Chapter 4

Royal’s POV

"She was under enough sedatives to drop an alpha, so how did she get past the door?" The man with the round belly wiped his forehead, though there wasn't any sweat there. His calm act was falling apart.

The skinnier guard looked at the floor. "She fought it. I don't know how. She stuck the needle into Rita instead and just ran."

I watched Ripley step into the small room. He didn't look at the unconscious woman on the floor. Instead, he picked up a glass syringe. He held it under his nose and took a long, slow breath. Ripley didn't just like drugs. He lived for them. He spent his nights mixing chemicals and his days testing them. He could tell you the exact molecular weight of a toxin just by the scent.

A nasty grin spread across his face. "Our little pet has some fire in her. I think I'll enjoy testing my new batches on a girl with this much spirit."

Robbie took the syringe from him and mimicked the sniff. He let out a low whistle. "Man, that is a heavy dose. She should be flat on her back."

I looked over at Philip, ready to make a comment about our luck, but he was already gone. He had moved toward the heavy wire fence at the edge of the perimeter.

"She can't shift while that stuff is in her blood," Philip called out. He was staring at the jagged metal links. "She won't get far on two legs."

I walked over and saw what he was looking at. Dark red smears coated the wire. She hadn't looked for a gate. She had climbed right over the sharp barbs and steel points, tearing her own skin to pieces just to get away from us. It wasn't just a getaway. It was a desperate crawl for a life she thought she could still have.

Rory stepped up beside us. He had been silent the whole time. He reached out and touched a blood-stained nail with the tip of his finger. He brought the red drop to his nose.

His eyes changed instantly. The light brown tint washed away, replaced by a deep, glowing crimson. The air around him grew heavy and cold. It felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest. He wasn't just tracking her anymore. He was hungry.

"Philip," I said, my voice tight.

Philip didn't look back. He just reached out and gripped Rory's shoulder. His hand was steady and firm, anchoring the vampire before he lost it. "Control yourself. We need to find her first."

Rory didn't argue. He never did when Philip used that tone. He wiped his bloody finger off on the sleeve of Philip's black shirt. It was a silent promise to stay in line for now.

We cleared the fence in one jump. On the other side, the trail was easy to follow. Bright red spots marked the leaves and dirt like a map.

"This feels like the old days," Ripley said. He sounded excited. "The stories about Alphas hunting down rare she-wolves in the woods. Taking what belongs to them."

"That kind of thinking is why there are almost no she-wolves left," I snapped. I looked at Ripley and then at Robbie. "Nobody touches her. We paid a fortune for this girl. Keep your hands off."

They both looked at Philip. He was the one who had pushed for this purchase. He didn't say anything, but his eyes stayed fixed on the trail of blood. Rory stayed right at his heel.

"The scent is getting stronger," Rory whispered. His senses were always sharper when blood was involved.

"Let's just get this over with," Robbie said. "We'll catch her and bring her back. No harm done."

We pushed deeper into the thick trees. The forest was dead silent. The only sound was the crunch of our boots on the dry ground. Rory stopped suddenly and pointed toward a thicket of oaks.

"Right there," he said.

"Found her!" Ripley shouted. He started laughing.

I saw a flash of white through the branches. A girl in a dirty, knee-length gown was stumbling through the brush. Her hair was a tangled mess that hid her face. She was swaying, her legs shaking with every step. She looked like she was about to collapse, but she kept forcing herself forward. She was running on pure spite at this point.

We closed the distance in seconds. She didn't even hear us coming. She tripped over a thick root and slammed into the ground. She stayed there, facedown in the dirt, gasping for air.

"Did you really think those legs would carry you away from us?" Robbie asked. He stood over her with a cruel smirk. "We paid a lot of money for you, sweetheart."

Ripley walked around us and dropped to one knee beside her. He grabbed her shoulder and flipped her onto her back. Her skin was covered in mud and scratches. Her hair was matted across her forehead.

"Let's see what we actually bought," Ripley muttered. He reached out and brushed the hair away from her eyes.

The world stopped.

I felt the blood drain from my face. My heart hit the back of my ribs so hard it hurt. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

Her eyes flickered open. She looked up at us, squinting through the pain and the drugs.

It was her.

It was impossible. We had buried this memory years ago. We had convinced ourselves she was a ghost. But here she was, bleeding in the dirt at our feet.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" I whispered, but no one answered.