Wolf Bound

Chapter 11: Little Pig, Little Pig

"Here." Vincent came to an abrupt stop. He closed his eyes and sniffed the air. I followed in pursuit, not sure what we were sniffing for. I guess that was a part of the natural wolf instinct too. It reminded me of our training. He'd said I needed to get familiar with my surroundings wherever I went. Perhaps his advice was more useful than I thought.

"This is where we left off on our search." He dragged himself towards one of the nearest trees, perching against it. "Okay, you got what you wanted. We're here. Now what?"

His fingers were twitching but he hid the subtle movements by crossing his arms. If I looked hard enough, I could see his chest rising and falling unevenly. The tree he rested on did no leisure for the slight hunch in his spine. He looked weak. He wasn't allowing himself to show it though. There was something wrong with him. Maybe that'd explain his lack of talking today.

I frowned. "Um, well . . . I wanted to take a look around."

"The floor is all yours," he said, gesturing around the trees. I nodded.

My arms dropped to my side as I lingered around. This part of the woods was practically naked of any grass; with hardly any patches of it spread across the ground. Compared to the last time I was in the area, most of the trees had been stripped bare of their leaves. Winter was approaching faster than expected.

I clenched my hands into a tight fist, ignoring the trembles along my skin.

This area was doing things to me again. After all, not that much time had passed since the incident. I couldn't let go of the horror in a blink of an eye no matter how okay I felt.

"You said Amaury was handling some alpha business that night, right?" I asked.

"Correct," said Vincent.

"Okay then, he had to come from somewhere, right? Whatever direction he was heading from, led him to me."

"That would be a plausible thought if we hadn't considered that already. Unfortunately for you, the odds don't work in your favor"—Vincent's eyes met mine as he uttered his next sentence—"when we tried to backtrack on his whereabouts, his blood trail was useless. It only trailed through where everything went down between you two."

There was a certain accusation in his choice of words looming over me that he attempted to hold back. It caused the pit of my stomach to roll. "You've got to be fucking shitting me. . . Right, that was where you found us." I scoffed.

"Yeah, anything further and there was no scent to latch onto. Now do you understand why it's been difficult not to suspect you? We haven't exactly been given a solid reason not to"—Vincent tilted his head back, gaping up at the light easing through the clouds—"except for your word. If you really didn't have anything to do with this, I'm not sure who you pissed off. But it seems like they've got a target on your freedom."

"A target on my freedom, huh? More like they're using my odds to their benefit." I sighed out a laugh. "I don't think this has anything to do with me pissing anyone off. It was just their lucky day. All they needed to do next was cover up their tracks because I happened to take the fault."

Vincent studied me from head to toe. His stare was less flaming, more curious. I knew when someone was trying to read me. Rather than studying me like an object, he studied me as though I were a specimen he could no longer predict the intentions of. I guess that made two of us.

"Genesis," he started, then went dead quiet.

"Genesis, what—?" I'd barely had the chance to react as his hand sprang into action. I squeaked and shut my mouth, my eyebrows furrowing at the sudden movement he made.