Chapter 52 52
Venessa’s POV
I jolted awake when the van came to a sudden stop. Confusion swirled through my head, thick and disorienting, but Nyla stirred within me, steadying my senses and pulling me back into focus. The van doors creaked open, and the sight before me made my breath hitch.
A desert.
Darkness stretched endlessly around us, swallowing the land whole. The night told me everything I needed to know this place was far from the Blood Moon Pack. Either they had driven for hours, or they had taken a detour long before bringing me here. I had been abducted late in the morning. There was no way we were anywhere near home.
Rough hands dragged me out of the van. I hit the ground hard, face-first. Sand scraped my skin, bruising my cheek, but I welcomed the sting. At least it would heal.
“Pull her up, Tyreek,” one of my abductors ordered.
The woolly-haired man yanked me upright without mercy.
“Please,” I begged, tears blurring my vision.
They hauled me toward a warehouse looming in the distance. Inside, a young man with dark hair waited. The building itself was old and suffocating, thick with dust and stale air but the man standing there looked nothing like the place. He was clean, expensive, composed. Powerful.
I didn’t know who he was, but everything about him screamed importance.
I was shoved forward and forced to my knees before him. He studied me closely, then frowned.
His eyes were black and cold, his jaw sharp and sculpted handsome in the way that made women weak. Unfortunately for me, beauty meant nothing when it stood on the wrong side of mercy.
I swallowed back the urge to make a smart remark. This wasn’t the time. I needed to live. I needed to return to the Blood Moon Pack and finish what I had been sent to do. I didn’t have the luxury of dying here.
“Please,” I whispered, letting the tears fall freely.
“She looks like us,” the man said.
I lowered my gaze.
My appearance had been a curse since the moment I returned. Why bring me back like this? A werewolf with Lycan features. Fate could have made me blonde, or brunette, with blue or green eyes anything else. It wasn’t as though these people would remember what I looked like before I died.
“Her scent matches what they gave us,” one of the men said. “We didn’t even need to enter the pack. She came to the border. We took her there.”
My stomach twisted. Who was the bastard that had given them my scent?
Tyrell’s name surfaced immediately. He wasn’t around. Which meant he could have arranged this before leaving. In fact, he had the perfect alibi far away from the pack when everything went wrong.
“So Danisha is your mother,” the dark-haired man said.
I shook my head instantly. The truth wouldn’t save me. I knew Lycans could sense lies but I had no choice except to try.
“She said adopted mother,” Tyreek added, glancing at me.
I nodded quickly.
“Then why does she look like a Lycan?” the man asked.
That meant he knew. Or suspected. That my mother had once carried a Lycan child.
He gripped my chin, tilting my face upward, then inhaled deeply.
“She smells like the sweater,” he said.
My heart sank. That had been the item they were given.
He straightened and turned away from me.
“Finish the job so we can go home.”
Panic slammed into me.
This was bad. Very bad.
Talking was my only weapon. Words could buy time. Time meant opportunity escape, survival, something. His impatience meant death.
“Please!” I cried out. “Why are you doing this?”
He turned back to me and smiled.
“There is no place for a half-breed in our world.”
I shook my head fiercely.
For once, the fact that Nyla wasn’t complete worked in my favor.
“I’m not a half-breed,” I said desperately. “I’m a full werewolf. Please let me shift. I’ll show you.”
He frowned.
“You have Lycan features.”
“Please,” I begged. “Just let me show you.”
One of the men stepped forward and pulled out a gun.
Silver.
I knew it instantly.
He was ready to kill me.
How many times was I supposed to die brutally? First, beheading. Now, a silver bullet to the head.
I couldn’t let it end like this. I couldn’t let Nyla and myself be damned. Whoever sent us back wouldn’t do it again but that only mattered if I survived.
“Please, sir,” I sobbed. “I’ll do anything. Anything at all. Just let me prove I’m not a half-breed.”
I meant it.
I had only a few months left anyway. My existence wasn’t meant to last. I was passing through this life for a reason and if sacrifice was the price, I would pay it gladly, as long as Nyla wasn’t condemned with me.
Then the man’s phone rang.
“Hello,” he said.
My mind raced.
“How may I help you, Delta?” he asked.
Delta.
My blood ran cold.
Delta Devon?
Was he part of this too?
The man walked out of the warehouse, clearly not wanting me to hear the rest of the conversation. I hated this fighting an enemy I couldn’t see. Why would Devon do this to me? I had never wronged him.
When the man returned, his expression was troubled. Conflicted.
He nodded once at the man holding the gun.
I panicked.
“I’ll do anything,” I begged. “Please, sir.”
I heard the metallic click as the gun’s safety was released.
I dropped my head to the ground, pressing my forehead into the sand.
“Please don’t waste my life,” I cried. “You have the wrong person.”
My heart thundered violently. My chest tightened as panic overtook me. I began to hyperventilate, sweat dripping down my face, my hands trembling uncontrollably. My vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges
And then everything went black.