35. Mai

The sensation of the cool leather seat pressed against my skin. My wrists and ankles chafed from the tight bindings that held me. The muffled rhythm of tires crunching on gravel played like a somber tune, filling the otherwise silent atmosphere of the moving car.

As they'd bundled me into the back of this car, I'd caught a glimpse of other vehicles. There seemed to be between ten and fifteen in total, all packed with enforcers. It was a show of force and unity and a reminder of the power Hayley and Brock now had.

I'd seen Hayley and Brock getting into one black SUV. And then I caught sight of Sofia. She had been bound just like me and thrown into the back of a third car. She was alive. I didn't know what they had in store for her, but if she was coming to the Meet as well, it probably wasn't a good sign.

It was just me and the driver in my car. I squinted, trying to make out his silhouette. He was unfamiliar—I couldn't place his face or his scent. He looked to be in his late thirties, with light-brown hair in a buzz cut, broad shoulders, and a bright red birthmark on the back of his neck. Maybe one of Brock's new recruits? Something told me he was no rookie, though, but someone used to doing tasks like this.

"Hey! Driver Guy! You got a name?"

Silence. He didn't even twitch.

"Hey! Dude, I'm talking to you."

Great. With nothing to distract me, this journey was going to suck.

"Look, Driver Guy—and unless you tell me your name, I'm going to have to keep calling you Driver Guy—I'm pretty sure you're driving me to my death, no? So, why don't you cut a girl a break? A little chitchat isn't going to cause problems."

Nope. Nothing.

Fabulous.

I pulled against my restraints for the hundredth time, but there was still no give in them. My mind wandered as I kept it up, yanking and twisting, trying to loosen the ropes. Was Ryan safe? Was he at the Meet already? Were we going to pull this off, or was I really driving to my death? I had so many questions, the butterflies in my stomach were doing loop-the-loops. What about Shya and the Bridgetown Pack? Were they under attack right now? Would they be able to defeat Tristan, knowing that he was coming? Were Henry and Tucker safe? I hoped they kicked Tristan's ass. The thought of losing more friends, more Pack members, hit me with the force of a bowling ball to the stomach.

I felt it when we left the Three Rivers territory. A flash of awareness ran along my Pack bonds. Huh. That was new.

The sensation was almost electric, like an invisible tether had snapped taut, pulling at the very core of my being. It was disorienting and comforting at the same time. Was it my bond with Ryan that gave me this awareness, or the fact that I was challenging for the Alpha pair of this territory? Did all Alphas feel this way when they left their territory?

I closed my eyes, concentrating on the lingering sensation. It was as if a part of me, an essential fragment of my soul, was being left behind. I wondered if Ryan felt it too, this sudden stretching of our Pack bond, like a rubber band stretched to its limits but not breaking.

For a moment, my mind filled with images of him—the laser focus in his eyes when he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world; the strength in his arms when he lifted me up like I weighed nothing; the feel of his lips against my skin.

I shook my head, snapping back to reality. Now wasn't the time to get lost in thought. I had to get out of this mess.

Regional Meets to announce a new Alpha pair were always on neutral territory, so no one Pack held the advantage. Each Pack would send a team a couple of days ahead of the Meet to secure the area and make sure that no other Packs were planning something nefarious. Derek had let us know that this Meet was due to be held in Knowlton. The Packs had hired an old camping ground there, giving us seclusion from the human world but plenty of modern facilities.

My thoughts shattered when the car veered off sharply to the left and headed down a side road. I twisted around, looking back to see the rest of the convoy continuing straight on. Panic spiked. What the hell was going on?

"Hey! Driver Guy! You missed the road!" I yelled.

Still no answer. Okay, then. I drew my bound legs up to my chest, then slammed them into the back of the driver's seat. "Where are you taking me? Answer me, you dickhead!"

The dickhead remained silent, his eyes fixed on the road. I kicked again, and again, and again, watching with some satisfaction as his body jumped forward with every strike.

Outside, the woods were growing denser, and the road narrowed. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, each one more terrifying than the last. Was this part of the plan? Was this a betrayal? Was I being taken somewhere to be killed or rescued? Surely, if it was a rescue, he'd have talked to me by now?

I continued to kick and yell, trying to distract him or get him to talk. "Tell me." Kick. "Where." Kick. "We're going!" Kick. "You owe me that much!"

The driver's silence was a wall I wasn't breaking through. The sense of desperation grew, clawing at my throat, choking me. I knew I had to keep it together, had to find a way out of this. But the uncertainty, the fear, suddenly felt overwhelming. I could only hope that Ryan was safe, that the others were okay. Would Ryan's mate bond tell him where I'd gone? Would he be able to track me here? I couldn't rely on that. I had to trust that they would handle things on their end, trust that I could get myself out of this. Because one thing was clear to me. I was on my own.

The car's sudden stop jolted me forward. I scanned out the window to see an old, secluded cabin surrounded by gnarled trees. The driver turned in his seat to look at me. He was handsome in a classic sense, with a strong jaw and a straight nose, but his eyes were cold and calculating.

"My name is not Driver Guy," he said, his voice calm and low.

"Hallelujah, Driver Guy speaks!"

"I'm Carl. I'm your executioner for today."

Okay. The way he said it left me in no doubt that he meant it and sent spikes of fear along my spine.

"Brock asked me to pass on a message."

"Yeah?"

"As you might have realized by now, you're not going to the Pack Meet," he continued in his calm voice that was starting to really get on my nerves. Somehow, this was worse: the calm, everyday conversation we were having. He just told me he planned to kill me. It should have some emotion behind it, anger or vengeance or justice. But this? This was just another chore for him, like changing a car tire.

"Brock decided that Sofia's execution at the Meet will serve just as good a warning as yours. So, you are no longer needed. You and Ryan have to challenge for leadership of the Three Rivers by the end of the Meet. Given that, he couldn't risk taking you there, not when Ryan likely has a plan to release you and give you the opportunity to make that challenge. Brock wanted a way to make sure neither of you was there."

My breath caught in my throat as the reality of the situation hit me. They were using the mate bond as a trap, betting that Ryan would come to rescue me rather than go to the Meet.

"You think Ryan will fall for this?"

Carl responded by pulling out a gun, the cold metal gleaming in the dim light. He brandished it with a smirk, the sinister glint in his eyes a promise of a deadly confrontation. "Yes. And when he does, I'll be here, waiting for him."

I stared at the gun, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind reeling. This was more than a threat; it was a challenge, a dare. They were playing with our lives, manipulating our bond, and all I could do was hope that Ryan would see through it.

Carl got out, opened my door, and grabbed me. I fought. There was nothing else I could do, so I kicked and screamed and threw my body around. Carl just sighed, like I was a puppy who'd peed on the floor. Then he punched me in the stomach. I doubled over, the wind knocked out of me, as Carl picked me up and carried me into the cabin.

He left me tied to a chair in the middle of the cabin, the door slamming shut behind him.

This was not good. I was petrified. Not just for myself, but for Ryan, for the Pack, for the future we were trying to build. This wasn't just a battle for leadership; it was a fight for the very soul of our Pack, and we were losing.

My mind went back to Sofia, to the horror that awaited her at the Meet. And for what? To serve as a twisted warning? The injustice of it all gnawed at me, the rage and despair intertwining until I felt like I was drowning in it.

I was so angry with Brock and Hayley. Their treachery, their manipulations, their willingness to destroy everything we held dear, all for power and control. How had it come to this? How had we let them win?

For the first time, I felt truly defeated. The ropes binding my wrists were tight, but they were nothing compared to the sick sensation of helplessness that squeezed my entire body.

I pulled at my bonds, the frustration boiling over, but they held fast. Tears stung my eyes, but there was no way I was letting them fall. I wasn't going to break, not now.

I rocked the chair to the left and the right, then the left again, tipping myself over onto the ground with a dull thud. I froze, waiting to see if Carl would come in. Nothing. Probably out there lying in wait for Ryan, the prick.

My legs were strapped to the chair. I wriggled and thrashed. And didn't move a fucking inch of the bonds. Sure, tip the chair over so I can lie on the dusty, cold floor.

Great bloody idea, Mai.