Isminimal harmstill on the table? I understand the need for their involvement—and the urgency, but they’re no doubt preparing for Wakefield’s resistance with a giant show of force. From what Luke has shared, I don’t think Wakefield will allow his flock to scatter. If anything, he’ll keep them closer. Meaning no one is going to be safe.
If things escalate, the war I’d warned CJ about will become a reality. And everyone in the crossfireis at risk.
After tossing my soaked slicker behind the seat and quickly drying Bruneau with a spare towel so he doesn’t soak the entire cab, I turn the engine and crank the heat.
I’m just pulling a U-turn when my phone chirps.
“Yeah,” I answer while accelerating down the gravel road.
“Rowdy?”
My spinning thoughts grind to a halt. It’s Keo.
“What’s up?” It comes out sharp, but it can’t be helped.
“Umm.” The warmth fades from her tone. “We, uh. Are you okay?”
I take the first bend way too fast and with all the rain, my tires lose traction for a terrifying second. “Did you need something?”
“We were supposed to have dinner tonight.”
My hollow belly gives a hard, cold pang. Fuck! “About that, I?—”
“You sound busy. Let’s, uh, talk later?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.I got so good at saying those words to Eliza.Sorry I missed dinner, sorry I woke you up, sorry we’re broke, sorry I let you down.I tried so hard to make it up to her, but it was never enough.
“Be safe.” The softness of her tone only adds to the shame and guilt gnawing at my insides.
I huff an angry breath at the rain-streaked windshield. God I was stupid to think I could avoid a repeat of the past. This right here is proof that I’ll never be free of it. It’s no use wanting someone in my life, something for myself, because it gets ripped from my grasp.
Fuck, it hurts.
But better to stop trying now, before I hurt Keo too. She deserves someone reliable. Someone who puts her first.
Another call clicks on my line. “I have to go.” I don’t wait for her reply and click to the incoming call. “Whittaker.” My tone is rough and impatient, but how am I supposed to stay composed when my world is imploding?
There’s a buzzing silence on the other end.
“Hello?” I check the screen, but it’s just a string of numbers, no ID. That’s not unusual given this doubles as my work line after hours. “This is the Idaho Fish and Wildlife Hotline. Is there an emergency?”
Whoever’s on the other end of the line is whispering something, but with the road hum and the rain, it’s impossible to hear it.
A flash of lighting illuminates the forested road ahead.
I press the phone to my ear. “Can you repeat that?”
“I don’t want to stay here.” It’s still a whisper, but it’s for sure a girl’s voice.
I grip the wheel, my heart pounding into my throat. What child has this number? Why is she whispering?
“You took my spirit sisters.”
Oh shit. “McKenzie and Gweneth?”
Her rushed exhale buzzes in my ears, like she’s holding the receiver close to her mouth. Or maybe she’s crying.
Could she have found my number under Tolbert Browning’s sink? My mind floods with questions—has she seen Linnea? Does she know where they’re keeping her? But the very real danger of a tactical team storming in has me in a chokehold. “I need you to hide somewhere safe until we can come for you, okay?”