Chapter 28 Dark Roads, Old Scars
Dark Roads, Old Scars
The rain fell in icy needles. I didn’t look back at the cabin. I couldn’t. If I did, I might see Florence’s pity. Or Ethel’s knowing stare. And I was already cracking.
Mateo was a bundle of borrowed quilts that Aiden had thrown over him before I rushed out the door.
He weighed less than he should, but the rise and fall of his breath was even.
Every time my pulse threatened to jackhammer out of rhythm, I looked down and counted the seconds between inhales and exhales.
My shoes crunched against the wet ground, each step an effort to keep from shaking. Not from the cold. From the ache clawing up my throat.
Cody stood by the SUV parked at the edge of the tree line.
He unfolded himself from under an open umbrella and wrenched open the rear passenger door without a word.
I helped Mateo scramble inside, shielding him from the rain as best as I could, and helped him settle into the backseat. Then I joined him.
Aiden emerged from behind me, boots squelching in the mud and shoulders hunched in that way he only did when he was pretending not to be angry.
He caught Cody’s eye, and something silent passed between them.
Cody gave a tight nod and slipped back toward the porch, where Florence was standing.
Ethel wasn’t visible, but her presence lingered nearby.
Aiden settled into the driver’s seat and shifted into drive. The dashboard lights painted his face in hard, geometric shadows. He said nothing.
Neither did I.
The headlights stabbed out into the rain, and for the first half mile, all I could focus on was the sound of the wipers and Mateo’s strained breath.
The road away from the cabin was a rollercoaster of blind curves, slick with mud.
The forest pressed in on either side, the evergreens heavy with water.
The farther we drove, the more my body unclenched, like shedding skins with every mile we passed.
At the same time, a new pressure built in my chest: the certainty that whatever came next would be worse.
And it was my job to meet it head-on.
Aiden’s hands were locked at ten and two on the wheel, his knuckles pale with tension.
He drove fast, but each movement was controlled.
His gaze never left the road, not even when a branch clattered across the hood.
I wanted to say something, to ask if he had a plan, but the words got stuck somewhere behind my teeth.
Aiden’s voice sliced through the tension. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me to drive you. I just needed to make sure you were back alright.”
I flicked a glance his way, anger still simmering from earlier. Instead of answering, I turned my gaze to the rain-smeared window.
He cleared his throat before speaking again. “We don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
I almost laughed. “Decisions were made for me a long time ago.”
The words hung there between us, heavy and bitter. His hands tightened on the wheel even more. The muscles in his jaw flexed like he was grinding back a question, or maybe a curse.
The hum of the tires filled the silence, but I could feel his attention on me even with his eyes fixed on the road. Not pushy. Not prying. Just… there.
And that was almost worse.
Because now, I had to sit with the truth of it, and the truth was a shadow I’d been trying to outrun for over a decade.
I shifted in my seat, staring out at the black smear of forest racing past the window. “If you’re wondering… no. It wasn’t some tragic, forbidden romance. It was teenage innocence colliding with something dark. Someone decided my life, and my body, were theirs.”
Aiden’s fingers went white on the wheel. His jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling like he was holding back a growl. “Who.”
It wasn’t a question, just a threat wrapped in a word.
I shook my head, but the knot in my throat tightened. “Doesn’t matter.”
His growl was low, guttural. “Josie, in my world, predators don’t just disappear. They go to the ground. And if this was shifter business…” his voice dipped, all teeth and threat, “…then they were protected. Which means someone still knows exactly where they’re hiding.”
I didn’t answer, but my pulse betrayed me, skipping like a stone.
He caught it, of course.
“Tell me,” he said, softer now but still firm. “I don’t care how many titles he has, or what pack he belongs to. If he’s still breathing, I’ll find him.”
I swallowed, wishing I could believe vengeance would fix anything. But some wounds didn’t heal. Some just became part of the architecture of who you were.
So I looked back out at the trees and let the silence settle again, because if I said his name, there’d be no going back.
And I wasn’t ready.
Not yet.
We drove for miles without another word. Somewhere between the turns, exhaustion crept in. The hum of the tires felt like a lullaby I didn’t want to trust.
When the tree line broke, and the rain stopped, the sky stretched wide and endless, stars scattered like frost on black glass. I turned and adjusted Mateo’s quilt, relishing the gentle rise and fall of his breath.
Aiden glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his profile cut in hard lines by the dashboard lights. “Where to?”
The answer was already in my mouth. “Home.”
His grip tightened on the wheel. “Josie, your apartment might not be the safest right now.”
“I know.” My voice didn’t rise or waver.
His brow lifted slightly, eyes flicking to mine for a beat. “Then, home as in…?”
“My hometown,” I said. “If there are answers about Mateo… about me… they’ll be there.”
He didn’t argue, just gave one short nod. The turnoff to the highway came into view, a dark ribbon leading south. Aiden flicked on the blinker and merged us onto it.
The highway stretched ahead in a long, unbroken line. After a quick stop to pump some gas, I moved to the passenger seat. Mateo was asleep, curled in the back seat. Aiden’s hands rested at the wheel, steady under his grip.
“You’ve got that look,” he said after a while.
“What look?”
“The one that says you’re already halfway down a road you don’t want to be on.”
I gave a humorless huff. “That’s the story of my life.”
His eyes flicked toward me, catching the light from an oncoming car. “You’re not alone on this one, Josie. Whether you like it or not.”
“That supposed to be comforting?” I asked, my tone sharper than I meant.
“It’s supposed to be true.”
I turned back toward the window, watching the branches whip past. The movement stirred something uneasy deep in my chest. Something I couldn’t name yet.
Aiden must’ve noticed my grip tightening on my seatbelt, because his voice softened. “Stay with me, alright? Whatever you’re thinking about… don’t go there unless you have to.”
“Some things don’t give you a choice.”
“Then I’ll pull you back,” he said with a quiet certainty.
I didn’t answer. But his words became something to hold onto when the shadows in my mind began to move.
For a while, the rhythm of the tires on the road was like a lullaby.
At first, I pretended not to notice. But every new stretch of road built a bridge straight back to places I’d left buried.
I pressed my forehead to the glass, hoping the cold would knock the memory loose. Instead, it brought the night closer.
The trees blurred on either side, branches sweeping past. Between the trunks, light flickered, sometimes a farmhouse porch, sometimes a high, orange glare. The effect was so random it might have been a trick. But my brain turned the faint orange glow of a streetlamp into firelight.
I blinked hard and looked away from the window.
The darkness inside the car was just as thick.
The dash lights bled under my skin, even with my eyes closed.
I tried counting backwards from a hundred.
Then from a thousand. But the numbers just tangled up with breath, which was coming faster now, shallower.
I forced my hands open. My nails had already left little crescent marks in my palms. For a moment, I pressed my thumbnail into my index finger, focusing on the pain. It was sharp and clean. Real. But as soon as I let go, the memories rushed back in.
“You’re mine now,” said a voice I recognized. Not Aiden’s. But even after all these years, I knew the cadence of it.
I shook my head, trying to fling the sound away. I glanced out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of reality. But all I saw were my wide eyes reflected back at me.
Aiden said something. Maybe my name.
I didn’t catch it.
The memory was loud. Too loud.
I was back on the ground, hands pinned by a grip so tight it hurt. My throat burned. I could taste the bitter tang of fear. The smell of wet earth.
I tried to move.
But I couldn’t.
I tried to open my hands again.
They refused.
Needed air.
Needed out.
Couldn’t breathe.
I became aware, in a distant way, that my breathing was ragged.
That Mateo was making a small, uncertain noise.
I kept my eyes on the window, not trusting myself to look anywhere else.
I was back in my body, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that a piece of me was still out there, small and helpless.
Aiden’s hands were on my arm, gentle but steady, making slow circles with his thumb. “Josie.” His voice. Close. Steady. “Look at me.”
I blinked, the scene snapping, shattering like thin glass. I was still in the passenger seat, my fingers clenched so tightly that my knuckles ached.
“You’re here,” Aiden said. “Right now.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the road when another car passed by. “Breathe with me.”
I did, and the sight of him dragged me back the rest of the way.
“There you are,” he murmured.
I let out a shaky breath. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, voice firm but quiet. “You’re not the one who needs to answer for anything.”