18. Chapter Eighteen

Ilost the asshole in town. As I passed through, my phone started to ring.

"Hey." The way he said it, deep, calm, and pleased, sent shivers down my spine.

"Hi," I replied. "I'm on my way over. I needed to get out of the bar. That call was Zuri. There's some stuff I need to tell you in person."

"Carey and I are about to have dinner. I'll make sure to set a third spot at the table for you. We're going to be talking about her upcoming birthday, too. That's just around the corner. She's already got a horse. How do I top that?"

"I…I don't know," I admitted. "But you'll figure it out."

He chuckled. "I'll let you drive. See you soon."

"Definitely," I promised. I dropped the phone back into its cupholder. Heath didn't like me talking and driving because I didn't have a fancy dashboard that picked up my calls.

Oliver isn't the only person who needs a ride. I need to update.

I was minding my own business, driving the speed limit thanks to the traffic, and finally hit an open stretch of road when a new truck decided to get right behind me and stick to my back end like he was glued there. The road clear, but this guy—I assumed a man was driving—hovered right behind me.

"Pass, asshole. What the fuck is wrong with everyone driving today?" I checked my rearview mirror. The windows were too dark for me to see anything, but I hit the gas, trying to pick up a little speed. Five over would have to please this guy.

He matched me and stayed there. I rolled my eyes before focusing on the road. Trying to ignore the truck, I thought about how I was going to tell Heath about the call with Zuri. That was the least pleasant part of this small diversion. Heath's cooking was better than any takeout I could get, and an evening with Carey would be good for me, too. I hadn't seen her since I had broken down at their home, mostly because I just wanted to hide in my office and didn't want her to see the sorry state I was in.

I heard the glass shatter and felt glass sting my face, cutting open my cheeks. I closed my eyes for a moment. Something stung my shoulder, and the suddenness made me jerk the wheel without thinking. My ears were ringing as I straightened myself out.

What?

It was then my mind registered the gunshots tearing up my backseat and dashboard, then the sound of silenced gunshots, hidden under the roar of the wind through my broken windows.

I looked up at my rearview mirror to see the truck wasn't there anymore, forcing me to look back if I wanted to see who was shooting at me. I took the risk, trying to turn to look over my shoulder without sending myself off the road. The same truck was there, and there was someone hanging out the passenger side window, holding a gun I couldn't identify. He was reloading already, which gave me a moment's break.

I focused on the road again, slamming the gas pedal to the floor. I slid down, trying to keep a view of the road and stay safe at the same time. The fact I had only been hit once was a blessing. Shooting out of a moving vehicle was harder than the movies and video games made it seem.

I heard one of my tires pop and started losing control, then a bullet clipped my right hand, barely missing my head. I dropped the hand into my lap, hissing as adrenaline kept me focused on driving.

The truck decided to ram me, and my little Nissan Versa couldn't take it. I went off the road, bumping into the ditch on the side. The stop slammed my head on the steering wheel, causing the damn car to honk. I groaned as I sat up and grabbed my phone.

I need to call Heath.

This was car accident number three for me. Luckily, it was the least severe. As the truck stopped on the side of the road, I unclicked my seatbelt and crawled to the passenger's side. I got out of the car as the two guys got out of the truck and started firing blindly into my car. There was no one around. I was out of Jacksonville, on the stretch of highway between my town and Tyler. Heath was only five minutes away, but there wasn't anything with good enough hearing to catch the silenced gunfire.

"Die, you fucking freak!" one of them screamed.

Freak? Who are these guys?

"We don't want your kind here!" he continued.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I yelled back. "I own a fucking bar!"

"We know what you are!" More gunfire.

That's why you're not getting close, huh? You're going to stay up there and eventually hit me.

Two options—fight or run as a human. Can't Change. Don't have time to strip, and my clothes will get in the way if I don't.

The answer was clear. I didn't know who these two were, but it was broad daylight and on a main road. They were bold for trying to kill me right now, but I wasn't bold enough to kill them. The BSA was already onto me. Killing humans, no matter why, wasn't something I could do right now.

I waited for a moment of silence, then took off into the trees, running faster than I believed I had ever done before. I heard them firing and saw bark explode on the trees, but I didn't look back, didn't have the luxury of looking back. I ran until they stopped shooting. I ran until I knew they couldn't catch me. I just ran. Luckily, I knew the terrain. This was my territory. I knew every game trail, every path people had worn down with their dirt bikes and four-wheelers. I angled and headed in the direction of Heath's home.

My legs were on fire when I decided to slow down to a jog. I looked back, seeing only trees, and finally stopped.

"What the fuck?" I asked, then winced as the throbbing pain in my shoulder made itself known. I reached up with my free hand and gingerly tried to find where I had been hit.

Just a graze. Oh, that could have been so much worse. They knew I wasn't human and were trying to kill me.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that meant. The BSA either just tried to have me killed or had a leak in their organization. There were fringe organizations that killed supernaturals, but they rarely made the news. Most supernaturals were hard to kill. They would rant and rave about the dangers of werewolves, witches, or fae, but no one took them seriously. There were lots of people who didn't like supernaturals, but most of those people preferred to ignore the new reality that supernaturals existed.

I never gave the fringe killers any thought and had never heard of a case where they actually succeeded. Living in secret meant they were never going to be a threat to me.

But I'm not living in secret anymore. The BSA caught me.

I focused on everything around me as I tried to call Heath.

"Heath?" I said when I heard him pick up. All I got was a crackling noise on the other side. "Heath! Someone ran me off the road. They were shooting at me. I'm out in the woods near your place, and I'm walking. I would love a ride, though." I knew he had off-road vehicles for simple work around his property. A ride on a four-wheeler would have been nice.

The call disconnected.

"Fuck!" I snapped, shoving the phone into my pocket. Useless.

Walking it is.

It took twenty minutes. A five-minute drive was a lot longer on foot through the hilly terrain of East Texas. I had to cross two back streets, hoping none of the humans who lived there saw me. I found his property line and was so exhausted by the time I staggered into his backyard. At first glance, I didn't see anyone, but I knew my service was better near his place. As I walked to his back door, I pulled my phone out and sent Oliver a quick text to stay safe, and I would explain more when I had the chance. Then I sent a message to Hasan, asking for the family to get back together, telling him I was attacked and would be home soon. Texting with one hand was a pain in the ass, but I was trying to ignore the terrible throbbing pain coming from my bleeding right hand. I certainly didn't want to look at it.

I heard screaming in the background, someone saying my name, but I didn't look up, glaring at my phone, waiting for my texts to be read.

By the time I made it to Heath's backdoor, he was there, opening it with a terrified expression. I shoved my phone back into my pocket, looked between them, then entered the house in silence. Carey was pale, but she wasn't screaming anymore. Neither of the Eversons said anything as I went to their kitchen and grabbed the ice pack I knew they kept in their freezer with my left hand. Heath grabbed the first aid kit and met me at the table.

"Want to tell me what happened?" he asked, his voice tight. "Carey, find some towels, so we can clean up Jacky."

"Okay, Dad." She ran out of the dining room.

"I was run off the road," I said simply. "Well, I was also shot at, a lot, but the off the road part is the reason I'm walking through your backdoor looking like I got into a fight."

"I'm going to assume nothing is too bad if you're here like this," he said, the tense note in his words refusing to give way.

"A graze on my shoulder, the bump forming on my forehead, glass scratches from the windshields being blown out." I lifted my right hand, which was a disaster. "This. I'll need a hospital. The bullet hit and broke bones. It wasn't a hard enough crash to deploy airbags, though. I don't know if the bullet was silver. I didn't have time to really register the pain. Once I had the chance to run, I did."

Carey came back with an armful of washcloths, went to the sink, wetting one, then gave it to me.

"Thank you," I said, trying to give her a smile. I winced as I wiped my face. "They called me a freak and said they didn't want my kind around this part."

Heath paused as he looked over my shoulder. "Extremists?"

"The BSA must have a leak," I said softly. "I'm going to handle that. I need a ride home, though. My Nissan is out of commission. Ironically, I was considering finally buying a new car."

He didn't look amused. "I'll get you back to the bar. You're handling this well."

"I'm not handling it at all," I said softly. "I'm pretending as if it's a normal day, and eventually, that's not going to work. We both know that, so I would prefer to continue ignoring what this means for me and just get on with what needs to be done about it."

He nodded.

"Carey, you're coming with us. If we have an extremist group going after Jacky, there's a chance they don't like werewolves, either."

"Why me and not you, though?" I hadn't thought about that yet, but Heath brought up a good point. "You're out. They know you're a werewolf. They would have only just found out I'm a werecat."

"You're alone and vulnerable. That's how wolves stay safe from these people. Witches, too. There's strength in numbers. Attack one of us and get the pack or the coven. Do they know you lived?"

"They didn't follow me into the woods, they were smarter than that, but yeah, they know I lived. If they really want me dead, they'll try again." I winced again as Heath cleaned off my injured shoulder. "Silver?"

"Yes," he whispered. "You're in for another scar."

"Fuck." I huffed. "Probably a lucky guess, yeah? Werewolves, werecats, both change at the full moon, both weak to silver."

"I don't like that they have silver in general. I'll need to tell the NAWC you've run into humans using silver and trying to murder a moon cursed. This is a problem." He stood and sighed. "There's not much I can do more for you other than clean it up. You got lucky, Jacky. You got really lucky. You do need a hospital for that hand, for X-rays and setting. That needs to happen before you do anything else."

"I know. I got lucky they had bad aim. They damn near took my head off—" My phone started ringing. I tried to pull it out, but Heath got it when he saw me fighting to get it. He answered, then held it to my ear.

"Are you okay?" Hasan demanded.

"I'm fine. I need a small hospital visit for one of my hands that was hit, and bones were broken. A few scratches and a couple of new scars—"

"Who did this?" Hasan snarled. "I'm going to start packing—"

Oh, no. No, no. No, he's going to stay right where he fucking is.

"Humans. They shot at me, ran me off the road, then shot at me some more. Look, I know you want to descend on my territory with everyone under the sun, but I really think that's only going to make this worse. Somehow, these humans learned what I am, learned I'm supernatural—"

"Yes, I do want to descend on your territory. Do you honestly think we won't come and defend you—"

"Hasan, listen to me. There's a human government involved. If you get involved, if any of our family gets involved, we'd expose how powerful we are, how old we are. We're older than the werewolves. They'll put that together." He didn't reply, but I heard a soft, unending growl. "On top of that, you are a member of the Tribunal. Do you really think the Tribunal is going to be okay with more of the members being in the public eye? Callahan and Corissa from the werewolves already are. Let me handle the BSA. They leaked me to someone, or they hired someone to kill me. I can deal with this. I won't have all our plans at keeping the werecats out of the public eye ruined. I won't have it. I won't put everyone in the family at risk. I have backup. They made it abundantly clear that they know I hang out with Heath. I have other allies. There's no reason to give them information they obviously don't deserve."

I heard his exhale of defeat as he saw my reason.

"Get to the hospital," he ordered. "Send an email report of the full attack. We won't come yet, but if you find yourself backed into a corner, get out of there."

"Yeah, you don't need to tell me twice."

"And tell Alpha Everson thank you for continuing to be an ally to the family."

"I can hear you," Heath said. "She was on her way to my place when it happened. She came walking up to my backdoor. I'll get her to a hospital, then back to her bar."

"Good. One of you, keep me posted. I need to tell your siblings what happened."

"Bye." I hung up and looked up at Heath. "Let's get into the car and get moving."