8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Z oya

I knew there was a reason I trusted Lash. The moment I tell him that Saturdays are Max’s long days, he bursts into action. He calls a few friends, has one of them drive by my old address to make certain Max’s car isn’t there, and asks the others for help even though it’s their day off.

“I’ve got to bounce. Here’s the TV clicker.” He tosses it to me. “The next time you see me, I’ll have Miska in my arms.” He flashes me a smile that shows all four of his fangs. Although I’ve only known him a few hours, those long teeth don’t terrify me at all anymore.

“No. No TV. I go with you.”

Marissa was kind enough to have brought over some clothes for me: leggings, tees, and some casual dresses. I’m wearing a pink dress with yellow daisies around the neckline. It’s too big for me, and gapes a little, but I’m happy to have it. I stand and slip into my shoes.

“I’m ready.”

For the first time since I met him last night, Lash treats me to his serious, angry face.

“No, Zoya. I want you to feel you have the power to make your own decisions, but this is too much. What if he comes home early? You won’t be safe.” His brow is knitted, telling me just how hard it is for him to be so firm with me.

“You wait here. Trust me to bring your dog.” As if things are settled, he changes the subject and asks, “Where do you keep the dog food? I’ll grab it.”

I haven’t had enough to eat for years before coming to America and it hasn’t been much better in the five months I’ve been here, so needless to say, I’m skinny and weak. For some reason, though, I feel strong in Lash’s presence. Strong enough to argue.

“I’m coming with you. You’ll scare Miska. She’ll bite you if I’m not there.” My big lie pulls a laugh from Lash, though he tries to hide it. He’s right, though. It’s funny to think of my little white furball hurting the big wolf-man even if she were to bite him.

Although it’s a warm day, he pulls a hooded sweatshirt from his closet, stalks to the front door, and stands still as he thinks things over. His ears pull back, communicating his inner conflict.

“Any chance you’ll give in on this?” His tone has already admitted defeat, so I shake my head in defiance.

“Okay, but we may get caught. I’ll move heaven and earth so you don’t wind up in his clutches, but the police might get involved.”

“I trust you.”

He shakes his head as though he disapproves, then says, “Okay. Let’s go.”

We pad down the steps and sit in what Lash calls the den. He motions me to sit in the chair he sat in last night, somehow knowing I’ll be more comfortable sitting away from all the other Wolven.

They are all kind to me as we make introductions.

There’s Fang who I met last night. He keeps a respectful distance as he pulls his lips over his fangs so as not to scare me. I should probably mention that I’m not terrified anymore, but I’m too busy greeting the older male Fury, who also has piercing silver eyes, and Bold, who is in charge. Several others introduce themselves, all so soft-spoken and respectful, that I wonder if Lash texted them when I wasn’t looking and asked them to be extra nice to me.

It’s obvious they notice the bruise on my cheek and my puffy lip as well as the finger-shaped bruises on my upper arms because their gazes rest there for an extra moment. Maybe I should have worn something else. I’m so rarely out of the house, so used to being bruised, that it didn’t even dawn on me to hide it.

Soon, they change their focus and get down to business, planning every moment of the operation from start to finish.

Although I can’t wait to see Miska, and hate to think of any of the males, even Lash, pawing through my clothing, I don’t argue when they all agree I should wait in the car with Fang in the front seat, ready to drive off if problems arise.

“Will you be safe?” I ask, suddenly worried about what will happen if the neighbors call the police or if, heaven forbid, Max is hiding in the apartment.

“If the police show up, we have every right to be in the apartment, given that your things are still there and you’ve given us permission. And if Max shows…” He can’t hide the angry gleam in his eyes. “If Max shows up, he’ll lose against three wolven.”

All the males pull their hoods over their heads before we leave the gates of the Zone. The National Guards at the entry gate barely pay any attention. Their job is to keep people out, not keep the Wolven Warriors in.

My heart is beating so hard, I imagine all the males in the car can hear it. I’m terrified not for me this time, but for them.

Lash winks at me and flashes me that fang-filled smile before he gets out of the car. “We’ll be back in a flash.” To Fang, he says, “Keep your head on a swivel and peel out at the first sign of trouble.”

Lash has been full of calm optimism, but those last words underscore my fear that something could go wildly wrong.

I drum my fingers on my thigh, trying to distract myself as the minutes tick by with agonizing slowness. Fang clears his throat.

“So, uh, nice weather we’re having.” His voice overflows with forced casualness.

I peek over at him and can’t help but smile at his attempt to distract me. “Yes, very nice.”

“Perfect day for a little B&E,” he jokes. When I look at him blankly, he clarifies, “Breaking and entering.”

“Ah.” I nod. “Well, technically, I did give you permission to grab my things, even though it’s Max’s apartment…”

“Exactly! Nothing shady about it at all.” His laugh is a little too high-pitched.

Silence stretches between us again. I stare out the window, willing Lash and the others to emerge. What’s taking so long? Did they run into trouble?

Fang’s claws tap out a beat on the steering wheel. “Want to hear a joke?”

“Sure.” Perhaps it will stop my mind from running increasingly dire scenarios.

“Okay, what do you call a bear with no teeth?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, what?”

He grins. “A gummy bear!”

A surprised laugh escapes me. “That’s terrible!”

“Made you laugh, though.” He looks quite proud of himself.

I’m about to ask him to tell another joke when movement catches my eye. My breath catches. But it’s not Max or the police. It’s Lash and his friends hurrying toward the car, a small, white, furry bundle tucked under his arm.

“They got her!” Relief floods through me as they pile into the backseat.

One of the males, Courage, says, “You should tell her what a good guy you are. If I were in your spot, I couldn’t have held back.”

I raise an eyebrow in question, but Lash shakes his head as he says, “Later.” He grins as he hands me a happily panting Miska. “Piece of cake. Let’s get out of here.”

As Fang pulls away from the curb, I bury my face in Miska’s soft fur, my eyes welling with tears. After everything, having her safe in my arms feels like a miracle.

I look up and meet Lash’s warm silver gaze. “Thank you,” I whisper.

He reaches over to lightly touch my shoulder. “Anything for you, Zoya. You’re safe now, both of you.”

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I actually believe that might be true.