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But now, it’s too late to truly keep her safe.
All I can do is try to stop the fallout.
I reach the house, throw open the door, and scramble to find my keys before hauling ass out to the truck parked around the side of the porch.
Gray follows me closely, and as soon as I open the driver’s side door, he jumps into the cab, just as he has a hundred times over the years to accompany me on the drive down the mountain to pick up supplies from the base.
I point to the ground. “No, you can’t come with me this time.”
A wolf in the city would draw too much attention, more than I’m already potentially going to by being there myself.
He offers a soft whine but obeys and leaps from inside the cab and out into the mud, dipping his head as he backs away.
“You watch the place while I’m gone.”
I climb in, tug the door closed, and start the engine, throwing it into drive before I even click my seatbelt into place.
The long, zigzagging road to the base of the mountain typically takes an hour when it isn’t raining, giving me time to think, which is the last thing I want.
Memories of the last time I made this trek and actually passed beyond the border of our property and out into the real world assault me violently.
A different frantic drive.
Another race against time.
One I lost.
I curse and try to push them back, but they force their way to the forefront of my mind.
The loud voices.
The gunfire.
The harsh sting of betrayal.
All of it more painful each time it comes.
I won’t let her get sucked into this. I can’t let her get hurt. Not if I can help it, not if there’s any way to stop it.
I am coming for you, Beauty.
I just hope it’s not too late by the time I get there.
Chapter Sixteen
WESTON
Callista’s car sits in the driveway of her father’s house, just as it did outside mine for three weeks.
I never thought I’d long to see it so much after looking at it every day, but just like the woman who drove it up my mountain, the car itself has somehow grown on me, and as soon as I see it, a little bit of the tension I’ve been carrying the whole drive here eases.
Though, that likely has less to do with the car itself and more to do with the fact that it being here means it’s more likely that she’s safe inside than caught up in some sinister plan I can’t stop from unfolding.
Please, God, let her be okay…
I’ve never really believed in God, let alone ever prayed to that higher power whose hand can supposedly intervene on our behalf, but if there were a time to start praying, it feels like now.
I park across the street, my hands tight on the steering wheel, and I have to force myself to uncurl them from the death grip I’ve had the entire drive. The ache throbbing through my finger joints helps me focus on something other than my panic.
