Chapter Eighty-Five: Carol's POV

Chapter Eighty-Five: Carol's POV
"I cannot enter your territory," he said with regret. "The Seattle Accord is very specific about boundaries between species. Without explicit invitation from the Alpha himself, vampires cannot enter werewolf clan lands. I don't think Simon Volkov would appreciate me showing up at his doorstep, even if I'm returning his wayward elder."
"Then the border." I said quickly. "Take me to the edge of pack territory. I'll call Samuel, have him meet us there."
Maurice looked at me approvingly.
"That will work." He agreed. Then he moved with that inhuman speed, hoisting Grey's limp body onto his shoulder as if a full-grown werewolf weighed no more than a child.
Blood dripped from Grey's wounds, leaving a trail of dark spots on the rocky ground. I turned away, not daring to look, afraid my stomach would revolt.
Maurice's car was parked very close. He loaded Grey into the back seat, movements surprisingly careful, ensuring the unconscious werewolf wouldn't slide down. Then he turned to me, extending his hand.
I got into the passenger seat, the leather cold, the air mixed with Grey's bloody smell.
Maurice got into the driver's seat, heading toward Volkov territory border.
I should have been watching the route, memorizing landmarks, but I just stared blankly out the window, watching city lights blur into streaks of gold and red on the glass.
"Carol." Maurice suddenly spoke, "You need to call Samuel. We're almost at the border."
Right. Samuel. I fumbled for my phone, my torn palms making the movements clumsy, I had to blink several times before the screen came into focus.
Samuel answered on the second ring, his familiar voice warm with concern, making something in my chest tighten.
"Miss Carol? Is everything alright? You sound—"
"Samuel." I interrupted him, "I need you to meet me at the border of pack territory. The eastern border, near the old lumber mill. Can you do that?"
A pause on the other end.
Samuel had been with the Valodin family long enough to know when not to ask questions. "Of course, Miss Carol. Should I bring anyone else?"
"No," I said hoarsely, "Just you. Please. I'll explain when you get here."
Another pause on the other end, longer this time.
"I'll be there in ten minutes, Carol. Stay safe."
The line went dead. The phone slipped from my hand onto my lap, screen going dark.
"Are you certain you don't want me to stay until your people arrive?" Maurice's voice came from beside me, "Grey is unconscious now, but silver bullets won't hold long."
I shook my head.
"If Simon finds out you came to our territory, even at the border, it'll only make things worse. It's already bad enough."
Maurice's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
The car slowed as we approached the border. The industrial area gradually disappeared, Valodin territory arrived.
Maurice stopped the car at an abandoned turnoff.
"Samuel said ten minutes." I spoke, just to fill the silence.
"Then we wait." Maurice's tone carried some gentleness.
Time passed slowly. Each second stretched out until it felt like hours.
I counted my heartbeats, not letting myself think about Grey's words. Using Simon's face, using that cold voice telling me I should die, that I was worthless, that the world would be better off without me.
I knew it was Grey. I knew those words were all lies, deliberately meant to hurt me. But knowing was one thing, and my heart still hurt.
Especially when those words came from Simon's voice. I still hurt.
Headlights appeared in the distance. Two bright points cutting through the darkness. My whole body tensed, fingers curling into fists, the torn skin on my palms hurting from the pressure.
Samuel, I told myself firmly, forcing air into my lungs in slow breaths.
He would come in his old car to pick up me and Grey, then quietly and efficiently handle this mess as usual.
Samuel never looked at me like I wasn't good enough.
He never called me "that girl" or "burden," never would refer to me that way behind my back.
The car pulled up alongside Maurice's, angled for easy transfer of Grey's unconscious body from one vehicle to the other.
Everything seemed fine, seemed normal, seemed like this night might actually end without any new disasters piling on.
Then the driver's door opened, and it wasn't Samuel who stepped out into the cool evening air.
It was Simon.
My perception completely scrambled, every thought in my head crashing together into white noise and static.
He was supposed to be on the East Coast. Supposed to be dealing with the Andreas family and their weapons pipeline.
Supposed to be anywhere, but not here. Not standing three feet from me, those golden eyes already forming questions, rapidly assessing the scene.
Simon Volkov. The real Simon Volkov.
The person I'd lived with for eight years. The one I learned from, trained under, and at some point developed feelings for.
The man who had kissed me in his study, with a desire both terrifying and addictive, pulled me onto his lap, made me feel things I shouldn't have. He promised to protect me, even when the whole world seemed determined to prove him wrong.
He was here. He was really here, solid and real, looking at me with an intensity that made my chest hurt.
I couldn't hold on anymore. All the fear, pain, and relief I'd been holding back surged up at once.
Tears came before I could stop them, hot and fast, completely beyond my control, streaming down my face.
If I had any self-respect left, this should have embarrassed me.
But I had none left. After tonight, after hearing my deepest fears spoken from the face I trusted most, I had nothing left.
Simon's expression changed instantly. That Alpha authority vanished, he walked to me.
"Carol," he called my name. In his real voice. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
I shook my head, the motion sharp and jerky.
The cuts on my hands would heal, the bruises would fade, even the torn scalp where Grey ripped out hair would grow back.
But the wounds he carved into my heart with Simon's face would take much longer to heal, if they ever fully healed.
Simon's hands lifted, as if to touch me, to check for himself that I was okay.
But before touching me, he stopped.
His fingers hung in the air between us, without my permission, he seemed unable to cross that final distance.
This hesitation, this desperate restraint, his body screaming to pull me close and never let go, made my throat close up.
Behind me, Maurice's car door opened with a soft click that seemed impossibly loud in the tense silence. I could feel Simon's attention shift, though I didn't look back. His golden eyes moved past me, locking onto Maurice emerging from the driver's seat.
The air grew colder.
The two men looked at each other, that hostility needed no supernatural senses to feel, sharp as broken glass.
This was old animosity, the kind rooted in centuries of genetic programming that said wolf and vampire were natural enemies.