Chapter 5

5

Tami

I hold my phone out over the counter at the police station, showing the officers a photo of Tiffany. Their faces show no concern.

“Did you not hear me? I said my friend's boyfriend planned to kidnap and rape me, and he and his friends are going to sell my friend into sex trafficking. Can you please send a patrol car to my apartment?” I repeat. They ignore me.

What the hell?

These cops don’t care. Why am I wasting my time asking the people I pay taxes to protect and serve me to do their jobs?

“Look, lady, we're not wasting resources because you're having a roommate squabble. Go stay at a friend's house or get a hotel room for a couple of nights until you sort things out. Now stop wasting my time before you end up spending the night here instead,” one officer shouts. I lower my phone in defeat. They laugh as I turn and head for the door .

I can't go back—they'll be waiting for me. I pause at the front door of the station when I see Julian standing at the end of the street, waiting. My heart races. I turn to go back inside, only to bump into a young detective. I trip, but he catches me. His eyes follow mine as I look back at Julian, then he looks at me.

“Let me walk you to your car,” he offers. I nod nervously, unsure whom to trust.

“I heard you begging the police for help about you and your friend. I'm sorry to say, but you're better off cutting your losses here,” he says. The detective is clean-cut, tall, and slender, wearing a suit. He stays by my side, keeping an eye on Julian as he walks me to my car.

“Figures,” I mutter. He stands beside me at the driver's side door.

“It's obvious that the sex trafficking industry goes deep within our government system. No local enforcement is going to help you. You’re better off hiding out for the night, then heading to a federal agency for support. Those officers aren't going to tell you that because they don’t care. Hell, they’re probably waiting for that guy across the street to catch you so they can bid on you for a night. If I were you, I'd run and lay low until they forget about you,” he warns. He steps back, watching as I open the driver's door and climb in. I start my engine and roll down my window, noticing Julian turn away and walk off. He’s probably going to get into his car to follow me.

“So that's it? I’m on my own and my friend is lost to me?”

“You can always find a way to get a gun and handle it yourself. There’s too much going on in the city for us to help you. We have bigger fish to fry with all these supernaturals popping up. I’m telling you this because I’ve got a sister, and I’d want someone to warn her. Get out of here before you end up on the auction block.” He says, then he walks away.

I quickly put my car in drive, not knowing where to go. Thankfully, I have a full tank of gas. I pull out onto the street and immediately see the headlights of Julian’s SUV following me. My hands shake as I head into Downtown Detroit, then take Jefferson Ave to I-75 north, the freeway that leads straight to Wintermoon.

Tears blur my vision as I merge onto the freeway, with Julian’s SUV right behind me. I keep driving, knowing I’ll eventually run out of gas. There’s no way I can make it to Wintermoon on a single tank, and Julian knows that. He’s going to follow me until one of us has to leave the freeway.

I’ve got six hours to think about what to do. When I see flashing lights from a police vehicle and Julian pulling over onto the shoulder, I thank my lucky stars. That detective must have stopped him to buy me some time. I keep going, unsure if I should take the next exit and disappear or stick to the path ahead.

I can’t go to Angie’s house; I’d just bring trouble her way, and she has kids. I won’t do that. I might find refuge in Wintermoon, but they don’t just let anyone in. What if I beg? I’ll clean toilets for a year on the island if it keeps me safe from becoming a sex slave.

I don’t know why, but I keep driving. After several hours, I’m down to a quarter tank of gas in mid-Michigan, some town I’ve never heard of. I take the exit to a truck station to refuel.

I have until Tuesday to figure out what to do before I miss work. Maybe I should find a hotel, but Julian will probably be watching my job, waiting for me to show up.

I pull into a brightly lit gas station with a diner attached. I’m hungry, but my stomach is in knots, and my nerves are on edge. I park at one of the fueling stations, turn off the engine, and grab some cash from my purse.

I’m wearing a skimpy night dress, boots, and leggings under a thick winter coat. I don’t exactly look like I’m coming home from a long night’s work. I button up my coat to conceal my appearance and walk inside to pay for my pump.

I keep my head down as I pay for my gas, then rush out of the store to refuel and get back on the road.

“Is everything okay, little lady?”

My eyes dart up. An unnaturally tall man stands on the other side of my car. There's no doubt in my mind—he's a shifter. Our eyes meet briefly, and he smiles.

“No, I—I’m fine,” I stammer. It's a blatant lie, but I need him to leave.

“You don’t have to fear me, little lady. I’m not going to do anything to hurt you,” he says.

I glare at him, and he chuckles, stepping back to put more distance between us. He holds up his large hands in surrender. He’s dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans, big boots, and a baseball cap. This man is so big I'm sure all of his clothes are custom-made. Or maybe there are retail stores for shifters—who knows?

“Are you one of them?” I blurt out. It's stupid to ask, but he just laughs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. His face is covered in facial hair, and with the cap, I can barely see his features. He’s in human form, but the human in me knows he’s not your typical trucker. He’s a shifter.

“Yes, ma’am, if that’s what you want to call it,” he replies in a husky, yet friendly tone. “Listen, little lady, if you’re in trouble—“

Thankfully, my gas finishes pumping. I quickly return the pump to the fueling station and walk over to my driver’s side door.

“Nope, I’m fine. In a hurry is all. Take care,” I say, climbing into my car and starting the engine. I put the car in drive and slam on the gas, speeding out of the gas station, leaving him standing there. Maybe I should have said something—he was nice and offering to help.

I don’t know who to trust. I keep going, taking the ramp back onto the freeway, heading north. With a full tank of gas and two more hours before I reach the bridge, I maintain my speed and try to think of what to do. The further I drive, the messier the roads get. The blizzard picks up, and visibility drops to almost nothing. I need to stop driving before I hurt myself. There’s practically no one on the freeway except me, but I keep pushing on, trying to get to the bridge as if something is waiting for me.

I drive for another three hours. The weather slows me down, burning more fuel than usual. The snow comes down so heavily I can't make out the warning signs I pass. I've been driving all night, and as the sun starts to rise, I yawn sleepily, realizing just how long I’ve been up.

When I finally hit the exit for the bridge, I take the ramp and drive through a small town. The bridge is closed. I can't argue my way into Wintermoon. I park and step out of the car, letting large snowflakes hit my head.

I'm exhausted, both mentally and physically. Tears stream down my cheeks. It's closed because of the weather. Stupid of me to come all this way with just a sliver of hope. I turn around and see the bright lights of an SUV approaching. In a panic, I scramble back into my car, unsure of my next move. Oh my god, Julian followed me all the way up north. This is insane.

I don't have a choice. Either I break through the barrier and push into Wintermoon, or let this man take me. I grip the steering wheel tightly and slam on the gas, knocking over the boards blocking the bridge.

What I'm doing is dangerous. I could crash and end up in the water. But I'd rather die this way than become a sex slave. I keep my speed low, knowing whoever it is won't run us both off the bridge. My panic rises as I see the SUV following me, its lights faint through the heavy snowfall.

“Fuck! Why won't he leave me alone!” I scream, wondering why I'm so important to him. The five-mile bridge feels endless. I finally reach the little hill of the bridge, but visibility is poor. This is so dangerous. What am I thinking?

I speed up a bit as I near the end, feeling a bit relieved when the SUV's lights disappear. As soon as I hit Wintermoon’s territory, my tires strike something, causing me to lose control. My car swerves off-road and flips. I scream, fear coursing through me like never before. They probably set traps to prevent trespassers.

My car rolls, my head slamming in every direction. It tumbles down into the forest, my head repeatedly hitting the steering wheel until I'm knocked unconscious.

Is this how I die? Still, it's better than the hell Julian had waiting for me.