchen window in four steps.
The fire escape was three stories up, the landing slick with rain, but I’d done worse on less.
The door handle turned, slow and deliberate. Whoever was out there knew I was home, and wanted me to know that they knew.
I palmed my switchblade, thumb on the release, and popped the kitchen window. The rush of cold air slapped the yeast and sugar out of the room, and in the next heartbeat I was on the iron landing, feet bare, the baby-wolf solid and silent against my ribs.
The fire escape was exactly as I remembered it: three stories of rusted iron, slick with rain and treacherous as hell. I yanked the window shut behind me, cradling the pup in the crook of my arm.
Her body was hot against me, a steady pulse against my ribs. The city sounds receded until all I heard was my own breathing, the slap of bare feet on metal, and the quick, measured intakes from the pup as she tracked the air for threat.
The voice had been clear: down to the alley, black SUV, north end. Simple enough, if you ignored the three armed men stationed on the sidewalk, each one broad and clean-shaven and built like they ate Crossfit trainers for breakfast.
I took the descent by habit, knees bent, shoulders hunched low to absorb the landing.
My feet hit the second-story platform in a spray of cold water, and I braced myself against the rail as the puppy squirmed.
The men below didn’t look up. That’s how I knew they were professionals—no wasted motion, no bravado, just three predators waiting for the kill.
I dropped the last six feet to the pavement, rolled my ankle, and immediately pivoted to keep the wolf pup from eating concrete. A flash of pain, but I didn’t show it.
The baby-wolf—my stowaway—gave a single, indignant yip. One of the men looked up, his eyes glittering dark under the brim of his ball cap, then turned away like I was of no consequence.
I walked to the SUV, every muscle in my body coiled tight. The wolf pup trembled against my chest, but didn’t cry out again. The rear door opened before I reached it, like the vehicle had been waiting for me this whole time.
I slid in and immediately did a threat assessment: no handles on the inside, reinforced privacy screen between passenger and driver, smell of gun oil and fresh-cut leather.
My type of luxury.
The door closed with a soft click, and the driver pulled away from the curb so fast I had to plant my feet on the floorboard to keep from eating the seat in front of me.
Up front, I could see the backs of the men’s heads, shaved and shadowed, their postures identical. Nobody looked at me. Nobody spoke.
The wolf pup poked her nose out of my jacket, nostrils flaring.
The warmth of her body was the only thing in the car that felt alive.
I resisted the urge to stroke her fur, instead bracing my elbows on my knees and staring straight ahead.
My hands were steady, but I could feel the shakes waiting for their turn.
The SUV took corners aggressively, a siren’s edge to the speed, but inside was nothing but silence and the low whirr of climate control. Tinted windows made the city outside look like a washed-out watercolor, the lights of Portland streaked and unreal.
I shifted my weight. The men in front never acknowledged it. I cleared my throat. “You guys the Uber Black, or is this some newfangled kidnapping app I haven’t heard of?”
No response.
The pup whined, a quick, questioning sound. One of the men’s ears twitched, but he said nothing. I got the sense they’d been instructed not to speak to me. Maybe not even to look at me.
Fine. I could do silence.
I watched the scenery flicker by— bridges, streetlights, the blurred neon of the Steel Bridge sign, rain on the glass beading up and sliding sideways with every sharp turn. I counted the blocks, cataloged every left and right, mapped the route in my head.
We were heading south, deeper into downtown. I could feel the city’s shape changing, the buildings getting taller, the streets cleaner, the air thicker with money and threat.
The pup shifted, pressing her muzzle harder against the zipper. She was calm now, but the muscles under her fur were hard as knots. I whispered, low, so the men couldn’t hear, “We’re good, kid. Eyes up.”
The car finally slowed in front of a mirrored-glass building, the kind with security guards in blazers and lobbies lit up like surgical suites. I caught a glimpse of myself in the window—a thin, ragged human with a wolf poking out of his jacket.
We looked insane.
The man in the passenger seat turned and fixed me with a look that said get out.
I got out.
The sidewalk was cold and the wind off the river cut through my pants like razor wire. The wolf pup sniffed the air, blinked up at the lit towers, and tucked her face in tight.