Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
And maybe mine, too.
I have to say something. But the words lodge in my throat.
“There… there are rules,” I manage. “This isn’t our problem.”
Scarlet fixes me with a narrowed stare. “Rules don’t apply to a baby.”
Her tiny limbs moving like sapling branches in the wind, her breath quick and fragile. The sheer vulnerability of her scent threads into the space between us. She belongs nowhere and everywhere.
And goddess help me, she looks right in Scarlet’s arms. There’s something uncanny about the resemblance in the matching shade of their hair, the delicate tilt of their eyes, the softness of their mouths. It’s as if fate, or whatever force governs these cruel turns of life, has decided that Scarlet should find her.
Behind us, the forest rustles, alive. I inhale sharply, scenting the air for a friend or foe. Are we being watched? The only wolf scent belongs to the tiny cub in Scarlet’s arms.
No one else is here.
I glance at Scarlet as she brushes the baby’s hair back from her face, her fingers trembling only slightly. Her expression is one I’ll never forget; open and fierce, like she’s already made a promise to this child, whether or not the rest of us will help her keep it.
I should call Nixon. I should let him decide. But out here in the silence, there’s no signal. No voice of reason to anchor me. No one to tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do.
As I observe Scarlet swaying with the baby in her arms, I realize I don’t have a choice.
“We need to bring her somewhere safe. To the yard. Nixon will figure out what to do.”
My chest tightens. Protecting her means angering him. But this baby is human now, and Scarlet won’t leave her.
“Okay.” Her voice is quiet, but it matches mine: resolute and unwavering. “To the yard.”
The baby coos in response, as if agreeing. Heat blooms in my chest.
I reach out to take her, to give Scarlet a chance to steady herself and grab her crutch, but she tightens her hold and shakes her head. She’s not letting go.
So I retrieve the crutch, tuck it beneath her arm, and together we begin the slow, uneven walk back through the trees toward the truck.
This may be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.
Only time will tell.
20
NIXON
I’m in the yard, sweeping up after unpacking the morning delivery, when I catch sight of the truck creeping up the drive. Finn’s behind the wheel, and Scarlet is perched beside him with her wild red hair forming a luminous halo against the washed-out sky.
My heart thuds at the sight of her, relief pouring through me. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I’d been wound until now. Leaving her in bed this morning was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a long time, and being separated from her is a torture I couldn’t have endured for much longer. She’s the fire I’ve been craving, and the missing piece I can no longer do without.
Then a scent hits me, sharp and foreign. A wolf, not of our pack. My shoulders lock, every nerve ending razor-edged with instinct. My wolf surges beneath my skin, furious and territorial. Has someone touched her? Claimed her? Brought her back marked with another pack’s scent like a brand?
The shift claws at me, hot and wild, begging to surface. I shut my eyes, grip my rage by the throat, and force it down into bone. Now is not the time.
The truck stops. Finn climbs out, rounds the vehicle, and opens Scarlet’s door. She swings her legs out slowly, cradling something in her arms. My gaze drops, and the rest of the world vanishes.
A baby.
A tiny naked baby, vulnerable, skin damp and flushed. It’s a little girl with red hair and a Cupid’s bow mouth, so perfect she looks like a cherub in an oil painting.
But it reeks of wolf.
Not our pack.
The animal in me stills.
I step forward as Finn guides Scarlet toward me. She meets my gaze, those green-gold eyes bright with fierce determination. This is not the shaken woman we pulled from the woods days ago. This is my mate. My strong, vibrant, beautiful mate.
Reed steps through the warehouse door behind me, his entire body going taut, senses lashing like whip cords in the direction of that scent. He smells it, too.
Where has this baby come from, and why does it smell like it’s been curled up with a wolf?
Finn straightens. “Let’s go inside. We need to talk.”
Scarlet shifts the baby in her arms. She looks at me like she’s already made a choice and is daring me to have something to say about it.
I step aside, gesturing toward the office. Reed follows, his brow tight, his fists balled, his wolf ready. We move in silence that pulses with questions.
The baby sleeps, belly rising with every tiny inhale.