Midnight Wolves

Chapter Fourteen: Midnight

Callie woke with a low groan. And, although part of her was relieved to have woken at all, she could have done without the blinding pain in her head, or the ache in her ribs. She groaned again, the sound weak to her own ears and blinked against the darkness she woke to.

Assessing her injuries, she grimaced as she shifted on the soft surface she was laid on. It was only as she went to move her arms, that she realised one of her wrists was bound – and if the hiss and flash of heat wasn't mistaken, it was a silver cuff that linked her wrist to what felt like a metal bar.

Callie cursed and tried to sit up, stifling a scream as the silver cut into her flesh and her head span until she wanted to vomit. She tentatively probed her temple with her free arm, a small bandage had been applied.

The wolf.

The midnight wolf and her uncle running away.

Her stomach tightened and she swallowed the rising bile.

Where was she?

Callie took a quick, deep breath, stilling at the scent that filled her nostrils. It was him, his cinnamon-fire heat wrapping around her, filling her lungs until she could think of nothing but him. The midnight wolf.

She could hear his heart beat, listening intently as he moved around outside the room. She was in the shack, she realised. In one of the rooms, on a bed judging by the soft sheets beneath her. Chained in a silver cuff to a bed in the home of a predatory wolf who'd just killed a group of aggressive male wolves by himself – with two silver bullets in his chest. Callie swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to ignore her rising panic.

Because that's what those bullets had been made of. She was sure of it. She'd smelt it in the air as the bullet sailed past her into the dirt. Silver. And he'd kept fighting anyway.

His heart beat grew nearer to the door and she froze, allowing her wolf to slip forwards so she could see in the dark. The room was sparse, lived in, judging by the few small personal items littering the sides, but empty. Devoid of life, she wanted to say.

The door handled rattled. She quick laid down and shut her eyes, trying to pretend she was asleep.

The door swung open but he didn't enter. He remained standing in the doorway, his heavy gaze on her. When she didn't move, he shuffled forwards and dropped something on the ground beside her.

"Eat," he barked in a rough tone.

She peaked open an eye, to find him watching her with one eyebrow raised. Glowering at him, she sat up. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, anger biting at her.

He merely blinked at her, watching her in that same quiet way that his wolf had.

"This," she rattled the cuff on her wrist, hissing at the pain, "is ridiculous. Take it off," she demanded, her wolf flashing in her eyes.

His wolf responded and it was like the air was sucked out of the room as his power crashed over her. Fierce and unrelenting.

"Eat," he barked again, ready to turn away and probably lock her back in the room.

And it was then that she noticed the darkened patch on his shirt.

From the low lamp light in the other room she could just make out the glistening spot on his shoulder. The second on his left hand side. His wounds hadn't healed.

"You're injured," she said quietly, her voice tender.

All anger left his frame, his growl stalling until they fell into silence. He stared at her for a moment, maybe two, before pushing off of the doorway and turning away.