Chapter Three

If she could spend the rest of her life in this bathroom, she would.

Katrina pushed around a little container of floss, lost in thought. She had to escape. Had to figure out a way to run away and find transportation back home.

Home.

She frowned. She didn’t have a home anymore.

The towel was damp from the steaming-hot shower she’d just taken. God, how long had it been since she took a hot shower? The showers at the prison only sprayed cold water.

The Fastlanders had put toiletry kits in each room. King’s had a toothbrush and a razor and some masculine-scented shaving cream, among a bunch of other things. She’d used the toothbrush, and shaved in the shower. She smelled like men’s shaving cream, and the men’s body wash that had been in his things, but she didn’t care. Katrina wasn’t here to impress anyone.

She took the towel, wiped an arc across the fogged mirror, and studied her reflection. Her damp hair hung down in loose curls, and her eyes were soft brown. Those she recognized. The traitor scar Rook had carved into her face, she would never get used to.

She bit the side of her lip and turned away from her reflection.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and it surprised her. It had been a couple hours since she’d left the meeting. She’d begun to think King wasn’t going to come back to the room, but that was just hope talking.

She debated not opening the door. He could sleep outside for all she cared.

She inhaled deep and shook her head. Why had she gone back for him? Why had she released him in the first place? And why had she said all of that outside in front of everyone? She had practically begged for a place for him with some new Crew, but why did she care?

Another knock sounded, softer this time. She pushed off the counter and scrunched her wet hair with the towel as she went. When she reached the door, she pulled it open and stepped aside.

King was there, leaned against the frame, glowing gold eyes soft.

He was a massive man.

“You can have the bed. I’ll sleep in the bathroom,” she told him as she retreated inside.

King came in and tossed her a paper bag that smelled deliciously of hamburger. “I got you dinner. Figured you could use some food.”

He made his way to the bed and gave her his back, pulled his flannel off, and folded it across the back of the single chair at the small table near the bed. He removed his beanie and set it on top of the dresser.

Curious, Katrina opened the paper bag. Sure enough, there were hamburgers inside. And French fries. And also the small box of…She read the label as she pulled it out slowly. It was a pregnancy test.

She could feel him watching her—gauging her reaction, perhaps.

“I don’t think I am,” she murmured.

“I want to be sure,” he rumbled. His voice still wasn’t back to human.

She held the box up. “Where did you get the money for this?”

“Oh.” He pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it to her. It was a sealed envelope, and when she opened the flap, inside, there was money. A quick count said there was a hundred dollars in twenties. Next, he handed her a small phone that looked really simple and old school. “They have them programmed to only connect with the people here. We’re in Deadhorse. The prison isn’t even that far away.”

Confused, she asked, “Why wouldn’t they take us farther away? There will be media and cops all over that place. They’ll come here to look for us. I don’t know much about Alaska, but I’m pretty sure there aren’t that many places to rent a room.”

The bed creaked loudly as King sank down onto the edge. He rested his elbows on his massive thighs and shook his head. “I don’t think they’re worried about the guards or media. Wreck told us Damon targeted the prison to drag human attention to what was going on inside.” He cracked his knuckles. “We don’t have to talk about it, ever, but you should know, Damon caught wind of the experiments they were doing, and he’s trying to put a stop to it. He needed the humans to report on it, and question the security of the prison, and to dig deeper on what is happening there. Wreck said if we turn on the TV, it’ll probably show Damon being interviewed on the news.”

“Pretty sure he won’t be telling the human public he broke thirteen of us out of there.”

King huffed a laugh and shook his head. “I’m guessing he’ll leave that part out.”

“Thanks for the food. It’s not what I would spent my money on though.”

“I didn’t spend your money. I spent mine.” Truth. “Wreck gave us all a phone and cash. Said we could go to the general store. I was going to get you snacks, but I don’t know anything about you. Figured you could go later if you need some space from the room.” He cleared his throat. “If you need space from me.”

She was quiet so long, unsure of how to respond to his understanding, it became awkward. She lifted the box. “I’ll get it over with then.”

He gripped his wrist with his other hand. She’d seen him doing that out at the meeting. “Why do you do that?” she asked him.

“To check where my pulse is. My gorilla reacts to adrenaline. Sometimes I can tell if he’s coming by my heart rate. Sometimes not. It’s nice to think about having some kind of warning, or control, though.”

“You don’t have control of your animal?” she asked.

“Sometimes yes, sometimes no.” Truth.

“Great.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Chh.” She didn’t know why what he’d said brought on the flash of anger. She hugged the box to her chest and made her way into the bathroom without looking at him. She’d never done one of these tests before, and she was nervous, so she had to read the instructions three times before she understood.

She set the pregnancy test on the counter, upside down because she couldn’t stand looking at the little blinking hourglass that told her the result wasn’t ready yet.

“Can I come in there?” King asked.

“No.”

He muttered a curse, and she didn’t understand. Why on earth would he want to be in here?

“Look,” she said, opening the door. “If it’s positive, you’re off the hook. I don’t need you. Besides, I have a Pride, and I have a mate. I’m a Queen. I’ll be taken care of.”

“Most of what you said was a lie or a half-truth. You want to try that again?” he asked from where he was still sitting on the bed.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else here.”

He inhaled deep. “I had a family group.”

Whatever she’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that. “Where are they?”

“Scattered. It was breaking up before I went to prison. It’s decimated now. I couldn’t ever get it working smoothly.”

“You had a mate?”

He just stared at her and didn’t answer. “Right. None of my business.”

She crossed her arms over her chest defensively and stared into the bathroom at the pregnancy test. “It’s probably ready now. It’s supposed to just take a few minutes.”

“Katrina?” he said, his tone rich as he said her name for the first time she’d ever heard. “It’s okay either way.”

She didn’t know why, but his kindness meant something to her in this intimidating moment.

It would be okay?

For her, it felt like nothing would be okay ever again. He wasn’t the only one with a decimated past.

She made her way to the counter, looked at herself in the mirror, took a deep breath, and flipped the test over.

She just stared at it, not knowing how she was supposed to feel in this moment.

“What’s it say?” King asked, drawing up behind her. God, he was enormous. He took up the entire bathroom.

She showed it to him, still utterly confused. There was this tiny voice inside of her that said she should be disappointed, but that was insane.

“It’s negative,” he rumbled.

“Yeah.” She didn’t know what else to say.

King froze, and she could feel him watching her, but her eyes were glued to the pattern of the laminate floor of the bathroom.

Slowly, King set the test onto the counter with a soft click , then he slid his hand behind her head, pulled her in, and hugged her against his chest.

She could feel his heartbeat drumming against her scarred cheek, and she closed her eyes. She should be pushing him away right now. Her arms should be shoving him into the bathroom wall, but instead, they slid around his waist and hugged him back.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered. “I don’t want others to talk about it either.”

“I won’t let them.” There was an oath in his voice.

She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and gripped the back of his shirt. And then she fell apart. She could with him, because he’d seen her vulnerable before. She hated that he already knew her in that way. No one had ever seen her cry, but King had seen it at the prison a few weeks ago, he’d seen it outside when she’d seen Silver, and he was seeing it now.

Tomorrow she would overthink this and be full of regret, but here, in the quiet of the bathroom, flooded with a mass of confusing feelings—relief and disappointment—she was okay to let out all the emotions she’d kept inside of her all those months in that awful prison.

He let her cry. He didn’t get tense, or find a way to back out of the bathroom. He just held her, gripping the back of her hair gently and swaying from side to side.

At last, when she was cried out and in control of herself once more, she wiped her eyes, looked up at him, and sniffed. “Why were you in prison?”

“The humans called it murder. You?”

“Also murder. Kind of. Wreck’s stupid mate brought everyone back to life, so technically, I performed zero murders.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “It’s probably best for the world that test is negative.”

She laughed thickly, thankful that he could lighten the mood. “We don’t need to be making any more monsters.”

“Who did this?” he asked suddenly, and brushed his thumb down her cheek.

That was enough to break the spell. She gripped his wrist and pulled his hand away, disengaged from the hug, gave him her back, and washed her face in the sink.

That story was off-limits.

King didn’t push. He wasn’t even in the bathroom when she dried her face and looked in the mirror. Instead, he was sitting at the table, eating one of the hamburgers.

“You make that table look tiny,” she said, trying to break the ice.

King gestured to the bed, where he’d set the rest of the food onto the paper-bag plate. “Eat.”

“Don’t boss me around,” she snapped.

He chewed thoughtfully, then shoved the last bite into his mouth, stood, made his way to the bed, and grabbed one of the other hamburgers. “It’s a sin to leave food to get cold.”

“It’s a sin to steal a woman’s food.”

“You aren’t my woman, and this is a good lesson for you. I eat. A lot. If you leave food uneaten, I will eat it.”

She sat on the bed and pulled the bag of food closer to herself. “I’m eating the rest, geez.”

“I need more food for tonight. I should’ve loaded up. There’s a little store across the street at the gas station. You can go if you want, or if you tell me what you like, I can get it.”

“You’re going to spend all your money on food.”

“Woman, I have to eat. If I don’t, the animal is gnarly to deal with. If I run out of money for food, I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“I have been craving something since I went to prison,” she admitted around a bite of hamburger. It was delicious.

“What’s that?”

“Powdered donuts.”

“They have those. At least, they do if the dipshits from the prison break didn’t buy them all up.”

The clock on the nightstand said it was seven in the evening, but shops probably closed early in small-town Alaska.

“Eight o’clock,” he said around a bite. “I checked the hours.”

“Are you some kind of mind reader?” she asked.

King shrugged and took another bite.

She really looked at him, here in the dim light of the hotel room. He was turned with his back mostly to her, but she could see his profile so clearly while he chewed. He had dark, two-day scruff on his chiseled jaw. His hair had been cut short on the sides, and was just a couple inches long and mussed from his beanie on top. His thermal clung to his muscles. To a human it would look like he spent a lot of time in a gym, but she’d heard about silverbacks. As they matured, they grew and maintained heavy muscle to keep in fighting shape. Silverbacks fought a lot. She remembered the scars on his skin from a few weeks ago.

The fabric of his shirt hid a lot of his history.

“Who did you kill?” she asked curiously.

He looked at her over his shoulder, and for a second, she thought he would answer. Instead, he told her, “If you want to go to the store, you need to get ready. I’m leaving.”

“I don’t need you to escort me.”

“Suit yourself.” He stood and crumpled up the paper, then tossed it in the trash. Without another word, he left the room and let the door swing closed behind him.

The abrupt departure took her aback. They’d been talking. Sure, it wasn’t as intimate as when she’d been boo-hooing her eyeballs out on his shirt in the bathroom, but they’d been kind of having a conversation, and then he’d just…left.

Perhaps because she asked him about who he killed. His avoidance of an answer only made her more curious.

It was true, she didn’t need an escort, but it was kind of nice tagging along with someone who knew the layout of the store already. In a rush, she got up and pulled her boots and her jacket on, then tucked her damp hair under her beanie so it wouldn’t freeze. She grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, then pocketed the phone, the envelope of money, and the key card to the room. Katrina bolted out the door after him. In the hallway, she came to an abrupt stop as she realized something huge. She was free.

There were no guards keeping her in line, no strict schedule to follow.

King was waiting at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his muscular chest. “They said we could come and go to the store, but that there are people waiting on the border of the town in case we make a run for it out of Deadhorse.”

“But we can just…go to the store? With no rules? No chaperones?”

“I mean, you probably can’t rob someone or get in a bar fight. There’s probably some rules. Pretty sure the phones have trackers in them, too.”

“That’s fair. We’re all criminals.” Katrina squared up to him and handed him his jacket. “You forgot this in the room.”

He took it and nodded his thanks, then opened the door for her.

It was nice, him being a gentleman after she’d witnessed the other side of him.

She did like that he hadn’t made a move on her when she was vulnerable and crying, and she also liked that he seemed to understand the needs of women. “Do you have sisters?”

“Three of them,” he answered easily.

Okay, so he wasn’t opposed to answering questions. He was just good at shutting down on her if she asked the wrong ones. She got that. She didn’t want to talk about Rook, or the embarrassing reason she had a scar down her face.

“I have a brother,” she told him. “And a step-sister, but she’s always lived far away and I barely talked to her. I only met her a couple times.”

“Are you and your brother close?” he asked, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and shrugging his shoulders up to his ears as they walked into the wind toward a lit-up gas station and convenience store across the icy road.

“We were when we were younger.”

“What changed?”

“Me,” she said honestly. “I wanted to be a Queen, and for a while I didn’t care who I stepped on to get to the top.” She blew out a long, frozen breath.

“Feel good, admitting that out loud?”

“Actually, yeah. I think that’s the first time I’ve put words to that. Silver would also be feeling about me the same way my brother does. I wasn’t always kind on my rise to the top.”

“And now look at you,” he said, a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, look at me. Freezing my ass off, heading to a convenience store with borrowed money after a dragon and a phoenix broke me out of prison, and likely I’ll be going right back there. I’m living the dream.”

“You don’t know you’ll go back to Cold Foot. They seem pretty interested in keeping you around.”

“How could you tell? Was it because Wreck ordered me to stay in the same room with a murdery stranger as a form of some weird punishment? No offense on the murdery-stranger part.”

“None taken.” He led her inside an entryway that was clearly built to block the snow and cold air from the front door, and up a trio of stairs.

“I can admit the bad stuff about me because you can’t judge me.” She smiled up at him as he opened the door for her. “Because you are a murderer.”

His smile was tight, but it was still a smile. Kind of. It counted.

“You don’t have to keep repeating that word.”

“Feels right.”

With a sense of satisfaction, she made her way to the candy aisle, and got overwhelmed with the options. There were so many colors. She hadn’t done this in a long time—went on a shopping spree. This moment felt surreal. For a while, she just took it all in.

“I would recommend the Skittles,” a familiar voice said.

Raynah peeked out from behind the endcap, and the unexpected run-in pulled a big grin from Katrina’s lips. “Hey you. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah, it’s wild huh? One minute we’re escaping prison, and the next, we have an allowance and a phone and free rein to do whatever we want.”

Katrina huffed a laugh, but pointed to a little black camera someone had placed in a foundational crack in the wall. “That looks new. There’re three more around the store. Look at the seam along the ceiling. We aren’t really free. We’re being watched, like animals in a zoo. We just moved from one prison to another. This one just has bait to help us let our guards down.”

Raynah scanned the ceiling. “How do you know all this?”

Katrina grabbed a package of Skittles and shrugged. “I hunted these motherfuckers. I studied them. The blue dragon always has a bigger picture, but he’ll aim us, and the human public, at what he wants us to see. I bet he’s kicked back in a room watching all the feeds from the cameras they have placed around town. Him and the rest of his mountains.”

“Yeah, but what about what Wreck said? We would be in Montana if we get accepted. That’s nowhere near Damon’s Mountains.” Her voice sounded so full of hope.

“And he also talked about Damon expanding his territory. Do you really think the dragons need more power?” She bumped Raynah on the shoulder and made her way toward the next aisle to see if the powdered donuts were there. “Nothing is what it seems with God’s favorites.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh come on. The Crews of Damon’s Mountains have it so easy. Safety in numbers. They have all the big weapons. All the big shifters seek sanctuary with them. All the rare ones. All of the other Crews and Prides that live on the outskirts of the dragon’s protection are the real ones.”

Raynah had followed her to the aisle, but she’d gone quiet, and the smile had fallen from her lips. “If I had a choice? I would fall under the dragon’s protection. You had a Pride, and maybe there was safety in that. Crocs are solo, for the most part. It’s lonely. You and Silver have the traitor marks. You got that from your Pride, right? I don’t see any of the other Fastlanders with traitor marks.”

“Careful,” she growled.

“We’re friends as far as I’m concerned, Kat. You want a friend who will agree with you and fuel those delusions you have left over from your Pride? It ain’t me. You can try Silver, but I bet it ain’t her either. I want to make the Crew.”

“You want to make a Crew with a psycho Alpha? Really?” she gritted out, anger boiling through her blood.

“You went to war with him. Wreck won. I want to be on the winning side for once. I want to be safe,” Raynah said softly. She slid her hand to her stomach. “I got more to protect than my pride.”

Katrina didn’t know why, but as she watched Raynah walk away, she felt betrayed. Her talking about her Pride losing that war cut her deep, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why she felt so emotional about it. Her time in shifter prison had given her more clarity. Time away from the manipulative tactics of the Pride had been good for her, but she still felt blind loyalty to them and to their cause. Ace, and then Silver, had been the target of the Holland Pride for so long, and that obsession had grown like wildfire through the Pride. She could admit she hadn’t seen the truth, and that she’d ignored the manipulation just so she could feel right with the people she loved. But still, any mention of them losing pissed her off. She’d been killed there in those mountains. She’d been dragged back to life in a horrible way, with some magical green firestorm, and she’d watched members of her Pride struggling to live through that awful night. And then she’d been scooped up on the escape by police, and been shipped to Cold Foot Prison, and then…then…everything else had happened. That night had caused the loss of her freedom, and part of her was pissed at Rook and the others who filled her head with this quest for honor that wasn’t honorable at all. Part of her was ashamed she’d fallen so deep into it. And part of her was furious that sometimes she still couldn’t see clearly. Like now. She was angry, but why? Raynah had told the truth. She could understand how Raynah didn’t have the same history of hatred with Damon’s Mountains, and this felt like freedom to her. Maybe it was just anger over feeling so stupid. She’d ruined her life following the leadership of others. Not just others—Rook. Her Rook.

She hated this awful feeling churning in her gut.

“You good?” King asked.

Startled, Katrina swung around and saw him a couple rows down. His eyes had lightened, and he wore a deep frown as he stared right into her soul.

“I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t, it’s none of your damn business. Worry about yourself,” she grumbled.

He arched his eyebrow, shook his head, and walked toward the back.

“Where are you going?” she called.

“Wherever I want. Worry about yourself ,” he repeated her words without turning around.

A growl rattled up her throat, and she clenched her hands so tightly, her nails dug into her skin. Why did she feel like she was doing everything wrong here? She didn’t owe anyone politeness, and especially not King. She was a lioness surrounded by shifters who couldn’t understand her.

She muttered a curse under her breath and stalked to the next aisle, but spied a refrigerator of beer and canned margaritas in different flavors. She backed up a few steps, slowly walked to it, and studied the options. The last time she’d had a drink was the week before the war.

“Getting drunk tonight?” King asked. “Gonna drown your sorrows?”

She shrugged. Here anger had already faded. “I don’t get drunk. At least the old me didn’t. I gotta figure out the new me. You can go back to the hotel without me. I am fine.”

He came to stand beside her. “I’ll stay. I got nowhere to be.” He crossed his arms and tipped his chin at the middle row. “Beer is my drink. I can have a few without fuckin’ up my gorilla. I barely feel beer. Well, at least, that’s how it was. I’ve been in Cold Foot for a while.”

“How long?”

“Three years. You?”

“Not that long. Feels like a decade though.”

“What’s your drink of choice?”

She chewed on her thumbnail thoughtfully. He wasn’t making her pay for popping off at him. She appreciated it, and would reward him with an answer. “I like the fruity stuff, but I don’t drink enough to mess with my lioness either. I get why you don’t drink much. My cat is a little…”

“Spicy?”

She snorted. “How did you guess?”

He gave her a smirk and looked back to the fridge. “Look, a couple of the guys were in here earlier, and they said there is a bar behind this place. Just a short walk. You want a drink? You want to feel normal? Or as normal as you can with cameras all around you? Go to a bar, get a drink, get some food, take a breath, and just…breathe.”

“You saw the cameras too?” she asked.

“Yeah, about one second after I came in here.”

“The Fastlanders are pretty terrible at hiding them.”

“I don’t think they’re trying to hide them. We’re all grown. We know the drill. They’re going to make a judgement on who gets along the best, and who can have a mature conversation without flying off the handle and bleeding each other.”

“Remember that one time you fought the phoenix?” she asked, trying to hide a smile.

“Shut up. That wasn’t my fault.”

“It was so stupid,” she said with a laugh. “Why did you do that?”

“I saw them shoot you. How was I supposed to know it was a tranquilizer? I thought they were trying to kill you. I’m going to pay out. I’ll see you back at the hotel.” He waved to a little camera positioned on top of the beer fridge and sauntered off.

She watched him go. Who the hell was this man, who could make her feel such strong emotions like this? Hate and interest, disdain and care. He had fought the phoenix…for her? To protect her?

Why?

She heaved a sigh and frowned as she watched him talking easily to the cashier. He was asking questions. Asking how far away the closest bank was, and if there was Wi-Fi service anywhere in town.

She wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but King was hot. Not just the boy-next-door kind of hot either, but that dangerous, sexy, quiet but well-spoken, emotionally-intelligent kind of hot. The muscles helped. The dark scruff on his face helped. The sleeve of tattoos that lay hidden under his clothes helped. Hell, even his scars were sexy. He’d seen and done shit. He wasn’t afraid of a fight. Clearly. He’d fought freaking Wreck Itall, and she remembered the fear in the Fastlanders’ voices when he’d been coming for them.

King was an asshole, and she would never change her mind about that, but he was an interesting, and very physically appealing, asshole.

She turned and snatched the last bag of powdered donuts off the endcap, then strode for the checkout counter. She could just walk to the counter freely, without someone barking to slow down, or speed up, or telling her where to be and when. She could grab a bottled water on the way. She could grab a beef stick at the register. Excitement suddenly zinged through her, and gah, this was overwhelming. She was angry one moment, and elated the next.

Today had been an absolute roller coaster.

She spied the cashier placing a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers in King’s bag.

“Planning on a hangover tomorrow?” she joked, surprising herself. She was talking so easily to him.

“Nah. My head’s been killing me all day.”

“Oh man. Wait, you died—errr, were brought back? Green fire?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, handing the cashier the right amount of cash.

“You need water. My headache lasted three days. I thought I was dying all over again.”

“He messed you up too?” King asked.

“So bad.” She turned and grabbed a gallon of water that was sitting on a display behind them. “This is the only thing that will help you. Advil won’t even make a dent. You gotta work that poison out of you.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks,” he murmured, reaching into his back pocket for more cash.

“I’ve got it,” she said, setting the water up with her donuts and candy. “I owe you. You know, for buying me the pregnancy test.” She winked at the cashier, who looked at them wide-eyed. “He thought he knocked me up for a minute, but don’t worry. No fetuses here.”

“Oh my God,” King gritted out. “Don’t listen to her. She’s on…crack.”

A laugh escaped her, and it shocked her. How long had it been since she’d heard her own laugh? Katrina slapped a twenty on the counter with a grin at how uncomfortable King was right now.

“I’m going to go jump off a cliff now,” he said with an empty smile. He tucked his paper bag of food against his ribs, grabbed the gallon jug of water, and made his way to the door.

“Bye, lover,” she called after him.

His middle finger went right up into the air without him even turning around, and she laughed again. He was fun to pester.

He used his middle-finger flinging hand to open the door for a couple of guys that were coming in. She recognized them from the meeting earlier.

“Heeey, it’s the breeder,” one of them said, pointing to her.

The smile fell from her face instantly. Katrina was fine joking about it with King, because he knew. Ooooh, he knew. But these dickbag strangers? Nope.

She took her change from the cashier, pocketed it, grabbed her small bag, and then strode right between them, slamming her shoulder against the one who had called her that.

“Bitch—”

Katrina lurched forward with a snarl. “I prefer bitch to breeder. Call me that again and I’ll slit you from throat to dick, and you can watch your guts fall out onto the floor while you die.” She curved her mouth into an empty smile. “You hear the truth in my voice, don’t you?” She leaned forward and whispered, “That’s because I fuckin’ mean it.” The acrid scent of fear wafted from the one she was talking to. Satisfied, she backed off, but he wasn’t looking down at her. Both of the shifters were looking at something at the door.

King stood there, eyes a light, glowing gold, staring at the men. The angles of his face were sharper, and a great heaviness emanated from him, clogging up her lungs and making it hard to draw a breath.

She stormed past him. “I don’t need you to save me,” she gritted out.

Katrina jogged down the stairs and past the entryway that shielded the entrance from the biting cold. The wind blasted against her face, and she pulled her flannel jacket tighter around herself.

King was following her, and that made her anger reappear.

“What?” she asked, stomping her boot onto the thin layer of snow.

He lifted the jug of water and pointed to the hotel. His tone was low, gravelly, and strained as he uttered, “I’m just going in the same direction. Not following you.”

“I really don’t need you saving me. I don’t like that.”

He huffed a frozen breath, and whooo, his eyes were light and reflecting oddly in the illumination from the convenience store floodlights.

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing! Not a thing.”

He clenched his teeth, shook his head, and walked away, but stopped after a few yards. “You know what?” he barked. “It sucked for me too.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

“But you’ll bring up the pregnancy test in there in front of that guy to dig at me. You are in your head about what happened, and I get it. God, I get it. My head is obsessed with thinking about it!” His voice echoed through the empty street. “I hate myself, and I hate you, and do you know why? Because there’s this sick fucking part of me that liked it. And I know how messed up that is, but that exists in here!” he said, gesturing to his head. “So when I see you popping at someone? Let me explain what it’s like for a silverback.” He closed some of the distance between them. “Women are to be taken care of, and elevated, and protected. They are supposed to know their value, and if they don’t? If they have an insecurity? It’s on the silverback. He isn’t doing his job well enough. You said you’re a Queen? Every woman in the family group I grew up in was a queen. I couldn’t hurt you if I fuckin’ tried, and then they made us do what they made us do, and it did something awful to me! And the worst part? The very worst part,” he said, lowering his voice. “Is that I know I can’t take it back. I know it’s sitting in your head, and I would give anything to go back and do it all differently. For you. You were hurt. I could feel it. I could smell it. I could sense it. You. Hurt. And whether I wanted to be a part of that or not, it’s my fault. You’re a badass lioness, Kat. That’s what your friends call you, right? Kat? We fucked, so we’re friends. You’re a badass. Anyone with eyes can see it, and anyone with any sense in their body can feel how big your animal is, and girl, that is so fucking sexy to a man like me. I like a strong woman. But if you think I can walk away when another man is calling you names like that? It ain’t gonna happen. I know you don’t need anyone to save you, but if I’m around, they will respect you.” King leaned in close. “They’ll respect you, or they’ll wake up tomorrow with no fuckin’ teeth.” He lifted the jug again and pointed. “Bar’s that way.” He stepped forward and snatched the bag of treats out of her hand. “I’ll put these in the room.”

He strode off, leaving her to stare after him, her boots frozen to the ground like she was an ice sculpture.

Oh, men had talked to her at that volume and with that intensity before, but it was to put her in her place, and call her names, and get her back in line. Rook had done it a thousand times.

But with King? How could she argue with anything he’d just said? Those were the admissions of a bad monster who was a good man. She could understand him a little better just with that one pop. It felt like he’d socked her right in her mind.

Okay.

Okay.

She blinked hard and searched for her anger, but it was gone. A man who praised her for being a badass, but was telling her she would still have a quiet enforcer behind her, forcing respect if anyone stepped out of line on her? She wanted to be stubborn and snap at him to leave her alone forever, but he was leaving her alone. He wasn’t being controlling. He was telling her to go to a bar by herself and…how had he put it? Just breathe?

Rook hadn’t let her go anywhere alone.

Completely mind-fucked, she turned toward a lit-up sign at the edge of the tree line that read Moody Lantern. Shuffling her feet to draw a line in the snow behind her, she made her way slowly toward the little bar, thoughts loud and swirling around in her head.

He’d liked it? She understood. She’d been wrestling with the same confusion. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, much less out loud, but he had found the courage to admit to a horror.

She glanced back, but he had already disappeared into the hotel.

If they both enjoyed it, was it wrong at all?

King was very different than she’d thought.

There were a few shifters hanging outside, but they were polite enough—just nodded as she offered a two-fingered wave. Inside, she took a few moments to stomp the snow off her boots on the mat and look around. It was warm in here, and there was a fire going in the huge hearth. The bar was small, made up of just two rooms—one with the bar top, and one with a couple pool tables. The tables were full, and the chatter from the pool players was laid-back and jovial. Cigarettes hung from mouths, the clack of the cue ball hitting another was loud, and the music drifting to her ears was thanks to a grizzled, bearded man sitting on a stool on a small stage in the corner, picking at a banjo.

Just breathe.

A smile stretched her lips, and she exhaled a breath.

The bartender was a tall woman with a curt nod as a greeting as Katrina took a seat in front of her.

“I know what you are,” the bartender said. “There’s rules here. No fighting. I’m already up to my eyeballs in cleanup tonight.” She gestured to a broken table and chairs near the window.

“Geez. It’s a little early for that.”

“You shifters put us through it,” she said in a monotone as she poured a beer from the tap into a frosty glass.

“I’m Kat,” she said. “I won’t be breaking anything. Today has already been weird enough.”

The woman snorted. “Yeah, prison breaks can be a little draining, I can imagine.”

Surprised, Kat asked, “How do you know about that?”

“The town signed off on this little experiment.”

“Why would you do that?” she asked, but the bartender made her way down the bar with the beer and set it in front of a tall man with strange eyes that she recognized from the meeting. He lifted his beer to Kat, then drank and went back to ignoring her. Perfect.

“Because we voted at a town meeting, and it seemed like the right thing to do. I’ve heard rumors about experiments on your kind in Cold Foot Prison for years. Someone needed to break that place wide open. The bad ones are still locked up. That was the deal. Damon wasn’t allowed to let monsters in our town. Plus he paid us enough to keep the town going for a few years. Money talks. I got a raise. Of course I voted to let you freaks spend a few days in town.”

She smiled and nodded. “Fair enough.”

“What are you drinking?”

Kat glanced over her shoulder at the busted table and chairs, lying there in splinters. “Definitely not shots. You know, you could save yourself some trouble by refusing them shots. We’ve been locked up. Some of us aren’t going to have any chill.”

She snorted. “I learned my lesson.” She canted her head. The woman was weather-worn, with deep wrinkles etched into her skin, and blue eyes that had come to life through the conversation. “You know, it’s nice to have a woman in here. Deadhorse is mostly men. It’s oil workers filling up that hotel most of the time.”

Kat held up her hands. “My cellmate painted my nails in prison. If you need a touch of feminine, I have arrived.”

The lady laughed and introduced herself at last. “I’m Ruth.”

“Good to meet you, Ruth.”

“Can I make you a girly drink? I never get the chance to practice.”

“Sure. No rum. I got sick on rum on my twenty-first birthday and still can’t stomach it.”

“Ha!” She went to work making a drink for her. “Mine is whiskey. Can’t even smell the stuff anymore without wanting to gag. Thirty-fifth birthday. Got in two fights, lost my truck, had to walk home, and met a bear in the woods. At least I think I did. Some of the men around here look like bears. I stabbed something. I think. And then I was sick for two days.”

Kat tossed her head back and cackled at the vision of it. “Hey, at least you have a good story. You have lived , Ruth. No one will be standing up at your funeral talking about how boring you were.”

A bright-white smile cracked Ruth’s face. “That’s the goal, isn’t it? To live?”

“Amen, it is.”

Ruth set a pink drink in a martini glass in front of her. It had a lemon peel, and sparkled in the light. “Is that glitter in there?”

“Edible glitter. If you’re lucky, you’ll be shitting glitter by morning.”

She laughed and nodded. “Nice.” She lifted her glass in a toast, and realized Ruth had made a girly drink for herself as well.

Ruth lifted her glass and tinked it softly against Katrina’s. “To the rare ones.”

“To the rare ones,” Kat murmured, and then took a sip.

“You’re still a little fuckin’ freak though,” Ruth said with a wink, and then bustled down the bar top to a customer who was just sitting down on the end.

She wasn’t wrong. Ruth would probably blow a gasket if Kat told her she had been killed and brought back to life by a phoenix shifter.

Damon had promised he wouldn’t allow monsters in this town. Ummm, Wreck was here.

Damon had lied.

She watched the banjo player while she sipped her drink down. Feeling a slight buzz, she ordered one more, leaned back in the bar chair, and pulled the phone out of her pocket. She poked around it for a bit, seeing what she could do with it. Could she call anyone from her old Pride? There were a few of her Pride that had stayed out of the war, and out of prison. She had a couple of their numbers memorized.

Kat’s fingertips hovered over the first number.

Did she even want to call them?

Her old life seemed very far away now.

She opened up the contacts and was surprised to find a list of names. Wreck was listed, along with Raynah, and a dozen guys’ names, one of which she recognized.

Kingston Chase.

That had to be King, right?

She leaned forward, resting her arms on the counter as she opened up a text. Ruth had set a new drink in front of her, and she was feeling relaxed and buzzed. She took another sip and then typed out, Is this your number? Katrina. Send.

She chewed on the side of her lip and typed, Kat , as a correction. Send. He could call her what her friends called her.

Katrina Holland. She read the text twice, confused.

Yeah. Send.

You are really a Holland Pride Queen.

Yeah, and look where that got me. Rook. Send.

Rook what?

What was she doing? She stared at the blank screen, then took another long sip, bolstering herself into the kind of courage he had shown her earlier. You asked what happened to my face. I betrayed my King. Rook is my King. He was my mate. Send.

Her hands were shaking, but she didn’t understand why. Perhaps it was the memory of the night he’d cut her. It had been her greatest shame at the time. It had been such a big deal to the Pride.

She set the phone down, wrung her hands between her knees, and watched the banjo player.

Not your King anymore. Not your mate anymore. Do you want me to kill him?

What? No! Send. I told you, I don’t need anyone to save me. I didn’t fight him. It was my fault.

Mmm. Explain how a man cutting a scar to the bone is justified in any way. Nothing you say can convince me that him mutilating you was your fault.

It’s a long story. Send.

I’ve got nothing to do. I’m watching the news. Watching the Damon interviews. The humans are gunning for a full search into the prison. A picture came through, and it was of King laying on the hotel bed with his arm resting behind his head, shirtless. His eyes were such a blazing-bright shade of gold.

Why is your gorilla worked up? Send.

Because I want to kill a stranger named Rook.

Huh. Don’t sent me shirtless pics anymore. You’re better than that.

A minute went by with no response, so she figured the conversation was over. She was learning him. He hung for a minute, then she popped at him and he left her alone.

She gave a private, smug smile, but it slipped from her lips as she stared at her dark phone screen. She didn’t really want him to leave her alone right now. It was nice talking like this, when she didn’t have to see his face and remember their time in the prison. Maybe that was just the buzz talking, though.

Her phone lit up, and she pulled it up quick. He’d sent another picture, and this time it was him in front of the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, six-pack flexed, shoulders and arms all puffed up and huge. Scars everywhere, and the forest scene tattoo that covered his entire right arm. His pants hung low on his hips, exposing the elastic waist of his underwear. His chin was tilted into the air, and he wore a smirk. The caption read, Don’t tell me what to do.

Kat chewed the corner of her thumbnail, and did a quick glance around before she looked at the picture again. This was the finest man she’d ever seen. From the breadth of his wide shoulders, to his trim waist, to the defined abs, and the light trail of hair that traveled from his belly button down into the elastic of his underwear. And that expression on his face that oozed utter confidence was so attractive. She’d always liked powerful, confident men, and she’d been there when this one went to war with the phoenix. He had confidence, and his animal did too.

How many mates do you have in your family group? Send.

Zero. Family group is dismantled. My fault. Don’t want to talk about it. Please ask anything else.

That was fair. That was a big ask, and while she was now even more curious about his story, it wasn’t right to push him. Not when he’d shown her kindness today.

What’s your favorite color? Send.

Used to be green, but now it’s blue.

Why did it change? Send.

It changed when I saw the sky today. It’s been awhile. I missed it. What’s yours?

Hopeful that it would steady out her drumming heart rate, Kat huffed a steadying breath and began to type. I always said my favorite color was the green in Rook’s eyes, when his lion wasn’t riled up. I liked him from early on. Over time, the green didn’t show up much. He was always angry. He was paired with my friend, and he was bringing me on too, and had two others lined up. He wanted a lot of mates. I was so blind to it, I listened to his lies. He only wanted to be with me. He wanted me to be his Queen. He wanted to give me the world. I had loved him before he took on my friend, and she didn’t want him. She hated him, and I was so hurt, but he was making me promises that he would set it right. Kat looked up to see her reflection in the mirror behind some liquor bottles behind the bar. Her scar was so stark when she didn’t cover it with makeup. She dropped her gaze to her phone and finished the text. Green isn’t my favorite color anymore either. I don’t know myself well enough to pick a favorite color yet. I know I should be embarrassed, being an adult woman and admitting that, but I don’t. I don’t know myself. Not anymore. She hesitated to send it, her thumb hovering right over the button. This was getting too deep. Much too deep.

She set her phone down, sipped down the remainder of her drink, and listened to the banjo player. Eventually, she turned at the sound of laughter, and watched the men playing pool. They were cutting up, throwing money on the table in a bet. Life went on.

Ruth started making her another drink, and she allowed it. She still felt good and buzzed, not dizzy.

Fuck it. She opened up the text and hit the send button, then shoved her phone into her pocket, threw cash on the counter with a tip for Ruth, and took her new drink over toward the pool tables.

Life went on.

Life went on.

Life went on.

What had happened had happened. She could let it all haunt her forever, or she could accept that she hadn’t been perfect, and that she’d made mistakes. She’d given a man too much grace, and fought for something she had no business fighting for. She’d messed up so much, and she had to deal with that. She had to live with it, but again…life went on.

Tonight, she was going to do something she’d sworn she would never do again.

She was going to listen to a man.

She was going to do exactly what King had said.

She was going to remember how to just breathe.