14. Willow

FOURTEEN

Willow

We went out to get dinner. Doc was very casual in his approach to protecting me. I was sure Ned would have preferred me to be locked in the room, but Doc was more of a “let’s see what happens” kind of guy.

It was a little bit freeing and also slightly terrifying. I knew Caleb would disapprove, and it was probably for that reason that I was sitting in Doc’s truck, eating my weight in drive-thru burgers.

“Should we get Ned something?”

“He’ll eat on his own.” Doc didn’t look up from his fries. “You don’t need to worry about him.”

Was it wrong to say I wasn’t? I hadn’t given one thought to Ned until now. Opting for silence as the best answer, I ate my meal.

“So, apart from your ME,” Doc started, glancing over at me, “what else should I know about?”

I paused, my fry halfway to my mouth. “You mean like allergies? ”

“Sure.”

His casual indifference made me frown at him, and I saw him hide his smile as he sipped his soda.

“You’re a terrible interrogator,” I chided him, causing him to chuckle. “Not much to know about me, I’m afraid. Family history, I can’t tell you, I don’t know them. I was pretty healthy as a child.” Popping a fry into my mouth, I chewed quickly. “Medically speaking, I’m allergic to penicillin.”

“Inconvenient,” he murmured.

“Well, thankfully, I’ve never had to test it.” Picking up a fry, I dropped it again. “I’m O-negative, but I am sure you knew that.”

“Also inconvenient,” he said with a grin.

“Other than that, I’m normal.” I waggled my eyebrows at him, and he laughed.

“Any food intolerances, hay fever, shellfish?”

“Isn’t shellfish a food?” I teased.

“Accepted.” He rolled his wrapper up, his food finished. “Nothing alarming,” he agreed. “Not sure I would say normal though.” He winked playfully.

“True.” I finished my meal, and we gathered our trash into the bag. “I’ll drop this in the trash,” I told him, reaching for the door handle.

“I’ll do it. You stay in the truck.”

So maybe he’s not as casual with my safety as I thought . I watched him stride with confidence to the trash can, and then he lingered in front of a small jewelry store. He idled for a few minutes, and with a glance at the truck, he looked like he remembered I was there.

“See something you like?” I asked him when he got back in .

“I’m out of touch with some things,” he admitted. “I saw a necklace that an old friend would have liked.” He didn’t hide his wistfulness as he spoke.

“You’re no longer friends?” I guessed that’s what he meant by “out of touch.”

“No, I’m very much off the grid now.”

“Oh.” The atmosphere had changed slightly. “I’m sorry.” Curiosity pushed me to ask the next question. “What was it?”

“An amethyst silver necklace.” Doc pulled away from the sidewalk.

“Pretty,” I murmured. Tugging at my thin gold chain, I looked at the store as we passed. “I don’t wear silver,” I told him, wanting to lighten the mood to before. “I’m a gold girl myself.”

“Expensive,” he joked.

“Yeah, I know, I’m so high maintenance.” I laughed. “Plus, I prefer not to have the red itchy skin and blisters, you know.” I caught him staring at me. “I’m allergic to silver jewelry,” I explained. “Makes my skin break out.” He was still paying more attention to me and not the road. “Why are you staring? Are you trying to crash the truck?”

“Nothing,” Doc told me hastily, looking away.

Weird.

Back at the motel, we kept the door open again, and Doc asked me if I was comfortable with it open during the night, to which I said yes. I didn’t go on to tell him I felt safer like that, and I didn’t think I needed to. He was a pretty intuitive guy.

I was in bed, jammies on, sketchbook on my lap, when I heard Doc’s door open. The low murmuring of voices was still loud enough to identify Ned. When the interconnecting door got pulled closed with no explanation other than the unspoken message of them wanting privacy, I put my sketchbook aside and, like any other person would, went over to the door to listen.

I couldn’t hear anything, which annoyed me, and then I remembered they would hear me , and I hurried back to the bed. I sat and waited for one of them to come to me, but neither of them did, and the unmistakable sound of the main door closing had me hurrying out of bed again to go to the window and peer outside into the night.

“Go to bed, Willow.”

I yelped in surprise, turning to face Doc. “What happened? Why did he come back?”

Doc was at my bed, my sketchbook in his hands. “What’s this?” he asked me instead.

I flushed guiltily. “It’s just a doodle.”

Looking at me with raised eyebrows, he held the pad up. “This full-blown scene of a pack gathering is just a doodle?”

“I got carried away,” I told him, crossing the distance and taking the artist pad off him. “You gave me the idea earlier with the whole social gatherings. I was bored,” I added defensively. “I doodle when I’m bored.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then with a shake of his head, he went to the adjoining door. “Remind me never to show you my doodles .” He looked at me over his shoulder. “Get some sleep.”

It took a lot longer to sleep after Ned had left, but I did drift off eventually.

Waking up with a hand over my mouth, struggling to breathe was terrifying. My heart was racing as panic took over, and I fought for breath. It took me a moment to register where I was. The shadows of the unfamiliar room merged, adding to the sudden suffocating darkness. The weight of the hand against my mouth was too heavy, too constricting, and as I started to struggle, I felt another hand press into my shoulder.

“Shh, it’s me,” Ned whispered urgently. I instantly stopped fighting, but he kept his hand over my mouth. “You need to do everything I say,” he spoke into my ear. “No questions, no hesitation. Okay?” I nodded, and I felt the answering squeeze of my shoulder. “There’s no time to dress,” he added.

He removed his hand, and I felt him move away. Quickly I pushed back the covers, getting to my feet and stumbling over my sneakers, which he had placed as close as possible to the bed. I felt his hand grab me and steady me, the unspoken warning to be more careful communicated by the tight squeeze of my elbow. Slipping my sneakers on, I felt something soft being pushed into my hands. Recognizing it for my sweater, I pulled it hastily over my head.

I took a brief moment to take a deep inhale, pushing the last vestiges of sleep from me. Ned reached for me—I assumed it was him—and he led me away from the main door, keeping a firm hold of me.

I recognized the smell of the bathroom, and a thin sliver of moonlight seeped through the high window. A high window Ned was now pushing wide open. When I realized his intent, I was backing away, but he yanked me closer.

“I lift you up, you go through, you drop, land in a crouch. Brace yourself for impact, and try not to scream.”

Wait…what? Try not to scream? Brace myself? What the fuck ?

I had no chance to ask, because I was picked up and soon, I was grabbing for the thin window ledge. I wanted to scream at him that I was never going to fit through this, and how far was down on the other side, but he said to do what he asked, and I was too scared of whatever was out there to stop now.

The little air I had in my lungs left me with a whoosh as I was manhandled to the position that allowed me to wiggle through the window. It was a bit bigger than I’d thought, but I had no time to be thankful. A firm hand landed on my butt for a shove, and then I felt his hands on my sneakers, and I was practically pushed through the window.

Headfirst.

I swallowed my scream as I fell.

Land in a crouch? Was he joking? The fact I never broke my neck was a miracle as I clambered to my feet. A hand grabbed for me, and I yelped in fear, but a warm hand over my mouth and a flat palm between my shoulder blades let me know Ned was right behind me.

With a gentle shove, I started to run. We ran around the back of the motel, and I was confused as we ran away from where the truck was parked, but as promised, I never said a word. I needed my breath to do the sudden sprinting that was expected of me and to hold back the fear that was robbing me of every deep breath possible.

When I heard the footsteps behind us, I didn’t need Ned pulling my arm out of its socket to encourage me to run faster. My feet found their second wind easily.

The lights of a truck caught my attention, and I said nothing as I was scooped up, the door open, and then I was being bundled into the back seat of Doc’s truck. Doc already had the engine running and had the truck in reverse before Ned had closed the door.

“Hang on,” he told me.

The tyres screeched, screaming against the asphalt as they spun at the speed Doc used to reverse. The sharp smell of burning rubber surrounded us, and my body jolted forward as the car lurched into drive. I gasped against the tight pull of the seat belt against my chest.

“Seat belts work,” I grumbled through clenched teeth, but he ignored me.

Doc put his foot down, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, his eyes on the rearview more than the road in front of him. Every nerve in my body was on edge, and my heart felt like it was in my head with the pounding in my ears so loud.

We raced out of town, and from the tension of Doc’s shoulders, I kept my questions to myself, peering out into the darkness to see if I could see if we were being pursued.

The tension eased from him gradually, and it was only when his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel lessened that I dared ask my first question.

“Where’s Ned?”

“Behind us,” he answered, the tone of his voice tight. “Your backpack is on the floor. Check you have everything?”

I hadn’t even seen it, that’s how high my adrenaline had been. Pulling it onto the seat beside me, I didn’t ask why my backpack was fully packed, including my toiletries. I rifled through my sketchbooks, and when I looked up, Doc was watching me in the rearview.

“I left one,” I whispered, and I saw his eyes close briefly. “It was on the bed.”

“I’ll let him know.” He had the phone at his ear, and I heard a man’s voice answer, too low for me to identify. “One’s behind. She says it’s on the bed.” He paused. “ Yes , we checked the bed, but if we missed it, we missed it.” Another pause. “I understand.” He hung up and dropped the phone beside him, turning to look at me. “You okay?”

“Not at all.”

That made him smile. “Yeah, I get that.” His next look was assessing.

“It had a new sketch of Caleb,” I told him before he asked. “It was generic. Just Caleb in jeans, boots, a shirt, and a jacket.”

“Dressed?” Doc asked me, and my cheeks flared with heat. Did he know that I spent far too long admiring Caleb’s abs?

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Why?”

“Where was he?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t work like that. I don’t know.”

“Forest, mountain, town?”

I thought about my sketch before bed. “Trees…thinner than usual. Not as dense.”

Doc cursed and picked up the phone again. “He’s on the move,” he told the person who answered. “She left a sketchbook. The most recent drawing is of Caleb, fully dressed.” He listened to the person, nodding along. “Sure.” He reached behind him, the phone in his hand. “Cannon needs to ask a few questions.”

Taking the phone with trembling fingers, I put it to my ear. “Hello?”

“How are you holding up?” His voice was low and steady. It soothed me instantly.

“Freaking out?” I admitted .

“I bet. You’re unharmed though?”

“We left Ned behind!” I blurted in panic.

“He’ll be fine. Worry about yourself, Willow.” Such a simple request that wouldn’t be that simple to carry out. “The sketchbook?”

“Not much in it. It’s smaller, maybe A5 in size. It was a quick sketch. We’d been talking about Caleb, and he must have been in my mind. It says nothing,” I added defensively. “It’s very generic.”

“It’s a sketch of a man you shouldn’t know,” Cannon reminded me gruffly. “I’ve sent Ned back to see if they found it. Hopefully, the way you got out confused them.”

My stomach roiled with anxiety. “ Them ?”

I heard his slight hesitation, and then he spoke with the same authority I was used to from him. “Yes, them. I’m sure you were aware there was more than one of them. It looks like we’re dealing with a pack.” Cannon let that sink in. “You’re on their radar, and I think it’s safe to say that it’s no longer an accident.”

The heavy realization of his words weighed on me, making me feel so much smaller than I was. Weaker. Hearing it said made all my attempts at denial futile. “Is it the same pack that trashed my store and my home?”

“Likely.”

Breathing was difficult. My breath was too shallow. “Right. Likely,” I repeated stupidly.

“She’s having a panic attack,” Doc said, sounding very far away. I felt a shudder, and when a cool hand rested against my forehead, I jolted with surprise. “Okay, Willow, it’s just me,” Doc said soothingly. I was being maneuvered, and the fresh night air made me take a deep breath. “Head between your legs, girlie.” His hand was on my head, gently pushing me down. “Just keep breathing steadily until the world stops moving, okay?”

I nodded, because he was right. The world was spinning. But I also knew we didn’t have time for me to be freaking out. I felt him move away from me, his voice low as he spoke to Cannon. When he came back, I was sitting straight, my knees drawn to my chest.

“Seat belt on?” Doc asked, getting back in the truck.

“Yes.”

“We’ve got a few miles to go until the next stop. Will you manage?”

“I’m literally in the back of a truck,” I said, hating how emotionless my voice sounded. “What can I not manage about that?”

“You’d be surprised.” The roar of the truck starting cut off my reply.

We didn’t speak. The only sound was the truck as it drove along the quiet road. The night outside was a seemingly black void, broken only by the truck’s headlights as it cut its way through the darkness. Staring out of the window, I hated the eerie silence.

It was too quiet. Too still.

A deafening thud caused the truck to jerk violently, just as the truck was lit up with lights from the vehicle behind us that seemed to come from nowhere. Twisting in my seat, I saw the black shadow of a truck behind us, dropping back and then speeding up to ram us again.

“Doc!” I screamed just as the truck hit us again, and I heard the screech of metal as they drove into us, pushing us along, suddenly dropping back. I heard Doc yell, and then I heard the hiss all around us as the truck’s tyres blew, and then we were spinning in circles. My body slammed into the door, my seat belt constricting my movement as my hands clutched at the empty air.

“Hold on!” Doc shouted above the noise, and I knew he was fighting to control the vehicle, but between the impact of the hit and the tyres blowing, I knew he was as useless as I was in the back seat. The truck hit something hard, making us lurch off the road, and then the windows exploded, glass raining all around as the world flipped.

My head banged against the roof as we rolled, gravity pulling at everything all at once. My screams were lost in the mix of metal crunching as we tumbled down a ravine.

As suddenly as it started, the truck came to a sudden staggering stop. My body tried to jerk forward, but the seat belt held tightly on, and I felt it burn against my neck from the force of the jolt.

My hair hung around me, my body felt broken, and I felt a wetness running down my face, knowing it was blood as it dripped onto the roof.

I was upside down. There was nothing to be heard except my own strangled breathing, and I was being strangled by the seat belt that had saved me from being thrown from the truck.

“Doc?” I didn’t recognize the hoarse whisper that came from me. Dizziness swamped me. “Doc?”

Silence answered.