“Maybe, but how long will Sally suffer before they do?”

“How do we know she’s suffering?” he challenged. “Whoever has her might be treating her like a queen.”

“Right,” Jen scoffed. “Because kidnappers are always so kind to their victims. It’s more likely they’ve ripped her toenails off or locked her in a dungeon with rats. Bastards.”

Sally couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard. Her stomach muscles screamed from the abuse that had been inflicted upon them as Jericho entertained the nightly patrons. He was amazing at his job. He talked easily, flirted without shame, and treated people as though each of them was his top priority. It was truly a thing of beauty.

“How’d you like your first day of work?” Cross asked as she finished wiping down the end of the bar.

“It was a lot more fun than I thought it would be,” she admitted. “Jericho is—”

“Something to behold when he’s on,” Cross finished for her.

She nodded. “He definitely knows what he’s doing.”

“I’ll admit. You’re probably learning from the best bartender in the city. Take notes and one day you’ll be as good as he is. He makes a good living slinging liquor and winking at girls” —he paused— “and guys occasionally too.”

Sally laughed. “He’s shameless.”

“Here.” He held out a wad of cash. “These are your tips for tonight. You did good, kid. Now get on out of here and get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Cross looked behind her and spoke a little louder to be heard over the music that was still coming out of the jukebox. “Mikey, walk Sally home.”

“I don’t—” Sally began but Cross stopped her, holding up his hand.

“You work for me. I take care of what is mine. End of story.” With that he turned back and headed to his office.

I take care of what is mine. Those words latched onto her like a wolf on a deer. They felt familiar somehow. What is mine, danced in her head over and over. A hand touched her elbow causing Sally to jump.

“Sorry, Miss Sally,” Mikey’s deep voice rumbled from beside her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to see if you were ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” She took off her apron and folded it, placing it beneath the counter and then followed Mikey out the door. She called a quick goodbye to Jericho who was busy tallying his cash drawer.

Once they’d stepped outside, the fresh air filled her lungs and helped clear her head. They walked in companionable silence and, once they arrived at the door to her apartment building, she smiled up at her escort. “Thanks, Mikey, I appreciate it.”

“Any time, doll, sleep tight. See you tomorrow.” He waved and then headed back in the direction of the bar.

By the time Sally had taken a quick shower and brushed her teeth, she was ready to crash. Her eyes drooped heavily as she climbed into bed and, though her body was unbelievably tired, her mind was still spinning like a top. The words Cross had spoken to her—I take care of what is mine—rotated over and over in her mind. Sally fell asleep with them gnawing at her gut. She’d heard them before, somewhere, she knew it. But where, and from whom, she couldn’t remember.

Chapter 5

“I want to live. I know that I need to live, not for myself, but for someone else—someone I haven’t met. But I’m lost. I feel so very lost.” ~Jacque

Jacque felt nothing but peace. There was no pain, no anger, and no fear—just peace. But even as she experienced this wonderful feeling of peace, a doubt lingered. Something nagged at her. She knew that she couldn’t stay where she was. She wanted to live. She wanted life in all its messy glory. And she couldn’t live if she stayed in this blissful peace. Jacque wanted to feel pain, because then she’d also feel the joy of healing. She wanted to feel anger, because after she felt the anger, then she would feel forgiveness and mercy. She wanted to feel fear, so that she could appreciate the wonderful feeling of safety. She wasn’t ready to die. Jacque wasn’t afraid of dying, but she was afraid of missing out on all the life she had yet to live.

Jacque could hear chanting—a soft beautiful voice, someone powerful. Jacque could feel herself being pulled along by the magic in the words. She wanted desperately to cling to those words, to let them drag her out of this darkness. She wanted to scream, Here I am. I’m still here and I want to live! But her mouth wouldn’t work. Nothing worked. The only thing she knew to do was to focus all of her consciousness on her life— to remember all that she’d had and all that she was going to have. She wouldn’t give up, not as long as there was still hope that she could return from wherever it was that she was now stranded.

Fane didn’t understand what was happening. He wasn’t dead, but he sure as hell wasn’t alive either. He was angry and scared. His last memories were of his mate covered in blood. Her heart had stopped and his had stopped right along with it. They were one and his wolf couldn’t live without its mate. He remembered there was a baby, their baby, but he hadn’t seen it. And he was sure that Jacque hadn’t seen it either. They’d been ripped away far too soon and he was so very angry.

Fane could still feel his wolf and he decided that this must be a good sign. Perhaps, their lives weren’t over after all. But he didn’t know where he was or how he could escape. Other than the wolf he felt pacing inside of him, he couldn’t see or feel anything else. He reached for the bond in his mind but there was nothing there; he was alone. His wolf wanted to howl, a desperate cry for their mate, but nothing worked. He was just there, wherever there was. Fane thought his fate was worse than death, floating in nothingness with no way to feel his mate or hold his child. He didn’t want to give up hope, but he also didn’t want to stay in some weird stasis state either. Fane would either figure out a way to let go of what little life was tying him to the world or get himself back to the land of the living. Somehow, something was going to change.

Peri felt something change. Jacque’s spark of life, what miniscule amount there was left, had grown a little bit stronger. It felt as though the girl was beginning to fight to get her life back. “That ‘a girl, Red. Don’t go quietly into the night. Not yet,” Peri said quietly as she stared down at the redhead who had become one of her dearest friends. The young girl was thin and her skin was so pale it was nearly white. The usually strong and determined female wolf had been reduced to a living corpse. Surely the Fates didn’t mean to rip the young parents away from their brand-new child. Surely they weren’t that cruel. Peri snorted to herself. “Yes, yes they are that cruel,” she growled.