Chapter 13 The Rude Driver
The bus rolled to a slow, groaning stop at the edge of a quiet, misty town surrounded by jagged mountains. For two days, Fred and I had been sitting side by side, half-asleep, half-paranoid, the hum of the wheels beneath us becoming a strange comfort. The air that drifted in through the cracked window was different here; it was colder, cleaner, thinner, like the world had taken a deep breath and was holding it. I clutched my worn backpack against my chest and looked out the window, my reflection pale and tired against the glass.
“End of the line,” the driver called out in a gruff voice. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, landing on me for a beat too long. My stomach tensed. He didn’t know what I was, but I’d learned that people didn’t need to know the truth to sense something was wrong with me.
Fred nudged my shoulder gently. “Come on,” he said softly, his voice low and warm, the same tone he used when we sneak off our shifts at his dar’e pub. His eyes, steady, kind, met mine for a moment, and I nodded, letting him lead the way down the narrow aisle.
The cold bit at my skin the second we stepped off the bus. The town was small, quiet, and half-asleep. Wooden signs swung in the wind, their paint faded and edges frayed by time. A faint fog curled over the cobblestone streets, softening the outlines of the distant houses. Somewhere, a dog barked. Somewhere else, someone slammed a door. But overall, it felt like a ghost town resting beneath the shadow of the mountains.
Fred stretched, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. “This is it,” he said, smiling faintly.
“This?” I asked, arching a brow. “The middle of nowhere?”
“That’s the point,” he replied. “No one comes here unless they mean to. My dad used to say this town’s a good place to disappear.”
Disappear. The word lingered, heavy and bittersweet. It was what I wanted… wasn’t it?
I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets. “So where exactly are we going?”
He started walking down the main street, his boots crunching softly against the gravel. “There’s someone here my dad knew. Part of a network, people who help those who can’t exactly walk into a police station asking for protection.”
I frowned. “And your dad just… told you about them?”
Fred’s expression softened. “He trusted them. He said they helped him once, back before I was born. I don’t know all the details, but… if there’s anyone who can keep us off the radar, it’s them.”
We walked for a while in silence. My steps were light, barely making a sound, while his echoed beside me, grounding. The contrast between us was sharp as ever. Even now, with the masking serum that dulled my scent wearing off and managed to hide what I was for the few days we've been on the move, I could still feel the beast under my skin, the pulse of two warring halves that would never truly rest.
I caught Fred sneaking a glance at me as we passed an old bakery. “You okay?” he asked.
I hesitated. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe me. I could tell by the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes lingered on my face like he wanted to ask more but knew I wouldn’t answer.
When we reached the end of the street, an old man leaned against a weathered taxi parked beneath a streetlight. The car was ancient, one of those beaten-up sedans that looked like it had survived a hundred winters and just barely made it out alive. Fred waved at him.
“Hey, can we get a ride up to the north side?” Fred asked. “We’re looking for a place, uh, it’s supposed to be past the ridge.”
The driver squinted at us, his nose twitching slightly. My stomach sank. That movement, I knew it too well. It wasn’t human.
His eyes snapped to me, sharp and full of disdain. “I don’t service her kind,” he said flatly.
Fred blinked. “Her kind?”
The man’s lip curled, and a faint growl rumbled in his throat, barely audible, but unmistakable to my ears. “You think I can’t smell it? She’s a hybrid.”
Fred’s hand tightened around my arm instinctively, like he was shielding me. “You’re mistaken,” he said, voice steady but tense. “She’s just tired. Been on the road too long.”
The driver spat onto the ground. “I’ve been around long enough to know the scent of hybrids when I smell it. You can fool humans, girl, but not me.”
My heart hammered. The serum was wearing off or had worn off completely.
I forced my tone to be calm. “I don’t want trouble,” I said softly.
The man huffed. “Then stay out of my car.”
Fred stepped forward, his expression hardening. “Listen, we’ve had a long trip. We just need a ride. We’ll pay double. There is no need for you to be a jerk”
The driver looked him up and down, then scowled. “Triple. And if she bleeds or shifts or whatever it is your half-breed girlfriend does, she’s walking.”
My breath caught at the word half-breed. It was the truth and I've grown up my whole life hearing other wolves call me that, but hearing it still stung.
Fred shot me a quick look, silently asking if I was okay. I nodded once. We climbed into the back seat, the cracked leather creaking beneath us. The driver muttered something under his breath, something about “unnatural creatures” and “ruined bloodlines,” but I didn’t respond. I was too busy watching the town disappear behind us through the fogged-up window.
The road twisted through the mountains, narrow and treacherous. Pines loomed on either side, their shadows stretching long and dark against the road. The air grew colder the higher we climbed. The sun finally set, and I could see the moon begin peeking between the clouds, bright and white and accusing.
“You didn’t have to argue with him,” I murmured after a while.
Fred turned to me, his jaw still tight. “I wasn’t going to let him talk to you like that.”
“I’ve heard worse.”
“Still.” He looked away. “Doesn’t make it right.”
The taxi rattled as it climbed a steep hill, the headlights cutting a pale path through the mist. I leaned my head back against the seat, exhaustion sinking in deep. Every muscle in my body ached. Every nerve hummed with the constant tension of running, hiding, pretending.
Fred shifted beside me, his voice quiet but steady. “You never told me who you’re running from.”
I opened my eyes and met his gaze. The concern there was real, too real. I couldn’t lie to him, not completely, but I couldn’t tell him the truth either. If I said Darius’s name, if I said it was the alpha king, it would only drag Fred into a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.
“I told you,” I said softly. “Someone dangerous. Someone who won’t stop until they find me.”
He nodded slowly, then reached out, his fingers brushing mine. “Then I won’t let them.”
The simple promise hit me harder than it should have. I turned my hand over, letting his fingers intertwine with mine. His warmth was human and fragile, and it terrified me how much I needed it.
I glanced back at the winding road. The mist was thicker now, crawling between the trees like smoke. Somewhere out there, far but closing in, Darius’s wolves would be hunting me.
And no matter how far I ran, I knew the bond between us would tug, faint but unrelenting, leading him closer.
I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. For now, there was only Fred, the mountains, and the fragile illusion of safety.