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Lying belly flat on top of the cold metal car, I gripped the edge just above where my uncle sat, the door still open. Roma propelled us into the night, driving like the mad woman she was. My uncle held onto the door handle to keep it from shutting onto my hand. Part of me was terrified as I stared into the darkness rushing past me, tears stinging my eyes from the sharp wind, but another part of me, my wolfie side, loved the thrill.

Once we were a safe distance away, Roma slowed to a stop. I slid off the side and into the backseat, grinning big.

Roma glared at me. “Was that necessary?”

I stared at her blank faced. “What? Jumping on the roof?”

She pulled back onto the road, eyeing the rearview mirror. “You had time to get into the back seat.”

“Oh, come one. Everyone loves a dramatic exit.” I grinned and leaned back in my seat, spreading my legs out.

“Listen to this wise woman,” my uncle breathed to me, then winced in pain.

“The name’s Roma,” she said to him. “And you look like shit.”

“I hear that a lot.” He attempted a smile and rested his head against the window.

"Thanks again for coming to get me,” I said, sitting up and turning to look behind me to make sure we weren’t being followed. “And can you head toward downtown Rouen?”

She glanced at me in the mirror. “Do I want to know what happened?”

“Do you?”

She huffed and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. I stuffed my hands into my jacket pocket, and we settled into an awkward silence.

I stared at the back of my uncle’s head, silver streaking what used to be all black hair. His shoulders were slumped, further than most people’s. Life had beaten him down. Maybe he’d be as relieved to see me as I was him. Someone else to share our burdens with.

Roma glanced at me a few times in the rearview mirror, her expression unreadable. I was surprised by her demeanor. Before, she'd been super friendly and talkative, but now, she didn't seem to want to have anything to do with my guest. I respected that and didn't force the issue. I had no idea who my uncle had become, or how he treated people. Who knew what kind of reputation he had.

Once we reached the city, my uncle gave Roma an address. She nodded again and took off in that direction. After another ten minutes of driving, she parked the car next to a warehouse that looked like it was abandoned. In fact, the whole area looked dead.

Perfect. No one would see us.

It was still early, but a line of orange fire had touched the horizon. Seeing the sun rise next to my resurrected uncle made a warm glowy feeling worm its way into my chest. It was uncomfortable. I didn’t like how vulnerable it made me feel.

"Thank you.” I paid Roma with some of my tip money. She took it, then touched my hand. “Just consider me your good luck charm, Briar. Call me whenever you need something.”

I thought that was kind of a weird thing to say, but it was true that I’d been pretty lucky tonight. And she’d stuck around. If I believed in that crap, I’d say she had a point.

She shot me a look, concern evident in her eyes. I gave her my own reassuring glance.

We exited the car, and I watched as she drove away. Maybe I'd make her a batch of cookies or something.

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t bake. Maybe I’d give her some beer. I could do that. It was lame, but I was okay with that.

"It's over here.” Vincent turned down a narrow alley between two warehouses, walking on his own but limping. When he reached the side door, he punched a number into a keypad. It beeped and the door opened. He glanced back at me. "I've never shown anyone this location. I don't know you, but you did save my life so I figure I can trust you."

Hmph. If he only knew the truth about my real reason for being in Rouen. I didn't say anything as he opened the door to let me by.

The room was smaller than I expected. It had worn gray carpet with several dark stains. A single bare mattress was pressed against the wall next to a circular table. Several old papers were scattered over the top.

I turned around. "You want to tell me why the Silver Claws nearly killed you last night?"

He shrugged one shoulder and slowly lowered onto the bed, hissing through his teeth at the motion. "I'm good at pissing off the pack."

I resisted the urge to smile. Pissing off people must run in our blood. "What did you do?"

"I tried to have Dominic killed. Well, not really. I was just caught discussing it. The guy is destroying the Silver Claws. Everyone knows it, but no one can do anything about it with those damned witches around all the time."

“Why don’t you just leave?” I walked to the table and scanned the papers on its top. There were several receipts and a bunch of spreadsheets with rows and rows of numbers. When he didn't answer, I looked up and groaned. "Don't tell me you still have loyalty toward the pack that just tried to kill you."

“I belong to them. I think I can smooth things over."

I laughed out loud. "You want to go back?”

"I want to return to the pack, not Dominic. It was great once, and I want to get it to that place again."

“Why would they ever take you back?"

"Because I'm the guy with the money."

"You're rich?" From what I remember of him, he never had much money. He had owned a construction crew, but there wasn't much building going on at the time. He’d often borrowed money from my father.

He cocked his head to the side and studied me. "What is it about you? Are you sure we've never met?"

That’s my cue to leave. Until I knew more about him, I couldn’t tell him my true identity. "I don't think so. Unless you were at Sinsual the last two nights. I'm their new bartender. Speaking of which, I might have to work tonight, so I better get going."

He rose from the bed quickly. "Thank you again for saving me. I owe you one."

I attempted to swallow a growing lump in my throat, but it was rock solid. Every part of me wanted to tell him the truth, but I imagined a sock in my throat instead. At least until I got to know him better.

“It was nothing.” I walked to the door and opened it. “Maybe I'll see you around."

"We'll meet again, Briar.”

Glancing back at him, I smiled. "Dramatic. Just how I like it."

I stepped outside into the early morning light, feeling the sun’s rays kiss my face. I tilted my face upward to greet it and inhaled a hitched breath.

I wasn't alone anymore.

It took me nearly two hours to walk home. I was exhausted, and I had a blister forming on my heel. That and being tied to a stupid tree all night made me want to collapse into bed and knock myself unconscious. I’d hoped to sneak inside the house unnoticed, but Lynx was sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee warming her hands.

She gasped when I walked in. "What happened to you? Are you okay?" She jumped to her feet and hurried over to me.

I swatted her hand away. "I'm fine, mom."

"No, you’re not. You look like—what is that smell?"

"I guess the river bath didn’t work,” I mumbled, then sighed. “I rolled around in horse manure is all."

"You’re kidding?"

"I wish I were."

"But why?"

I brushed hair away from my face. "You'll find the more you get to know me, those kinds of experiences happen more often than you would expect."

"What about those wounds on your wrist? Is that a normal occurrence for you, too?"

For the first time, I noticed the angry marks. I knew they had been tight, but geez! Parts of my flesh had literally been torn off. I don’t remember them being this bad in the car. It’s like the wound was getting worse. It also hurt like a screaming banshee now that I was staring at them.

"Come here.” Lynx motioned me toward the sink.

I stared dumbly at my hands. I was normally a quick healer so what the hell was going on?

She sighed impatiently, so I did as she asked.

Lynx turned on the water and waited for it to warm. "Stick your hands under this while I go grab some bandages.” She hesitated, and her eyes met mine. “Actually, you already know I'm a witch so do you mind? I can heal this pretty quickly."

That's when I remembered how magic had kept me bound to the tree. No wonder I wasn't healing. Man, how could I forget that? I must really be tired.

"That would be awesome, if it isn’t too much of a bother."

"Not at all. What are friends for?" She smiled at me and grabbed a towel to dry my wrists. She patted them gently.

“You’re more talkative today,” I mused. “What changed?”

“I just needed a little time

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