Chapter 317 317
Sabine POV
I don’t hesitate.
I tear the parcel open with one hand while reaching into my backpack with the other for my water bottle. Her eyes never leave me as I tip not two but four tablets into my palm.
“That’s a lot…”
“I’m fine. I know what I’m doing,” I mutter, dry and sharp, before swallowing all four small green pills in one go. These ones are different. Weaker than before.
Still, they work instantly.
Relief blooms through me as the tightness in my muscles begins to melt away, the constant inner voice retreating once more slipping back into the abyss where I prefer to keep it. Quiet. Contained. Gone.
I draw in a deep breath, roll my neck until it cracks softly, and lift my gaze back to the woman standing in front of me.
She takes a long drag of her cigarette and deliberately exhales the smoke straight into my face.
She’s never been warm. Not once.
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” she says coolly. “How have you been?”
“Yes. Yes. All fine. I can’t stay.” She sounds distracted different. Usually it’s me trying to escape first, not the other way around.
“Oh… right.” I finally look down into the parcel now that my thoughts have settled enough to focus. “This isn’t enough.”
“That’s all I could manage this time,” she replies, unapologetic. “They’re getting harder to source. It’s not like you can pick them up at the local shop anymore. But I’ll see what I can do for next time.”
She flicks the cigarette butt to the ground. The farmer in me bristles at the careless littering, at the disrespect for the land but I bite it back.
Then she clicks her fingers at me.
Just like that.
I clamp my jaw shut, swallowing the words I want to throw at her, and instead toss her the money sealed inside a small white envelope. My hard-earned cash disappears into her manicured hands.
I doubt she’s ever worked a hard day in her life.
She’s always been privileged. High-maintenance. Entitled. A bitch, if I’m honest. But right now, she’s necessary. She’s my only thread connecting me to the outside world.
“Are you staying nearby?” she asks casually, her gaze sweeping over the lush green landscape before dropping back to counting the money.
Every time we meet, she tries to pry. To pin me down. To locate me.
But I’m not stupid anymore.
I’ve walked miles to be here and I’ve got miles to walk back before dinner. The pain slowed me down earlier, which means I’ll be cutting it dangerously close before the others return from town.
“Here.” She tosses a sleek box at me. I catch it automatically. “Take this phone. Signal’s patchy out here it’ll be easier to get hold of you.”
A brand-new, top-of-the-range mobile.
A tracking device.
“That’s great,” I say, smiling sweetly, masking everything. “I actually need a new phone. Thank you.”
With that phone, she could trace every step I take.
I’ll deal with it later. I’ll make up an excuse next time.
I wait until her car roars out of the car park, dust and loose stones spraying behind it. The moment she disappears from view, I walk to the nearest hedge and drop the phone box straight into it.
Gone.
I secure the tablets at the bottom of my backpack, double-checking they won’t shift, then climb back over the fence and head in the direction I came from.
A couple of hours later, my stomach growls in protest and my legs ache from the uneven ground but I know I’m close now. One mile. Maybe two.
I’m deep within the woodland, far from any main road, when I hear it.
A sound that makes my blood still.
An animal in pain.
Farmers often set traps around these woods to deter predators from killing livestock. It’s cruel, but so is waking up to slaughtered animals.
Following the noise, I come upon a man kneeling on the ground. His hands are tangled in his hair, his posture tight with distress. I step closer, ready to help
And recognition hits me like a punch.
It’s Didier.
“What is he doing out here…?” I murmur, confusion flooding me. He was supposed to be in town.
As I close the distance, a gasp slips from my lips.
Beneath him lies a creature large, whimpering, gnawing desperately at a metal trap clamped around its ankle.
“Didier?” I call, breaking into a run.
The animal is bigger than any dog I’ve ever seen. Its fur is grey, almost blue-toned. Blood mats its leg. Its snout is long. Its teeth sharp. Its eyes scream pain.
I’ve seen animals like this before.
“Bee… what are you doing here?” Didier asks, glancing behind me, clearly startled to see me alone in the woods.
I might ask him the same thing.
“I—I found this dog,” he says, voice tight. “It’s hurt.”
I look down again.
And I know.
“That’s not a dog,” I say quietly.
My heart pounds as the truth settles into place.
“That’s a wolf.”