Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“No.” Each of them answers.
I hear a door open and the three other prisoners all make hushing sounds. I shut my mouth and heed their warning. Making the crazy man mad isn’t going to be my best plan.
I need to get my brain working on a plan to get us out of here. Because staying trapped here forever as a crazy man’s test subject is not an option.
* * *
Caleb
Everything in my cabin looks wrong.
Feels wrong.
It’s been two days since Miranda left, and it’s impossible to return to my old ways. I’ve changed.
She changed me.
The cabin seems empty without her. And strangely, it no longer feels like a memorial for Jen and Gretchen. Not that their memories have been erased. No, if anything, I feel more honoring of them. More determined to track down their killer and get closure. But I also get that it’s time to start living again.
Holing up here alone, making myself a hermit, doesn’t feel right any more.
I want more.
Need more.
Fuck, I miss Miranda. I miss the hell out of her, actually.
I look at my cell phone, where I stored her number. Of course, I can’t get service from my cabin. But maybe it’s worth driving into town. I can see if Parker called and send Miranda a text.
Or call her.
I need to let her know that I want to pursue something more.
Us.
I want to pursue us. I thought my heart couldn’t hold another person. That loving someone else would be a betrayal to my dead mate.
What I didn’t realize was that my heart had already made room for another. And I let that person drive away without me telling her. I was an idiot, but it might not be too late to fix this.
Some of the heaviness in my chest lightens.
I stand up from the couch, shove my phone in my pocket and head for the door.
And that’s when I hear the whine.
It’s coming from right outside my door and—
I throw open the door and drop to my haunches. “Bear!”
Miranda’s dog sits and barks at me. What is he doing here?
I peer outside, but there’s no sign of Miranda’s Subaru. She didn’t drive back here.
“Come here, boy.” I reach out to pet the dog, but he backs away and barks some more. I scent his blood—not fresh. He’s limping slightly. He doesn’t come in, even though he looks half frozen. No, he’s telling me something.
Oh fuck.
What’s happened to Miranda now?
Except I already know.
I know with the certain dread that makes all my hairs stand on end. I know with the agony of a dagger through the heart.
Please don’t let her be dead.
Please not like Jen.
A cold band squeezes around my chest as I grab my jacket and jog outside. “Where is she, boy? Show me where.”
Bear takes off running and I realize we won’t be going in my truck.
“Hold up, dog.” I whistle and Bear comes back and barks again.
“Thirty seconds,” I tell him, even though he can’t understand me. He’ll get the gist. I dash inside and strip off my clothes, then step outside, pull the door shut and shift.
Bear whines, but takes off again and I lope beside him as we run for miles down the side of the mountain.
When I catch the mutant shifter scent, I want to heave. I growl the whole time we run, a low, angry rumble that keeps me focused. As the scent grows stronger, the fur on my nape stands on end. And then I see it—Miranda’s Subaru down in a ditch, a few hundred yards from the road to Santa Fe.
Fuck.
Bear goes crazy, barking and running around the car.
Shit. He doesn’t know where she is. This must be the last place he saw her. I need to figure this out on my own.
I lift my nose in the air to find her scent. It’s mingled with the mutant bear’s scent, but I catch it. I follow it downhill another mile or so until we get to a cabin.
The place reeks of mutant bear. This has to be the place.
That’s when I hear her scream.
* * *
Miranda
My throat is raw and hoarse from screaming. I’m strapped to the gurney with a madman standing over me. He’s already taken my blood four times using dirty, unsterilized equipment. The fellow prisoners were right—there’s no real science happening here. Just a delusional lunatic who thinks he’s a real scientist. And enjoys inflicting pain. I scream as he shoves the needle under my thumbnail in deeper.
“Shift!” the madman shouts at me, spittle flying from his mouth. “You have bear DNA growing inside you. Use it to shift!”
I scream again.
The other women are huddled in their cages, eyes closed, ears plugged to block out the horror of my torture.
Suddenly the door comes crashing in, rent from its hinges. I hear Bear barking and the snarl of very real bear.