Chapter 81 A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Chapter 81 A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing
Anna’s POV

One week.
That was all it had taken for the hospital smell to fade from Marcus’s clothes, for the machines and whispered conversations to turn into a memory instead of a constant fear humming under my skin. One week since I’d watched him sleep in that bed, pale and stubborn, even unconscious. One week since his father had walked out of that room, he changed in a way I still didn’t fully trust—but hoped was real.
Marcus was home now. On crutches. Irritatingly cheerful about it.
“You don’t need to hover,” he’d told me that morning, a lopsided grin on his face as he adjusted the brace on his knee. “I’m not made of glass.”
“You say that,” I replied, hands on my hips, “but last time you said you were fine, you passed out on a gym floor.”
Courtney, perched on the edge of the couch, snorted. “She has a point, McKay.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “Et tu, Court?”

Still, he’d insisted—practically pushed me out the door—that I go dress shopping. Spring formal was coming up fast, and between hospital visits and late-night studying, it had somehow snuck up on us.
“Go,” he’d said gently, squeezing my hand. “I want to see you excited about something again.”
So here we were. Courtney and I, standing in my hallway with our bags slung over our shoulders, shoes on, keys in hand, ready for a day of normalcy. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed.
I reached for the door. I swung it open and stood there, confused.
Liam stood there, arm raised mid-air, frozen in the act of knocking. We all stared at each other.
“Oh,” Courtney said flatly. “It’s you.”
Liam blinked, clearly thrown off. “Good morning to you too.”
I frowned. “Liam? What are you doing here?”
He straightened, dropping his arm and flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Damian and Marcus asked me to stop by. I’m supposed to keep you two company while they head to an appointment.”

I glanced at Courtney. Courtney glanced at me.
“Appointment?” I echoed.
“Physical therapy assessment,” Liam said quickly. “Damian’s driving Marcus. Peter couldn’t make it.”
That immediately set off something in my chest. Peter couldn’t make it was practically unheard of. Especially now.
“And they sent you?” Courtney asked, arms crossing.
Liam laughed awkwardly. “Wow. I feel the love.”
“Sorry,” Courtney said, not sounding sorry at all. “Just… curious.”
“Look,” Liam said, holding up his hands. “They asked. I said yes. I’m just here to help.”
I hesitated, my fingers tightening around my bag strap. “Marcus didn’t mention it.”
“He didn’t want to distract you,” Liam said. “Said you’d already been worrying enough.”
That sounded like Marcus. Annoyingly thoughtful. Still, the unease didn’t leave.
Liam stepped forward suddenly, clapping his hands together. “Come on. You said you were heading to the mall, right? Let’s not be late.”

Before either of us could respond, he gently—but firmly—took Courtney by one arm and me by the other, guiding us down the steps and toward his car parked at the curb.
“Liam—” I started.
“It’s fine,” he said quickly. “Really. I’ve got you.”
Courtney shot me a look over his shoulder. Do you feel this too? I gave the smallest nod.
He opened the doors, ushered us inside, then shut them with a decisive click before circling around to the driver’s seat. The sound felt louder than it should’ve. As the car pulled away from the curb, I watched my house disappear in the side mirror, an odd chill settling over me.

At first, everything seemed… normal enough.
Liam kept both hands on the wheel, posture stiff. Too stiff. His jaw was tight, lips pressed together like he was concentrating harder than necessary just to drive straight.
“You okay?” I asked lightly. “You seem… tense.”
He glanced at me, then back at the road. “Just tired.”
Courtney raised an eyebrow. “You? Tired? That’s new.”
He didn’t smile. Silence stretched, uncomfortable and thick. The radio stayed off. No music. No casual chatter. Just the hum of the engine and the rhythmic click of the turn signal. My phone buzzed in my bag.
Before I could reach for it, Liam’s phone lit up in the console between us, vibrating insistently. He glanced down at it. Didn’t answer.
The vibration stopped. A moment later, it rang again.

Courtney leaned forward slightly. “You gonna get that?”
Liam shook his head. “Not important.”
I swallowed. “It might be.”
He shot me a look sharp enough to make me flinch. Then, as if realizing himself, he softened his expression. “Sorry. It’s just… now’s not a good time.”
That was strike one. We drove on. I tried to convince myself I was imagining things. That I was on edge because of the week we’d just had. Trauma had a way of sharpening instincts until everything felt dangerous. But then Liam missed the turn.
“Uh,” Courtney said slowly. “You just passed the mall.”
“I know,” he replied.
My heart skipped. “Liam.”
“There’s traffic,” he said. “I’m taking a shortcut.”
Courtney leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. “That’s not a shortcut.”
Liam’s grip tightened on the wheel. “Trust me.”
The road narrowed, storefronts giving way to quieter streets, then residential blocks that grew increasingly unfamiliar. Trees lined the sidewalks, bare branches stretching overhead like grasping fingers. My phone buzzed again. This time, I pulled it out.
Marcus:
Did you leave yet?
Relief flooded me. I typed quickly.
Yeah. Liam picked us up.

The message sent. Then failed. No service. My stomach dropped.
“Courtney,” I whispered.
She leaned closer. “What?”
“No signal,” I murmured. “Do you have bars?”
She checked her phone. Her face tightened. “Nothing.”
The car slowed at a stop sign. Liam tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, restless.
“Liam,” I said carefully, forcing calm into my voice. “Where exactly are we going?”
He didn’t answer right away. The road stretched ahead, empty.
“Liam,” Courtney repeated, sharper now.
He finally spoke. “I just need to make a quick stop.”
My pulse thundered in my ears. “This doesn’t feel like a quick stop.”
He exhaled, long and shaky. “I didn’t want to do this.”
Courtney’s head snapped up. “Do what?”
His phone rang again, louder this time, echoing in the confined space. He ignored it. That was strike three.
“Pull over,” I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it. “Right now.”
He didn’t. Instead, he pressed the gas.

The car surged forward.
“Liam!” Courtney shouted. “Stop the car!”
“I can’t,” he said, panic bleeding into his voice now. “You don’t understand.”
My hands clenched into fists. “Then explain.”
He swallowed hard. “I just—someone asked me to help. I thought it would be simple. Just keep you busy. That’s all.”
“Who?” I demanded.
The car turned onto a road completely devoid of houses now, trees closing in on both sides. Liam’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Peter Ramsey.”
The name hit like ice water.
Courtney sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was,” Liam said hoarsely.
Fear wrapped around my spine, cold and tight.
“You need to turn around,” I said. “Now.”
His hands shook on the wheel. “I don’t know if I can.”
The road stretched endlessly ahead.
And for the first time since Marcus collapsed on that gym floor, I felt truly, terrifyingly helpless.