Chapter 11
Adea
I reached for the book in my lap. Cruel Devotion was about a young woman snatched from her bed, her family murdered by a gruesome beast. Last I left off, she was being dragged through the woods, and I was desperate to disappear into someone else’s nightmare.
Before I could crack the spine, Gabe snatched it.
“No, no, no. We are not doing the ‘library nerd’ thing today. Save the monsters for bedtime or when you’re sulking.
We are on top of the world now, babes,” he said, tossing the paperback into the backseat.
I flinched and twisted my body, the need to ensure it landed safely made me move without thought.
I sighed when I found it still in perfect condition on his leather seats. I chewed my bottom lip, flipping back around and scowling at him. If only the monsters stayed in the books. “Fine. What’s the snack situation?”
“Non-existent. You bulldozed through my stash. Pit stop is a must,” Gabe decided. I socked him in the shoulder.
“I did no such thing! You’re a trash panda.
Your lap is literally a bag graveyard!” I grabbed the bags and threw them at my feet.
He pulled a hand to his chest and had the audacity to act appalled.
Then he veered off the exit at the last possible second, pulling the Challenger into a dusty, middle-of-nowhere gas station right off the highway that looked like it hadn’t seen a coat of paint in decades.
The air outside the car was so hot I felt it with every breath.
We were the only ones here and I gave him a ‘you better be ready to run if someone jumps out to kill us’ look.
Inside the station, the air conditioning was a dying, metallic shriek that made me grind my teeth.
We moved through the aisles, scavenging.
I stood on my tiptoes and found Gabe with an armful.
I rushed my haul to the counter: three chocolate bars, pepper-chips, and three different kinds of cookies.
Gabe was the responsible adult and had bottles of water, vitamin packets, things to make sandwiches, and his favorite—tropical gummies.
Gabe dumped a handful of jerky onto the pile. “Protein,” he winked. “For the beast within.”
I laughed, a genuine, small sound that surprised me. For a second, Shane felt miles away.
The bell above the door gave a sad chime as we pushed back out into the sun. The heat hit hard, thick with the scent of burnt sweets and rotting roadkill.
“Six more hours,” Gabe said, quieter than before. “We have to clear the pass before dark, or we’re stuck up here.”
He said it easily, the way you do when anywhere is fine as long as it isn’t alone. I recognized the deflection because I used it too. He looked up at the horizon, where the peaks of the Northern mountaintops sat, a wall of iron against the sky.
“Why’s that?” I asked, climbing into the leather seat.
“There’s a snowstorm coming.” The car jerked as he jumped in.
“Snow? In this heat?” I didn’t have my wolf, but snow in the desert didn’t make sense.
“It’s hot here, yeah. But in the mountains…” he trailed off as the car rumbled to life. “The mountains have their own rules. And if we’re caught in it, it’ll be dangerous descending in it.”
He shifted into gear and peeled out, the rocks flying behind us.
Two hours later, we were making our ascent.
The climb was brutal and I dug my nails deep into the cracked leather of the dashboard.
The Challenger’s engine roared in a lower, angrier register as we spiraled up the narrow pass.
I expected greenery on a mountain, but it didn’t just thin; it died.
And then, the impossible happened, the oppressive heat vanished.
One minute I was wiping sweat from my neck, and the next, a heavy mist swallowed the car.
“Gabe?” I whispered, watching a white flake hit the windshield. Then another, then a cluster of them came through the open window and melted on my arm.
“What the…” Gabe slowed as he looked out his window. “It’s not supposed to snow for another three hours.”
The further we went, the heavier the snowfall until we were in the middle of a full-blown snowstorm. It was eerie—the red paint of the car stark against the white-out. It was more than a storm; it felt like the mountain itself was trying to push us off its back.
The lack of cars rattled me. It was unnaturally still up here, save for the thump-thump of the wipers. We were suspended in a freezing, white void, caught between the old world and the new one that wanted to claim us.
I giggled manically. Gabe whipped his head to me, his blue eyes wide.
“Now is not the time for you to lose your shit, Ady,” he reprimanded, but it only made me laugh harder.
“This is probably the worst time,” I wheezed as I squeezed my thighs together, “but I need to pee.” The cold must be making my bladder shrink, that or the three bottles of water I’d downed.
Gabe rolled his head forward, his shoulders shaking. “Fuck, so do I. I can’t see five feet in front of the hood.”
He pulled onto a narrow shoulder and the tires slid through the fresh slush.
“We’re pulling over here?” I asked, gobsmacked as the driver’s door slammed. He was already running around to my side and aiming away. I stepped, scrambling beside him and facing the opposite direction.
“Ady, I swear on the Goddess if you pee on my leg,” he hissed as smoke rose. Relief flooded me as my bladder emptied.
“Keep it up and I’ll do it on purpose!” I teased. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at me. I pinched his calf muscle.
“Don’t look at me!”
“I can’t even see over my own hand, let alone you!” he hollered back.
I was crouched low as the snowfall grew heavier by the second. The only positives were that I didn’t have to drive and there weren’t any other cars zooming past. “I need to wipe,” I admitted.
“Of course you do,” he sighed.
“I can’t just stand up and tap my tip like you can,” I grumbled.
He disappeared into the car and walked backward toward me, napkins from the gas station in hand.
Suddenly, the absurdity of it hit me as I took it from him. Here we were, two wolves from a high-stakes pack, fleeing one nightmare for another, relieving ourselves in a snowstorm on a mountain that shouldn’t be freezing.
A giggle bubbled up in my chest. Then a snort. But for a fleeting second, right beneath the laughter, a profound silence echoed through me. It was the quiet beneath my ribs where a wolf should have been pacing, or telling me I was out in the open—a stinging reminder of exactly what I was missing.
“What are you laughing at?” Gabe shouted, his voice laced with his own suppressed laughter.
“We’re going to be the prettiest girls at the party!” I laughed, throwing Mavy’s words into the wind. “Makeup and glitter, Gabe! We’re going to be stunning!”
Gabe let out a loud, booming bark of a laugh that echoed off the rocks. “I’m going to wear the heels, Ady!”
We scrambled back into the car, shivering and breathless. The car mats were now sprinkled with melted droplets. The laughter carried for a few miles.
We sat in the car for a moment, the heater blasting as we watched the wipers fight the snow.
The laughter died, replaced by the heavy realization that once we started down this mountain, there was no turning back.
Gabe handed me a gummy bear, and I took the silent peace offering and bit the head off as we lingered for a few more moments.
We hit the top and began the long descent down the other side of the mountain.
The snow turned to sleet and the mist burned away, revealing a horizon that shimmered with heat.
Every mile we dropped tightened something around my lungs, a tether pulling taut.
This heat? It was the desert breathing down our necks.
With its return, it brought dread. I reached over and squeezed Gabe’s hand.
The last hour of the drive passed without a word. The sun was beginning to set, bleeding across the horizon in shades of bruised purple and violent orange. Up ahead, long farmlands quickly surrendered to the harsh, sun-baked earth.
Gabe let out a low whistle as the skyline finally appeared.
This wasn’t a village. It was a fortress. Tall, sleek buildings of obsidian and glass rose from the dust, reflecting the dying sun.
We passed the massive stone gates, the words carved in black: WELCOME TO DESERT MOON.