Chapter 25
Hannah
My father turns off the main road and onto the long gravel drive. The tires crunch over loose stone. Towering pines rise on either side, their branches meeting overhead until the afternoon light is all but blocked out.
My stomach clenches.
There’s no traffic here. No houses close enough for anyone to see me. In a few minutes, Dr Whitmore will arrive, and my father will tell him exactly what he’s already told everyone else.
That I’m confused. That I’m frightened. That I don’t know what’s real.
I stare through the windshield as the trees close around us.
My father hasn’t spoken since I tried to get out of the car. He drives steadily towards the house, apparently satisfied that I’ve finally given up.
Good. Let him think that.
I force myself to sit still. My heart is hammering so violently I’m sure he must be able to hear it, but I keep my hands loose in my lap and my breathing as even as I can.
He slows as we approach the front steps. My muscles tense.
He pulls to a stop. His hand leaves the steering wheel.
Now.
I wrench open the door and run.
“Hannah!”
My feet hit the gravel hard. I nearly lose my footing, recover and sprint towards the trees.
“Hannah, stop!”
I don’t look back.
“Slow down! You’re going to hurt yourself!”
Even now.
Even here.
He’s still playing the worried father.
I hit the grass and run harder.
The woods are less than fifty yards away. Beyond them is the service track, and beyond that, the road.
If I can get there, someone will see me.
My father shouts my name again.
This time he’s closer.
I reach the trees and plunge between them. Branches whip across my face and snag in my hair as I run.
Behind me, something cracks.
He’s in the woods.
The ground drops towards the service track. I scramble down the bank, race across the dirt and start up the other side.
“Hannah!”
Too close.
My shoe slips. I grab at the earth, haul myself up and keep going.
Then I hear an engine.
It’s coming from somewhere ahead.
I shove through the last of the trees and stumble onto the road.
A pickup has already passed me. I catch a glimpse of its tailgate as it disappears around the bend to my left.
“Wait!”
I run after it, waving both arms, but within seconds it’s gone.
Shit.
I turn back.
The road stretches empty in the other direction.
Behind me, branches crack.
My father is still coming.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Come on.”
Then I hear another engine, this time from my right. A dark SUV rounds the bend, heading towards me. I run into the middle of the road and wave both arms above my head.
“Help!”
The driver brakes hard. The tires squeal as the SUV pulls up a few feet away from me.
I’m at the passenger door almost before it stops.
“Please.” I yank it open. “You have to help me.”
The man behind the wheel stares at me.
He’s in his sixties, wearing a faded baseball cap, and there’s something horribly familiar about his face.
Then his eyes widen.
“Hannah?”
My relief dies.
Frank Collins.
He owns the feed store outside town. He and my father have been friends for years.
“Jesus Christ.” He lets out a breath. “We’ve all been worried sick.”
“No. Frank, listen to me.”
His expression softens in a way that makes panic claw at my throat.
“You’re all right. You’re safe now.”
“No, I’m not. I need you to get me out of here.”
His brow furrows.
“Please. Just drive.”
“Hannah—”
“Frank.”
My father’s voice comes from behind me.
I spin around.
He emerges from the trees, breathing hard, his shirt snagged at one shoulder from the branches.
Frank’s whole face changes. “Oh, thank God.”
My father slows to a walk as he reaches the road.
“Sorry about this,” he says, catching his breath. “She got out of the car before I could stop her.”
I stare at him. He’s just chased me through half a mile of woods. And somehow, he’s already the reasonable one.
Frank climbs out of the SUV.
I grip the open passenger door. “Frank, I need you to listen to me. My father brought me here against my will.”
Frank looks between us.
My father rubs a hand over his face. “She’s exhausted. She hasn’t been sleeping properly, she’s barely eaten, and she’s been through God knows what over the past few days.”
“He lied to me.” I step closer to Frank. “He promised he’d get Professor Bennett released if I came back with him. Then he drove straight past the courthouse and wouldn’t let me out of the car.”
“She tried to jump out while we were driving,” my father says quietly.
“Because you wouldn’t stop!”
“Hannah—”
“Don’t fucking Hannah me.”
My father gives Frank a weary shake of his head.
“Dr Whitmore’s meeting us at the house.”
“Whitmore?”
“He’ll know what to do.”
“I don’t need a doctor.” I grab Frank’s arm. “I need you to take me back to town. Please.”
Frank looks down at my hand. “Hannah, maybe you should go with your dad.”
My stomach drops.
“Frank—”
“Just until the doctor’s seen you.”
I shake my head. He’s not going to help me.
Behind him, the SUV is still running.
I run.
“Hannah!”
I wrench open the driver’s door and throw myself behind the wheel. My hand goes straight to the ignition.
Empty.
I look up.
Frank has the keys.
My father is already coming towards me.
I’m out of the car before either of them reaches it.
I make it three steps.
My father catches me around the waist and hauls me backwards.
“Let me go!”
I drive my elbow into him and kick back, catching him in the shin. He grunts but holds on.
Frank hovers a few feet away, looking appalled.
“Hayes, maybe—”
“She’s going to hurt herself.”
“I’m going to hurt you!”
I twist against him, but he pins my arms against my sides.
An engine approaches along the road.
A silver Volvo slows beside us and turns onto the drive.
“Oh, thank God,” Frank says. “That’ll be Whitmore.”
My father’s breathing is ragged from chasing me, but when he speaks, his voice is perfectly calm.
“We’ll be fine now, Frank. Thanks for stopping.”
Frank hesitates.
“Don’t leave me with him.”
His face crumples. “Hannah—”
“Please.”
For a second, I think I’ve reached him.
Then he looks towards the Volvo disappearing up the drive.
“Dr Whitmore will take care of you.”
“Go on,” my father tells him. “I’ll call you later.”
Frank gives me one last troubled look before climbing back into his SUV.
I watch him drive away.
As soon as he disappears around the bend, my father grabs my wrist and twists my arm behind my back.
Pain shoots through my shoulder.
“Stop!”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then let me go!”
“You’ve made that impossible.”
He forces me towards the house.
I dig my heels into the gravel, but he keeps me moving.
“Keep fighting me if you want,” he says, almost conversationally. “But when Whitmore asks why I had to drag you home, I’ll tell him.”
I stop struggling.
“I’ll tell him you tried to jump out of a moving car. That you ran into the road. That you tried to steal Frank’s vehicle.”
My stomach drops.
Every word is true.
Just not in the way he’ll tell it.
“And the more you fight me now, the easier you’re going to make this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If Whitmore decides you need something to calm you down, that’ll be his decision.”
A chill runs through me.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Hannah, I’ve spent twenty-four years building a reputation in this town. As far as everyone here is concerned, you’ve just escaped from the man who kidnapped you.”
He starts walking again, dragging me with him.
“Who do you think Whitmore’s going to believe?”
The Volvo is parked beside the house by the time we reach the drive.
Dr Whitmore climbs out carrying a battered leather bag. Relief spreads across his face when he sees me.
“Hannah. Thank goodness.”
I try to pull away from my father.
“Dr Whitmore, please. Tell him to let me go.”
“She’s had a difficult afternoon,” my father says.
“He brought me here against my will. I’m not going inside that house.”
Dr Whitmore looks between us.
A crack sounds from the woods behind us.
He turns.
Another follows, louder this time. Something large is moving through the trees. Branches snap. Undergrowth thrashes violently.
“What on earth is that?” Dr Whitmore murmurs.
Then an enormous grizzly bursts out of the trees. For one impossible second, all I see is apex predator.
Then I see his face. His eyes.
My heart pounds.
Torin.
He came for me.
My father takes a step forward, staring at the bear in disbelief. “Cade? What the fuck are you doing here?”
Torin keeps coming.
“I told you to stay on the mountain,” he yells, his face turning a dull red.
Dr Whitmore looks sharply at him.
“Cade. Shift.” My father’s voice hardens. “I said shift.”
Torin advances steadily towards us.
My father frowns.
His hand drops to his holster.
“Cade.”
Torin lowers his head.
My father draws his gun. “Don’t make me shoot you.”
He fires. The shot hits Torin high in the shoulder.
He jerks with the impact.
And keeps coming.
My father stares at him. Then he grabs me and pulls me in front of him.
I stumble against his chest, and the barrel of the gun presses into my shoulder.
“Hayes.” Dr Whitmore looks aghast. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Stay out of it.”
“Put the gun down.”
My father’s breathing is ragged now. He looks past me at Torin, and his voice changes. “Take her. You wanted her, didn’t you?” he shouts. “Take her!”
My stomach turns.
“Just get her out of here. Keep her quiet. I don’t care how.”
Dr Whitmore goes completely still. My father has forgotten he’s even there.
Dr Whitmore steps towards me.
“Hayes, let Hannah go.”
“Stay back.”
“She’s terrified.”
“I said stay back!”
Dr Whitmore reaches for my arm.
My father jerks me away from him.
The gun goes off.
The shot cracks through the clearing. Dr Whitmore cries out and staggers backwards, one hand flying to his shoulder. Blood appears between his fingers.
Torin charges.
My father shoves me aside and swings the gun towards him.
He doesn’t get the chance to fire again.
Torin hits him with enough force to lift him off his feet. They crash onto the gravel, the gun flying from his hand and skidding beneath the Volvo.
My father tries to scramble away. Torin slams one enormous paw onto his chest and pins him flat.
“Jesus Christ,” Dr Whitmore gasps.
Torin stands over my father, teeth bared, a growl rolling from deep inside his chest.
For the first time, I see terror on my father’s face.
Torin lowers his head.
He could kill him.
“Don’t kill him.”
Torin looks at me.
“He needs to answer for this.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move.
Then the huge body begins to change.
His shoulders narrow. Fur recedes. Claws shorten into fingers until Torin is crouched naked over my father, one knee planted on his ribcage.
My father stares up at him.
“Who the hell are you?”
Torin’s chest is still heaving.
“I’m Torin. Hannah’s mate.”
My father looks at me, then back at Torin.
“And now you think she belongs to you?”
“No.” Torin’s answer is immediate. “That’s the difference between you and me.”
His grip tightens on my father’s shirt.
“She doesn’t belong to anyone. She chose me. And I chose her.”
Dr Whitmore groans.
I turn towards him.
He’s slumped against the front wheel of his Volvo with one hand pressed to his shoulder. Blood has soaked through his shirt and is running down his arm.
“We need an ambulance.”
“My phone’s in my jacket,” he gasps.
I find it and pull it from his pocket. My hands are shaking so badly I nearly drop it.
I call 911.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“Two people have been shot. We need an ambulance at the Hayes residence on Ridge Road.”
Dr Whitmore grips my wrist.
“Tell them who shot me.”
I look at him.
“Sheriff Hayes,” he says clearly. “Tell them Sheriff Hayes shot me.”
Behind me, my father lets out a hoarse laugh. “You really think this changes anything?”
I look back. Torin is still holding him down.
“When the deputies get here, what exactly are you going to tell them?” my father demands. “That a bear attacked the sheriff in his own driveway?”
Torin doesn’t answer.
“You think they’re going to take his word over mine?”
“They won’t have to,” Dr Whitmore says.
My father goes quiet.
“I saw what happened. I heard what you said to that bear. I saw you use Hannah as a shield.” His voice is strained with pain, but perfectly clear. “And I saw you shoot me.”
My father stares at him.
Dr Whitmore turns to me.
“Hannah, I’m sorry.”
My throat tightens.
“I believed him.”
The dispatcher is still talking in my ear. I answer her questions while keeping pressure on Dr Whitmore’s shoulder, then she tells me help is on the way.
Across the drive, my father starts struggling again.
“Get the fuck off me.”
Torin barely moves. “Stay down.”
“I said get off me!”
“You can keep saying it.”
Despite everything, a laugh catches in my throat.
My father glares at him.
Dr Whitmore shifts beside me and sucks in a sharp breath.
“Sorry.” I adjust my hand.
“You’re doing fine.”
Somewhere in the distance, a siren begins to wail.
My father hears it too. He stops struggling. Dr Whitmore saw everything. The deputies are coming. And Torin is sitting on his chest.
I look across the driveway at him. He’s naked, filthy, breathing hard, with bits of pine needle caught in his hair. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
But blood is running down his arm.
Oh God.
“Torin. You’ve been shot.”
He glances at his shoulder as if he’d almost forgotten about it.
“It’ll heal. I’m a bear.”
A laugh escapes me. It comes out dangerously close to a sob.
“You okay?”
I nod, although tears are starting to blur my vision. “You found me.”
His expression softens. “Of course I did.”
The sirens grow louder.
I keep one hand pressed against Dr Whitmore’s shoulder and look at my mate.
Of course he did.