Running with Wolves

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“What do you want to know?” he asked, hesitation strong in his voice.

“Tell me about my dad. Did you really know him?”

“Yes. He was a good friend of mine.”

“How is that possible? You were a kid.”

“Because once you go through the change, you age differently.”

“How do you mean?”

He leaned toward her, dropping his voice. “You age very slowly.”

She stared at him, amazed by the implication of his words. “How slowly?” she whispered. “How old are you?”

“Eighty-five.”

“Get out.” She stared at him, at the plumpness of youth beneath his cheeks and eyes, the even tones and smooth skin. “Eighty-five? No way.”

“It’s true. Our life expectancy is somewhere around four hundred.”

“Seriously?” She downed another sausage as she tried to absorb what he’d told her. Four hundred.

“I’m not sure I would want to live that long,” she said honestly. She was only twenty-three and life had already been...hard.

“Shay, you’re not alone,” he said, seemingly reading her mind. “You have family waiting for you back at The Colony.”

She looked up at him, her eyes widening, her heart afraid to beat. No, she was alone. She’d lost everyone, one after another until there was no one left. Just her and Buddy, in their little house in the woods.

“Your family is anxious to meet you. Grandparents. A cousin.”

Shay shook her head, her breakfast forgotten, her mouth dry. “My dad said he didn’t have anyone.” The words came out a hoarse whisper.

“I suppose to him he didn’t. He had to leave them behind and never look back. But they are still there, waiting for you. You even have a house—your dad’s old house. It’s a great place right on the lake. Your dad loved to sit in an old chair out on the end of his dock and fish. You and Buddy will love it there.”

Tears watered Shay’s eyes. She blinked. “I...I thought I—” A lump caught in her throat.

“I know I’ve given you a lot to absorb, but if you believe nothing else, please believe that you have family anxious to meet you, and they’ve been waiting to do so for a very long time. Will you come with me to The Colony?”

“Are you actually asking?” She couldn’t help the smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

He nodded and leaned back in the booth, amusement dancing in his eyes and suddenly he looked as handsome to her as he had that first moment she’d laid eyes on him. “I’m asking.”

She thought of her father’s parents and knew she had to meet them. She had to see for herself. “Yes, I’d like to come. I’d like to see this place where my dad once lived, I’d like to meet my family. But I’m not promising I’ll stay.”

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

She turned her attention back to her plate, but no longer felt the need to devour what was left. Instead she picked at her food while discreetly watching him. She didn’t know if it was because of the way he’d held her through her pain, or the way he just seemed to know what she needed, but she was beginning to see him differently than she had before. More as a friend than someone who was dismantling her life.

Who was she kidding? Last night she’d wanted him to be much more than a friend. His sure touch, his warm hands had stroked away her pain and made her want so much more than just comfort. He looked up from his breakfast, his bluish-gray eyes locking on to hers and holding steady. Heat suffused her cheeks and she dropped her gaze back to her plate.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked with a strange hitch to his voice. She looked up at him and couldn’t help wondering if he knew what she’d been thinking. “There’s a whole community waiting for your arrival.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. She finished the last of her coffee as he rose to pay the bill. A pickup truck had pulled into the parking lot and parked next to Jason’s. Buddy was standing up in the front seat, barking at the two men who hopped out of the cab and were walking toward them. She didn’t need to see the cloud of darkness swirling around them to know they weren’t here for the food.

They were here for her.

She could sense it from the energy flowing from their minds, see it in the dark auras swirling around their heads. She looked at Jason standing in line at the cash register and then at Buddy going crazy, barking madly in the front seat of the truck.

She hurried toward Jason but just as she reached him, just as she turned to point out the window, another truck pulled into the lot with another two men, the same thought patterns issuing from inside them.

“Jason!” she hissed under her breath, and grabbed his arm.

He followed her gaze out the window, taking in the situation, then threw the check and a twenty on the counter. “Keep the change, Marge.”

He turned her away from the front door, from the door closest to the truck, and with a hand on her back quickly led her toward the rear of the diner, toward the open-air walkway that led back to the motel. Away from the parking lot. Away from the truck.

“What are we going to do?”

“Make a run for it.” He grabbed her hand, hurrying her forward toward the outside door. They reached it just as all four men walked into the diner.

“Now!” Jason said, and they bolted outside, running toward the truck. And they almost made it, would have made it, if one of the men in the diner hadn’t chosen that moment to glance back out the window.

The next thing she knew, he was bursting out the diner’s door, running toward them. They kicked into high gear, running faster than Shay ever thought she could and still the man reached the truck before they did.

“What is he, a track star?” she cried as Jason sprang into action, running at the man, bracing his hands on the hood of the truck and swinging both legs around and planting them square in the man’s middle.

The man buckled over with a loud whoosh.

“Get in the truck,” Jason yelled.

Shay ran past him and jerked on the door. It was locked.

“Dammit!” She fumbled in her jacket for the keys. Found them and pulled them out. She quickly hit the unlock button and pulled open the door then tried to climb up into the cab, but Buddy was moving back and forth across the front seats, barking ferociously.

“Move over, Buddy!” She pushed him back then slammed the door shut as he tried to plow across her lap. The other three men, seeing what was happening, were running toward them.

“Hurry Jason!”

Jason punched his assailant once more, sending the man soaring, then turned, rushing toward her, but before he could reach the driver’s door, another man, a giant red-haired beast, grabbed him by the arm, swung him around and punched him straight in the face.

Jason hit the ground. Hard. The giant turned toward her, his hard green eyes narrowing as he spotted her in the truck. Quickly, she hit the lock button, locking all the doors.

He pulled on the handle anyway, jerking it up and down.

Another man appeared at the passenger’s door, rattling it as he, too, tried to get in. Buddy was going nuts, barking and jumping at the window. And then the third and fourth men appeared.

She was surrounded.

“Jason!” she screamed, but she couldn’t see him. Where was he?

Buddy sprayed spittle all over the driver’s-side window, and jumping against it so hard, she was certain he was going to break the glass. What was she going to do? She couldn’t just sit there. Surely Marge would see what was happening and call the police?

Wouldn’t she?

“Jason!” Shay had to get out of there. She stood in her seat, trying to see beyond the front of the hood, but the men were surrounding the truck now, pushing against the doors and windows, rocking the vehicle back and forth. They were going to tip her over!

Shay blared on the horn, hoping someone would come running. Would help. “Jason!” she screamed again. Then she remembered the keys. She still had them. She pushed Buddy out of the way, stuck the keys in the ignition and turned them. The truck roared to life. She popped it into Reverse, quickly glanced behind her and then pushed down on the accelerator. The truck flew backward, tires squealing, smoke rising.

And still the men kept coming.

She saw Jason lying on the ground, his head torqued at an odd angle across the cement parking spot, blood dripping down his face. “Please let him be okay,” she whispered. He had to be okay. Marge and a few truckers ran out the front of the diner. They would help him. They had to.

The men ran after her. Pushing her foot against the gas pedal, she floored it, pulling out of the motel parking lot and careening back onto the highway. She looked behind her to see if the men would follow her or if they’d turn back to Jason.

And if they did? Would the others help him? Could they? Before she could give it much thought, she saw them running toward their vehicles. They weren’t after Jason; they were after her.

She drove down the highway faster than she ever had before then quickly pulled off at the next exit and skirted behind a gas station facing the highway where she waited for the two trucks to pass her. She didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes the two trucks sped by, barreling down the highway.

Immediately, she gunned it, turning around and driving back to the diner, hoping the men wouldn’t figure out what she’d done for at least another ten minutes. By then, she would have Jason and they would be gone.

If he was okay.

She pulled back into the parking lot, tires squealing, the truck pitching dangerously. But she didn’t care. Quickly, she scanned the parking lot, but she didn’t see Jason anywhere. Panic crawled up her throat.