CHAPTER FOUR
Hours later, Dayne is pulling off a winding mountain road surrounded by tall trees that stretch up into the sky. Although it's the middle of the day, in the deep forests of rural Colorado you wouldn't think it is. It's almost dark because of how densely populated the trees are.
Since my one failed attempt to convince Dayne to stop at Walmart for clothes, I've stayed silent and he has too. He comes to a stop at a gas station in a small town that appears to be made up of little more than a grocery store, a small diner, a hairdresser, and a mechanic/gas station.
Other than two men wearing blue aprons unloading boxes from the back of a white van into the grocery store, there's not a soul on the street, though the trucks parked up outside the diner convince me there is some life to be had here. Even if I can't see it.
Switching the radio off, he doesn't get out as I expect him to.
"This is Hardin," he says into the silence. "The closest town to us."
Although, I tense up at the first words he's spoken in hours, I don't turn to face him. I'm too busy staring out at the tiny town. And when I say town, I mean a road and four buildings. Literally, a one stop sign town.
"So, as I said. No under-the-table jobs around here." And with that, he pushes his door open, steps out, and slams the door shut behind him, making the car rock.
As if I've forgotten what he said to me. As if I've been able to think of anything else in the hours since I learned I would be just as reliant on him as I was my uncle.
Only once I'm sure he's moved away and I can smell gas, do I turn to look. He's standing beside his truck, filling it with gas, and he's staring right at me as he does it.
Immediately, I jerk my head around.
I don't have to look in a mirror to know I look terrible, since for miles I've been fighting back my tears, and I haven't been wholly successful. Some tears escaped, and since I've never been the type who cries prettily, the last thing I'm ready for is to have anyone see me. So I stare out in the opposite direction of him, waiting for him to finish pumping gas, so we can leave civilization behind and carry on back up the mountain to his pack.
In my misery, it takes me a while to notice that while one of the figures outside the grocery store has gone inside, the other, a dark-haired guy in a blue apron over a white t-shirt and jeans has stopped, and is staring right at me.
Peeking over at Dayne, who's finished filling up to go inside the gas station to pay, I turn back to the guy who seems to have been waiting for that very moment.
Raising his hand, he waves at me before bending to grab one of the boxes piled up outside the glass-fronted store and disappears inside.
He couldn't have been much older than me, but in a split second of seeing him, his bright smile and happy, welcoming wave make me aware that nothing about me is carefree. I didn't even wave back. I just stared back at him… like an idiot.
Minutes later, Dayne is back in the car, and we're on the move again. This time, we're heading further up the mountains, leaving Hardin behind us until we lose sight of it altogether.
Not even an hour passes and we're bumping down a narrow dirt road surrounded by yet more towering trees, and although we don't pass any gate to mark crossing over onto pack land, I get a sense of when we do the second we are.
It was the same back home; I'd always know when I was on pack land and when I wasn't. It's just a feeling, a knowledge that we've crossed some invisible line between the regular human land and this new private world.
I smell them before I see them. The pack, that is.
And then, Dayne is pulling out through the narrow tree-lined road and onto a mostly flat grass clearing where a handful of other cars are parked any old way in front of a three-story white clapboard farmhouse with a wraparound porch.
It's pretty.
Much prettier than I was expecting. Not that I was thinking much of anything back in Dawley other than getting as far away from Uncle as possible.
But, before I catch more than a passing glance at a group of about ten people standing in a huddle that turn toward us, Dayne is pulling up right in front of the house, and after turning the engine off, he leaves the keys in the car and climbs out without a word.
Leaving me with no choice but to follow.
I scramble out the other side, but hesitate, before following Dayne as he strides toward the group. All are staring at me, eyes wide with surprise.
He has a young pack, and presumably just because they live in rural Colorado, it doesn't stop them from looking as trendy and as well-dressed as anyone would from the city. Nothing any of them are wearing comes close to resembling anything from Walmart.
From what I can see, even though I don't know a whole lot about fashion, what they're wearing looks high-end. Expensive. Maybe I don't regret not stopping at Walmart now.
"Pack-Talis. Talis-Pack," Dayne barks out, not pausing his ground-eating strides as he snaps out this introduction. He continues at a pace I don't even attempt to meet, which is a good thing I don't, since he marches right up to one of the assembled party.
A guy with long, lean muscles, dark hair, and amber eyes marks Dayne's approach with a frown creasing his forehead and an anxious look in his eyes that warns of an impending explosion.
Beta.
This guy has to be a beta. Dayne's second in command. He has the look of one.
"Dayne?" he asks, his voice echoing the worry in his expression.
In response, Dayne's hand closes tight around his shoulder. "Luka, I need to see you. Now."
From where I'm standing, I can see the grip has to hurt, but there's no change in Luka's expression. But that's about as much as I see because, all of a sudden, Dayne and Luka are striding up the front steps of the house.
Panic surges as I stand there, watching as they disappear into the house, the door slamming shut behind them. Leaving me out here, alone.
Well, not entirely alone.
Reluctantly, I turn to face the gazes I can already feel, sharp with interest.
The pack, every last one of them is staring at me.
I stare back in silence.
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