Chapter Song: Never Be Like You - Flume (feat. Kai)
XX
Each day, I'm a little shocked to find that I haven't been sold to some NHA pervert and no cops have turned up to drag me to the county jail. I don't think Isaac ever told the cops in the first place, and I think he understood that taking me under his wing was as good as wiping me off the map. The cops don't come here. I keep expecting some kind of investigation to be launched, for feds to pour in, but nothing has happened. Maybe they found Mikey's cabin and understood what was going to happen, or maybe they found out about whoever I was supposed to go to next. The thing is, tracking me down now would mean exposing the entirety of what those trappers were doing. It could get very public. If there are others like me, it's possible that the cops already know about them. It's possible that knowledge of their involvement died with Mikey and Cameron. Maybe to them, my disappearance is a blessing.
It's been a week since Isaac brought me to his house—or rather, compound. The wolves are living in a crudely renovated shell of what used to be a boarding school for Native American kids. The grounds have been abandoned since the early 80's when the school was closed, about the same time that wolves started claiming territory, and no one tried to get the building or surrounding property back. There are a few hundred acres of tended land around the school, but Isaac and his pack have essentially laid claim to several hundred square miles of wilderness and cropland. Theirs is a different kind of territory. It encompasses human towns, residential areas, and even a human school. But there is a careful diplomacy between the wolves and their residents, an uneasy truce that recognizes how Isaac has brought new life to a dying community by bringing a constant stream of revenue in from outside visitors. His territory has no name, and I've never even heard about it before now, but it's the only instance of this kind of collaboration that I've seen.
And Isaac...Isaac is some other kind of wolf than I've known before. He's brutal and ruthless when he spars with his pack, and now that I'm healing he doesn't spare any softer tone for me. But I can sense him keeping an eye out for me, making sure I've eaten enough, watching to ensure the other wolves are friendly and respectful. I was nervous, at first, when I realized that there were no women and children in the pack. It still unnerves me to be around this many men. But I've come to understand them for what they are—outcasts, like me, united together by their shared struggles. They don't see me differently, either, and it hasn't taken long for me to forget the strange gender divide. Sam, especially, has taken great pains to make sure I feel welcome. He's even let me help him in the garden as I've healed, pulling weeds and picking the last of the summer's produce. When he learned that I manage our crops in Rust Cove, he peppered me with questions, and I've promised to help him sketch out next year's planting. It feels, oddly, like home, like sharing an abandoned school complex with a bunch of brothers.
And then there's Isaac. Sometimes, when he walks past me to sit at one of the long cafeteria tables where they serve dinner, his hand brushes between my shoulder blades, and it makes my heart drop to my stomach. When he looks at me, it feels like he can see inside of me, like he knows all of things that I keep hidden. I initially dismissed this warmth toward him as gratitude for helping me and not selling me to traffickers, yet. But then he helps me with exercises to keep my arm from getting stiff, and there's something about the way he touches me—gentle yet assertive—that makes a warmth spread through my chest. Sometimes, I think his hands are going to slip farther, around my waist or to my neck, but they never do.
By the end of my second week, my lip is healed and my arm is beginning to regain functionality. There's a fragile layer of new skin across each bullet wound, and movement still isn't entirely pleasant, but it's considerably better than where I started. I'm comfortable picking up small objects with it once again, and I think if I had to shift I could walk without too much of a limp. For now, though, I'm content to stay on two legs and favor my arm until it's entirely healed. As I've recovered, I've run out of reasons why I should stay with Isaac and his pack any longer. There's a part of me that wishes I had an excuse, that maybe a bullet had nicked the bone a little deeper, and I don't bother trying to parse through how troubling of a thought that is.
"I think you should stay," Isaac says simply, as if he's already decided for me anyway. He asked me to have lunch with him by the garden, where a sturdy wooden picnic table has been pushed under the sprawling branches of an oak tree.
"I have to move on." There was no good reason for me to say yes to eating alone with him. I don't want to have to consider trusting men right now; I'd rather keep them at a distance. But there's a certain magic to having Isaac's attention, a limited resource that he doles out with scrutiny. The full weight of it now is nearly crushing.
"You say that, but you have nowhere to move on to."
"That isn't true."
"Quit lying to yourself, Layla." His tone is always harsh, clipped, but I've come to recognize the soft variance in it. I think roughness is just in his nature, like he never figured out the power of being soft. "Your last solo excursion didn't go so well."
"I wasn't in my right mind."
"Have two weeks changed that?"
"Yes, actually."
He's quiet, and then he leans forward, elbows resting on the smooth surface of the table. "You never told me what you were running from, anyway. What scares a girl like you out of Rust Cove?"
"A girl like me?"
"You're a homebody. You need friends and family to stay sane, and you left all of them."
"It's not that simple."
"So tell me about it." He nudges me gently with his shoulder, and I glance quickly up at the way a smile is playing at his lips. "I've respected your space, but I did take you in, and I've fed and housed you for two weeks. You could at least give me a good story." I roll my eyes and he laughs, a sound I don't think I've heard from him before. "Hell, it doesn't even have to be true."
"I ran away with a guy. We weren't matched by the elders and so we just...ran away."
"I didn't see any guy with you."
"Yeah, well he bailed."
"He just left you alone?"
"I mean, he tried to get me to come back...but I can't go back to Rust Cove without the elder's blessing, and I can't do that unless I agree to be with the guy they paired me with."
"So he's back in Rust Cove with his new girl, and here you are lost, shot up, and in the company of strange men. That's some tough shit."
"Yeah, well, life is tough shit sometimes."
"Sounds a little cursed."
"Don't even." I glare at him. "You don't seriously believe that, do you? I've had about enough of curses."
Isaac shrugs, but he doesn't look at me. "I don't really care, one way or the other. I'm kinda like you, actually. I didn't accept my match and so I had to leave. I made quite a stir at the time, and most of the guys here joined me after they heard about it. They also defied the elders in one way or another, mostly the same way you and I did."
"You're kidding. That's a lot of curse for one pack."
He grins, and that heavy, thoughtful stare is back. "I think we're all a little cursed from the beginning, don't you?"
"Maybe. I don't really like that thought."
"Well, life is tough shit sometimes, right?" He turns to me, swinging one leg back out over the bench. "If you want to ride it out yourself, I'll give you a lift to the next town this afternoon. But I think you'll find a better home here than you will anywhere else."
I don't want this to be my home. I don't want this to be my future simply because it's better than the alternative. "I don't know."
"What's not to know?"
"What kind of future do I have here?"
"What future do you have out there? What is it that you want to happen?"
I want Cam back. I just want Cam. Maybe there's a part of me that's holding out for him, that honestly believes he'll come to his senses and come find me. I don't get many updates from Tasha now—I lost my phone in the scuffle with the trappers so I can only occasionally borrow Isaac's—but she told me yesterday that he's really trying with this girl. Cam's never one to half-ass it, I know that. But maybe it means there really is nothing left for me with him.
"Layla?"
"I don't think what I want is a viable option anymore." I take a breath, aware that he's trying to read me whenever I stop speaking. "But if you wouldn't mind...I'd like to take you up on that ride. I don't belong here."
He looks at me, eyes searching my face until I look away, and then he shrugs. "Suit yourself. We'll put together some supplies for you."
"Thanks," I manage.
He stands and offers me a hand. "Let me know if you change your mind."