Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

Evelyn

I shifted back to my human form, the forest floor cool on my bare feet. I reached back for the backpack. Rowan handed it to me, and I pulled out my clothes, dressing as quickly as possible with my shaking hands.

Why were we here again? We'd scouted this place. Every scent was a dead end, and there was nothing to go off of.

But the scent I found was leading straight to it.

We looped the perimeter, this time hearing nothing.

"I unlocked the window again. When we left last time," Rowan whispered.

Last time. I thought of his lips on my skin. His hands curled around my thighs. I had a feeling this was not going to be the same experience.

The pungent odor hit my nose as soon as we stepped inside—that same masked, synthetic scent that had led us here before. I inhaled deeply, trying to pinpoint the source. It seemed to be emanating from the kitchen.

I stomped over, growing more irritated with each step. There was nothing here. I crossed the room and yelped as my foot caught the edge of a rolled corner of the rug. My knees hit the ground with a hollow thud.

I winced, but before I could register the pain in my knees, my wolf whimpered. I heard it, girl. I crouched down and flipped up the rug, examining the boards more closely. There. One plank was slightly uneven, the grain not quite matching up with its neighbors. I dug my nails in and pulled.

The board came free with a groan, revealing a dark, gaping hole underneath—a trap door. I growled under my breath. No wonder we hadn't found it last time. It had been concealed so cleverly I never would have noticed if not for the scent.

"Rowan, look at this," I called over my shoulder. "There's a hidden tunnel. The scent is coming from down there."

He came to peer into the darkness beside me. "I don't like this."

"Yeah." I didn't like it either, but what choice did we have? There was something here, I could almost taste it.

Rowan pulled up the next floorboard and lowered himself into the hole. I followed, finding rungs on a solid iron ladder. Rowan's hands were on my waist before I hit the final three steps, and he didn't let go until I was safely on the ground.

The tunnel was narrow and musty, the earthen walls pressing in on either side as we moved deeper underground. The air grew thick and heavy, and the only sound was our muffled footsteps and the occasional drip of water. Even with my enhanced vision, I could barely see a foot in front of me. I kept one hand on the wall, the other outstretched to maintain my balance.

"Remember when we snuck into that abandoned factory as kids?" Rowan's voice was close. "Looking for buried treasure or something?"

Even though I knew he was trying to distract me, it still worked. I drew a deep breath. "I'm pretty sure the only thing we found was a colony of bats and some rusty nails."

He kept a hand on my lower back as we pressed forward, and after what felt like an eternity, the tunnel began to widen. A faint light appeared ahead.

I held up a hand, signaling Rowan to slow. Cautiously, we inched forward and peeked around the edge into the chamber beyond.

The room was small and bare, lit by a single lamp. The walls were rough-hewn stone, the floor packed dirt. And there, in the center of the chamber, lay a glinting object.

My heart stuttered. It was the dagger. I glanced back at Rowan, seeing my own shock and excitement mirrored in his eyes. Hardly daring to breathe, we stepped into the room. It was empty—nothing to clear.

Rowan gripped my hand as we walked forward, and just as I crouched to pick up the dagger, a strange, sickly sweet scent suddenly flooded the chamber, yanking me out of my trance. I froze, all of my training snapping to the forefront of my mind. That scent...I knew that scent.

Six months ago, Bruce and I had responded to an urgent call late one night in Seattle. A routine check for an unresponsive individual.

We'd knocked with no response, then used the landlord's key to enter the small apartment. The air was thick with a sweet, chemical scent that immediately set me on edge, but Bruce was already charging ahead.

I'd called after him, but it was too late. He'd already reached the unconscious man, crouching down to assess him.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and I realized what was happening. "Fentanyl!" I shouted, but Bruce was already sagging to the floor, the powerful opioid overwhelming him almost instantly.

My heart pounded as I fought to stay conscious. Who the hell hotboxed an apartment with that shit? I grabbed my radio, called for backup, and pulled the naloxone from my med kit. I moved quickly, jabbing myself and then pulling Bruce back toward the door to get him out of the contaminated area. The world was spinning, but I administered a dose to him, too.

That had been the second time I'd saved his life.

"Rowan, don't breathe!" I shouted, immediately clamping my mouth shut and holding my breath. My mind raced as I spun around, searching for the source of the vapor. There wasn't time.

Panic clawed at my throat as I fumbled for my backpack, my fingers clumsy in my haste. I had to find my medical kit. Had to find the naloxone. It was the only thing that could counteract the fentanyl and buy us enough time to get out of here.

But even as I rummaged through my pack, I could feel the drug beginning to take effect. My head swam, my vision blurring at the edges. No, no, no . I gritted my teeth, fighting against the pull of unconsciousness. I had to stay awake. Had to save us.

A thud from behind me. I whirled around to see Rowan crumple to the ground, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Rowan!" His name tore from my throat in a ragged scream. I lurched toward him, my legs like lead weights. The room tilted and spun around me, the torch flames stretching into dizzying spirals.

I collapsed to my knees beside Rowan, my trembling fingers scrabbling at his neck, desperate to find a pulse. But my own heart was pounding too loudly, drowning out everything else. Black spots danced across my vision, and I felt myself falling, falling...

No. With a burst of determination, I wrenched myself back from the brink. I couldn't pass out. Rowan needed me. We needed each other.

Holding my breath until my lungs burned, I upended my backpack with shaking hands, scattering its contents across the dirt floor. Bandages, antiseptic, painkillers... there. My fingers closed around the small naloxone kit.

Put on your own oxygen mask first.

But even as I fumbled to open it, I could feel my grip on consciousness slipping. The edges of my vision tunneled, narrowing to a pinpoint. Rowan's face swam in and out of focus, his features slack and pale.

I had to...had to...

The naloxone slipped from my numb fingers as the darkness rushed up to claim me.