Chapter Thirteen

Callie woke in the back seat of an unfamiliar truck. It smelled like sweat and dirt. A rental, she thought. The floors were neat and clean save for a single duffle bag tucked under the front seat. The bench seat she’d been propped on was narrow. She twisted her wrists, finding them free. Nothing bound her, not even a seat belt.

The retreat had been hasty. Her father was the only other person in the truck with her, gripping the steering wheel in the seat in front of her. Sure, a shifter could probably survive an accident, but that didn’t mean she wanted to deal with the healing. Slowly, while she kept putting the pieces together, she slid the belt over her chest.

Her father had arrived amazingly fast. He must have booked the first flight. That, or he had his own plane waiting.

“You could have let me live my own life,” Callie grumbled. She wiped away the last of the sleep from her eyes, arms refusing to agree with her. The drug made her body ache in ways she’d never known before.

That was another thing she didn’t know they had. There was a lab at the Den, one that was working to make things that shifters could take. The progress was slow, at least that was what her father had told everyone. Apparently, it was slow because he had them working on other things behind closed doors.

“This isn’t going to make me listen to a word you have to say.” Callie never felt like this in her life. The sides of her face burned, and her hands curled against her thighs. She wanted to tear the tires from the truck, to thunder through the mountains back to her mate.

Her father said nothing. She was afraid of what he had left up his sleeve. She twisted, looking for Emmy. It was a small relief when she realized the female shifter wasn’t among them. Her father hadn’t wanted Emmy. He wanted his daughter.

“I’m so sorry I sent you to speak with them. Those shifters brainwashed you. They made you forget everything that was great about the Den.” Her father’s voice was filled with what sounded like genuine remorse.

Bile burned Callie’s throat. He either believed his words or was a great actor. Callie didn’t know which was worse.

She remembered Morgan, studded with tiny darts and still reaching for her. She closed her eyes and wished she was back in his arms. It was amazing how the distance between them felt like pain. There was a bond between them that had always been slack. The moment they’d been thrust together, it had been pulled taut. Now, it hurt like someone was pulling her hair.

Callie settled for knowing that she’d been injected with the same drug. Her body hurt, but she wasn’t dead. The others would be waking soon, too. Morgan had borne the brunt of the attack. He’d been filled with darts in an effort to keep him down. She could only hope the others knew how to help Morgan.

He wasn’t dead, she told herself. The bond between them would be a rope in the wind if Morgan was gone. She clutched it and tried to whisper to him, but she knew nothing about mate bonds.

“You lied to me about Morgan because you didn’t want me to leave home.”

Home. It was a foreign word in her mouth. In the past few days, it had been replaced by Morgan. The Den had never been her home. It had been a stasis she’d lived in, a bubble that had warped her mind.

Callie looked up, considering putting her foot through the window and leaping to her freedom. Her father would have another dart readied for her in no time. He wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. What good would that do at this point?

When she found the rearview mirror, the reflection of her father was strained. His brows knit together, and his lips were tight. Her mind fumbled, trying to put together the pieces. For all the brainwashing her father had done himself, she was still clever and quick. He’d made sure his daughter was smart.

Perhaps there had been a day when he’d wanted her to take over for him. That day had been lost. Now, Callie worried that she was only returning home to keep up appearances. Maybe, he’d even push her to settle down with another shifter and produce an heir. One that he could start fresh with.

She wasn’t going to let that happen.

Nine years without her mate had already been too long.

“Where’s Aimee?”

The otter shifter was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t say she was surprised that her father had left Aimee behind, but Callie couldn’t remember seeing her at all. There was a moment, heart clenching, that she worried Aimee had given them up.

It made sense. Aimee had known where they were. She could have called Richard and told him everything he wanted to know. But, for what? Aimee stood to gain nothing from such an exchange. The Den had never given her friend anything.

“Your friend disappeared the moment we arrived. Is that really the kind of people you want having your back?”

Her heart stuttered. She dug her nails into the back of the seat before her. Both Aimee and Emmy had been left standing, she realized. The two women would help the others.

The only question she had was if they’d help her. Morgan and Aimee would try to help her. Callie didn’t know if she trusted the others to come to her rescue. That meant her life was in her own hands. It was up to Callie to get back to her friend, to her mate.

Claiming Morgan cleared her mind. It helped her take a deep breath and center herself. He was her one and only. She would taste his lips again, no matter what.

“It was my fault for thinking you were ready for this kind of work.” Her father shook his head. “I should have pushed you to settle down earlier. I thought that if I gave you enough time on your own, that you would forget about him. You were spoiled from the beginning. Weren’t you?”

“Spoiled?” She knew he wasn’t talking about the things he’d given her. Richard Stone was not a giving man. Callie had to work for everything in her life. He meant spoiled in another way.

That her thoughts were wrong.

“I think you have things wrong and you don’t want to admit it because it would make you lose face. Can’t look weak in front of your cult-Pack, can you?”

Again, she looked to the window. Could she jump out of it in time? Could she outrun her father and whoever he’d brought along? Probably not. Callie would have to wait until they were distracted. There would be another opportunity. She held onto that hope.