Voyage of the Silver Treader

| 4 | Different

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The siren stopped blaring ten minutes ago. Jesse stared at the bloody duvet encasing the guard's corpse; his heart hadn't stopped racing since Ross grabbed him, and despite the fact that the murderer was distracted showering the blood and brain matter from his body, all Jesse could do was obediently sit on the edge of the bed and wait.

What the hell was he going to do? He was complicit in Ross' crimes; there was no way to explain all of this to any law enforcement without making himself look guilty. The only thing he could think to do was play along and bolt when the right moment presented itself. Maybe he could escape and hide somewhere, or maybe he just had to wait until the ship docked at DeiganLupus. He could disappear into the city; there was no way Ross would risk chasing him into such a public place, right?

Right?

He didn't know this man well enough to assume that—he didn't know him at all. The only things he did know were that Ross was a wolf walker murderer who also killed and ate humans and was likely going to kill him, too, if he tried to make an attempt to get away.

But the strange part about everything was that something inside Jesse wanted to help Ross. His wolf still urged him to remain, to listen to that criminal, and to do whatever he could to keep him from getting recaptured by the Vârcolac. He didn't understand why, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn't understand why his wolf or instincts insisted upon most things half the time, and he once again found himself questioning why he'd listened to a stupid feeling and followed it out onto the ocean.

The shower water stopped running.

Jesse tensed up and turned his head, staring at the bathroom door. He listened to Ross rustle around in there, and after a few moments, he came out wearing one of the bathrobes. He wasn't covered in blood anymore, and his once-matted, scruffy hair was now tousled and tucked behind his ears, revealing more of his face.

There was a ghastly scar stretching down the left side of Ross' face close to his ear; it cut from the side of his head under his hair, down to his jawline, and spread a few inches onto his neck, missing where the jugular was by a fraction of an inch. It looked like a knife or single talon was responsible—maybe one of the people or wolves he killed fought back.

"We'll give it another hour or two," Ross said as he stepped over the wrapped corpse and walked towards the bed.

Jesse wanted to move away from him when he sat beside him, barely a foot between them, but he didn't dare move an inch. He wasn't sure whether he was too afraid to make sudden movements or if his wolf was urging him to stay—perhaps both. He cautiously turned his head, glancing at the criminal, watching as he used another, smaller towel to dry his dark hair.

He nervously shifted his gaze around the room, hoping that something would happen or that Ross would decide he wasn't safe there. Maybe he should suggest that Ross made a run for it now. No...he wasn't good at convincing people, and he didn't want to say anything that would give this man an excuse to pin him against another wall.

"Why the Grey Moon Ceremony?" Ross suddenly asked.

Jesse scowled down at the floor before glancing at him. "Why do you wanna know? So you can laugh at me again for being a failure?"

"No, so I can understand why a member of such a renowned pack needs to go to a ceremony to find his soulmate. Perhaps, after all this time, the Redwoods are finally falling apart from the inside."

"What do you know about my pack?" he questioned, glaring at him.

"Everything. They've hunted people like me for centuries; knowing your enemy is a very important survival skill," he said as he finished drying his hair.