Finding Wisp Page 17

  My heart skipped a beat in my chest, and I couldn’t help but wonder if one of the things he regretted was letting me go… or taking me in to begin with. But this was neither the place nor the time to worry about such things. “I… okay,” I agreed helplessly. “If you’re sure.”

  Derek nodded. “I am. Now stand back,” he ordered.

  I reluctantly obeyed, watching with wide eyes as with a flick of his thumb, the flame of Derek’s lighter flashed to life. He brought it down to the mattress, holding it carefully over the stuffing until it started smoking.

  Derek quickly pocketed the lighter before approaching me with hurried steps. I yelped in surprise when he picked me up, one arm wrapped around my lower back and one under my knees.

  “What are you-?”

  “We need to move,” he said simply. “The fire will spread quickly.”

  He was right; the entire mattress was ablaze by the time he had stalked over to the glass double doors.

  Not even bothering to check if they were locked, he jammed an elbow through the glass, shattering it like it was nothing. Then, ignoring the sharp shards, he reached through the gaping hole he’d created and twisted open the door.

  And just like that, we were outside. Derek raced across the yard, his hold on me unwavering.

  It was a windy night and the cold breeze stung my eyes. Tightening my arms around his neck, I buried my face into his shoulder, stealthily breathing in the familiar scent of Derek’s manly musk.

  I had missed it grievously. (I had missed him.)

  When we reached the tree line, however, I couldn’t resist taking one last peek at the mansion-like house I’d called home the majority of my life. Smoke was already escaping from the house, leaking into the night sky where it billowed like an angry, gray cloud.

  I felt neither sadness nor satisfaction at the sight. Instead, the only emotion I could bring myself to feel was a kind of relief so profound I felt it in my bones.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The smell of smoke clogged my nose.

  I usually associated the thick, suffocating scent with the worst day of my life. Even the faint smell of cigarette smoke could sometimes cause my chest to tighten, for panic to wrap around my lungs like a goddamn boa constrictor and squeeze.

  But tonight, I inhaled the smell and fucking preened.

  I preened because tonight I had been the one to start the fire. I had been the one to extract justice for my parents, for Wisp.

  Most of all, I preened because (finally) I had her in my arms.

  Wisp.

  Her skin was a sickly sort of pale and she was even lighter than I remembered – her form worryingly small against my chest – but most importantly, she was safe.

  And I was never going to let her go again.

  “I can walk, you know.”

  My entire body tensed at the soft-spoken words. They were the first either of us had spoken since I’d grabbed Wisp and booked it from the house. We’d been hiking through the backwoods for nearly twenty minutes, but if memory served, there was still a half-mile of terrain to navigate before we reached the highway.

  Every muscle in my body rebelled at the thought of putting Wisp down, my hands involuntarily tightening around her. “You don’t have shoes,” I pointed out, hoping that would be the end of it. “And besides, this is easier.”

  For a moment, Wisp was silent, but then… “I want to walk.”

  My first instinct was to pretend like I hadn’t heard her and just keep moving. But I couldn’t. Because I had found her locked in a fucking basement. She’d been trapped down there for only Christ knows how long, chained to the wall like a goddamn animal and barely able to move.

  The visual that assaulted me only caused my rage to fester.

  Regardless, circumstances being what they were, it would have been wrong to ignore her simple request to walk. (And, hell, I’d never been good at denying her things.) So slowing my gait, I hesitantly set Wisp down on her feet.

  My shoulders tensed when almost immediately, she stumbled over an overgrown root. “Oops,” she offered sheepishly, glancing over her shoulder.

  I fought the urge to pull her back into my arms. “Here,” I said, unable to battle said urge down completely, “let me help.” I took her by the elbow, intending to guide her through the roughest part of the terrain.

  But Wisp jerked her arm away before I could even curl my fingers completely around her bicep. “No!” she exclaimed, nearly falling again as she hurriedly put a few feet of space between us. I would’ve had to have been both blind and deaf not to notice the way her eyes widened in fear, the way her heartbeat skyrocketed in distress.

  What her reaction told me was that someone had grabbed her without her permission far too often.

  The image of Felix yanking her around by her arm flashed through my mind, and anger curled in my gut. It was almost enough to make me regret not pulling his arm out of its socket when I’d had the chance.

  But then you wouldn’t have found her, a voice pointed out reasonably.

  It was true. And nothing – not even revenge – was worth that.

  Wisp seemed to realize that the intensity of her reaction was outside the realm of normal, and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. I desperately wanted to assure her that she had nothing to be ashamed of, but I didn’t know how.

  “I-I…” she stuttered, struggling to explain. “It’s just… my arms are sore,” she muttered eventually. “I haven’t been able to stretch them in a while and-”

  “How long?” I interrupted, the question falling from my mouth without thought. It wasn’t a problem I usually suffered from. (Quite the opposite.) But I desperately needed to know.

  Wisp blinked. “How long?” she repeated, a confused wrinkle forming on her brow.

  I grit my teeth. “How long were you in the basement?” I clarified.

  Wisp licked nervously at her lips. Automatically, my eyes followed the movement of her tongue. I tried not to stare at the red gash in the middle of her bottom lip, but I couldn’t not look at it. I longed to split open the skull of whomever had dared to harm her.

  “I… well… does it matter?” she answered eventually.

  I stiffened, staring at Wisp in disbelief. The hands at my sides curled into fists, nails threatening to sharpen into claws and tear through skin. “What do you mean, does it matter?” I demanded, voice gruffer than I’d intended it to be.

  How could she possibly think that it – that she – didn’t matter? (Maybe because you told her so, a snide voice pointed out, but I batted it away.)

  “Of course it matters!” I hollered. “Those… people chained you to the wall like a fucking animal – like you were some disgraced pet! How long did they keep you down there? A day? Two days? A fucking week?”

  I was too furious to notice the way Wisp backed away from me, sinking into herself as I continued to rage.

  “Well?” I demanded.

  She pressed her lips together. “Two weeks,” she admitted softly.

  Two weeks.

  Red leaked into my vision, the urge to rip, tear, kill nearly overcoming me. He rose to the surface, clawing at my insides. He didn’t care that the house was already burning, he wanted out so he could go back there and fucking sink his teeth into human flesh, tear fragile bodies apart until the walls were painted with blood.

  “I’m sorry,” Wisp offered tearfully, a little sniffle escaping her.

  The sad, little noise ground my violent thoughts to a halt. My gaze swiveled over to Wisp, and I finally noticed the tense line of her shoulders, the almost… fearful?... glint in her eyes.

  My stomach twisted.

  For the first time since I’d found her clinging to life on my property a month and a half ago, Wisp was afraid of me.

  My anger faded away until it was a manageable simmer at the bottom of my gut, making plenty of room for the rush of guilt that assaulted me.

  What the hell was wrong with me? Yelling at Wisp – raging at her – like a
ny of this was her fault?

  Shame welled in my chest, doubling when I took a step towards her and she flinched away.

  Swallowing, I approached her more slowly.

  When I reached her, I followed my instincts and dropped down to my knees in front of her. I made myself as small as possible, allowing her the chance to tower over me for a change. Making sure to keep our gazes locked, I said, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  Then, unable to hold myself back any longer, I buried my face into her belly, inhaling the sugary sweet scent that clung to her like it was a drug. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” I added, muttering the words into the stiff fabric of her – my – jacket. “Fuck, Wisp. I’m so sorry.”

  I wanted to cry in relief when I felt her fingers hesitantly card through my hair, her gentle touch a hundred times more soothing than anyone else’s could ever be. It calmed the inner beast – calmed me, and I leaned into the touch, truly relaxing for the first time in weeks.

  Unfortunately, the brief moment of peace was broken by the sharp sound of sirens suddenly piercing the air.

  We both tensed at the noise.

  “Fire engines?” Wisp guessed.

  I nodded against her stomach, where I had yet to move. “We must be closer to the highway than I thought,” I muttered before begrudgingly releasing her and pushing myself to my feet.

  “Come on,” I said, but instead of grabbing her by the elbow, I held out my hand in invitation this time, something inside of me settling when she carefully interlaced her fingers with mine.

  I led her through the terrain, and only a few minutes later, we reached the highway. It was in time to see a red fire truck barreling down the road, and a few minutes later, another.

  Luckily for us, the ditches on either side of Highway 19 were steep and filled with enough overgrown grass that we were able to easily duck down and hide.

  We headed in the opposite direction that the trucks were going, managing to travel about half a mile through the grassy ditch until she began to stumble. She was obviously tired, and the itch to pick her up and cradle her grew stronger with every step she took.

  I was about to suggest she let me carry her again when we finally saw a pair of headlights traveling in the same direction we were headed. The closer they got, the more familiar they looked, and even in the dark, I could recognize the impressive body of the Rolls Royce.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, the paranoid part of me unable to believe that my usually shitty luck would suddenly take a turn for the good.

  Wisp frowned. “What is it?” she asked, a worried lit in her voice as she eyed the approaching vehicle. The vehicle that was going to drive right past us if I didn’t do something.

  “Stay here,” I instructed briskly before releasing her hand and dashing up the grassy ditch.

  “Derek!” Wisp protested, but I didn’t have time to reassure her, so ignoring her cries, I leapt out onto the highway, throwing out my arms and waving them wildly at the rapidly approaching car.

  The Rolls Royce’s tires screeched against the asphalt, and it careened to a halt in front of me.

  Before I could even approach the car, the driver’s side door was wrenched open, and to my relief, it was, in fact, Abram who stepped out. “Are you fucking crazy?” he demanded incredulously, stalking towards me.

  I had no idea if he was talking about running out into the middle of the road or the fire.

  “What the hell were you thinking – fucking lighting the place up?” Well, that answered that question. “I knew before agreeing to this crazy shit that you had anger management issues, but what the hell did you see to…” he abruptly trailed off, his eyes catching sight of something behind me.

  My entire body tensed, and I swiveled around to face… Wisp, breathing heavy from her own hasty sprint onto the road.

  My stomach clenched at the way the car’s headlights accentuated the paleness of her cheeks, the darkness of the blue bruises beneath her eyes. “I told you to stay back,” I admonished lightly.

  “No!” she snapped, and I frowned at the anger-laced panic in her voice. “No,” she repeated. “You… you don’t just get to leave me alone like that! Not after-… I… I just can’t-” She dug the palms of her hands into her eyes in obvious distress.

  And I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet.

  “Hey now,” I said, carefully prying her hands from her face, “Stop that. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think-”

  “Unfortunately, it’s a habit of his.”

  I tensed at the comment, whipping around to glare at Abram, who’d oh-so-thoughtfully chimed in his two cents. He only offered me an unrepentant glance before his eyes settled back on Wisp.

  I tried not to let the natural possessiveness I felt over her rear its ugly head at the way he drank her in. After all, I knew logically that he was probably just scanning her for injuries – the same way I had when I’d first laid eyes on her.

  But did he have to stare so damn intently? And did she have to peer back with such obvious interest shining in her eyes?

  “Wisp,” I bit out tersely, hoping to break her out of whatever spell she’d fallen under, “this is Abram. Abram, Wisp.”

  Abram knew better than to approach her when I was so agitated and merely nodded his greeting from where he stood. “Is that the name you prefer then?” he asked. “I admit, I’ve been curious.”

  I stiffened at the question.

  I hadn’t even thought that she might prefer to be called Sloane. My stomach twisted as I realized I may have unknowingly been making her uncomfortable. Wisp just rolled off my tongue so easily; it felt wrong to call her anything else. But if she wanted to be called Sloane, it went without saying that-

  “Wisp is fine,” she assured Abram softly, and just like that, the tension fled my shoulders. Only to return when she shyly added, “I’m glad you made it out of the house okay.”

  Abram snorted, waving off her concern. “Escaping the fire was easy. I’m just lucky I was able to get out of there before the cops showed up asking questions.” He glanced at the hood of the Rolls Royce, and for the first time, I noticed the sizable dent in the front bumper. “Not that they let me leave, exactly,” he muttered.

  “Which is one of the many reasons we need to go,” I interjected, “now.”

  I once again took Wisp by the hand, leading her to the car… only to stiffen when Abram cut me off mid-stride. He opened the door for Wisp before carefully helping her into the vehicle. I grit my teeth at the sight of his hand on the small of her back, not wanting anyone – not even Abram, especially not Abram – touching her at the moment.

  The tautness of my muscles only intensified when instead of allowing me to immediately follow in after her, the man grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. The first thing I noticed when my eyes met his were that his pupils were magnified to the extent that his eyes were nearly black. “You could have at least let me tie the fuckers down first,” he muttered, clearly referring to the fire. Then, just as abruptly as he’d grabbed me, he released me, calmly ducking into the driver’s seat like he hadn’t said anything at all – let alone expressed his desire for bloodshed.

  Following his lead, I climbed into the car, sliding in beside Wisp and taking comfort in the warmth of her little thigh pressed against mine in the confined space of the back seat.

  Despite the reprieve I found in her body heat, however, the majority of the ride back to the motel was spent in an oppressive silence. Finally out of imminent danger, the weight of things left unsaid hung between Wisp and I like an anvil waiting to drop.

  As usual, when I didn’t know what to say, I said nothing.

  Wisp, for her part, broke the silence once, but it was only to ask Abram a question that had me wrapping my fingers around the door handle of the car in an effort to control my rage, nearly ripping the metal lever off despite my best efforts.

  “Did everyone make it out of the fire okay?” she asked.

 
I wanted to demand to know how she could possibly care, rave that they all deserved to burn for what they’d done to her… but the memory of the way she’d reacted when I’d raised my voice in the woods had me swallowing my tongue.

  Abram, for his part, looked equally perturbed by the question. “Unfortunately,” he deadpanned in answer from the front seat.

  Twenty minutes later – traffic in Seattle wasn’t nearly as bad at night – we were pulling into the parking lot of the motel. Wisp didn’t say a word about the state of the building. Ignoring the cracked siding and peeling shingles on the roof, she merely followed Abram and I inside.

  It was a testament to the state of my mind that I’d completely forgotten about Thane until we opened the door.

  Like he had known she was there before we’d even inserted the key into the lock, Thane was there in the doorway. He leapt at us – at her – and my heart jumped into my throat when he knocked her down on her ass.

  Before I could deliver the harsh reprimand on the tip of my tongue – rebuke Thane for scaring Wisp, hurting her even – the sound of her laughter reached my ears. The sweet, tinkling noise stopped me in my tracks, and the urge to scold Thane faded away into nothing.

  He hadn’t scared Wisp, or hurt her. He’d made her laugh.

  It was a sound I’d missed immensely over the past three weeks.

  “Aren’t you going to get your damn dog off her?” Abram asked gruffly somewhere off to my right, as irritated as I had initially been that the lab had knocked her down.

  “Oh, Thane,” Wisp murmured, running her hands through his fur. (She wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to either of us in the presence of Thane and his overwhelming adoration of her.) “I’ve missed you too, boy.”

  Another giggle escaped her when he tongue-bathed her face.

  “No,” I admitted, but my stomach twisted a minute later when Thane nosed curiously at the pair of cuffs still wrapped around her wrists.

  I needed to get them off of her. Fucking immediately.