Chaser poked and prodded at me, massaging my arms and ribs, searching for broken bones. When he pressed his palms against my stomach, I shoved him away.

  “Don’t.”

  “Sloane, I need to check for broken bones.”

  “I don’t have any.”

  He grimaced. “It seems the moon follows you even when it sets.”

  Screw the moon.

  “I just killed a man… I just…” I felt his gaze on me, but I couldn’t meet it. Killing was second nature to him—he pulled the trigger and had zero regrets—but for me…? “I…”

  Chaser stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around me, embracing my body against his. He’d never comforted me. Never.

  “You saved my life,” he whispered into my hair. “No one’s ever done that before. No one at all.”

  Chapter 22

  Chaser

  “What do you mean, no one’s ever saved your life?”

  I glanced over my shoulder to where Sloane sat beside the road. She was covered in blood, but there weren’t any noticeable injuries on her. Her wolf side had done its job and then some.

  I was rifling through the black sedan, trying to find anything that’d help, but I wasn’t having much luck. Two tyres were blown out, the back axle was cracked, and the fuel tank had a bullet hole in it. Luckily, it hadn’t blown the car up.

  We weren’t driving it anywhere.

  I found nothing useful on the bodies, either. The vampires had really upped their faceless men routine.

  “Chaser?”

  I narrowed my eyes and snatched the tyre iron out of the boot. Sloane was covered in her own blood and the smell was tugging at my composure.

  “Aren’t you worried another car will find us?” she asked, changing tactics. “If someone finds us with those bodies, we’re screwed.”

  Striding over to the twisted wreck that used to be my car, I shoved the end of the tyre iron under the lip of the boot and heaved. Metal groaned, then gave way as it opened. Our bags tumbled out and collided with the road, the sound of something smashing caused Sloane to scramble to her feet.

  “That better not be my laptop,” she exclaimed.

  I tossed Sloane her bag, which landed at her feet with a thud.

  “If you’ve got a jumper in there, you’d better put it on,” I commanded. “It gets cold out here at night.”

  She rifled through her bag, wailing when she saw her laptop’s shattered screen. I narrowed my eyes but said nothing. This was her way of coping after she’d killed that vampire. It wasn’t easy killing, and even though Sloane was one tough woman, nothing was more confronting than taking a life, human or supernatural.

  Watching her take out a cardigan, I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder, making sure the gun I’d taken from the heavies was tucked into the waistband of my jeans. When Sloane stood, I handed her back her gun.

  “I…” she began, staring at my outstretched hand.

  “Take it,” I said. “You wanted it a week ago, so here it is.”

  “I don’t think…”

  “You could’ve shot me,” I told her. “But you didn’t.”

  She pursed her lips and stared at the gun. After a moment, she reached out and took it.

  “It’s a hard thing,” I murmured. “The first time.”

  “Hopefully, it was the last,” she muttered before setting out down the road.

  Watching her walk away from the wreck and the bodies, I sighed. I knew it was only the first of many, but it would only harm her if I told her the truth. Being a werewolf or a supernatural was challenging enough, but a wolf who could turn at will…? It would be survival of the fittest for the rest of her life.

  “If I didn’t feel like throwing up, I might like it out here,” Sloane declared, her voice loud in the silence.

  “Are you feeling sick?” I asked, catching up to her.

  Stopping, I grasped her arm. She didn’t fight me when I placed my palm against her forehead. She was a little warm.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “You feel warm.”

  “If I were going to die from internal bleeding, I’d already be dead,” she stated. “My wolfness healed me. It’s fine.”

  “You killed him to survive. He would’ve come after you once he killed me.”

  She glanced up at the sky. “I know.”

  A melancholy howl echoed across the vast landscape, and she stiffened.

  “What’s that?” she asked, her head twisting towards the noise.

  “Calm down, it’s just a dingo. The full moon is long gone.”

  She shivered and looked around at the landscape.

  “Keep walking,” I commanded. “The sooner we find civilisation, the sooner we’re back on the road.”

  There was no reply, and we walked in silence as the sun went down.

  “He called you William,” she said after a while. “Why?”

  Sloane could never leave things unsaid for too long. How much had she heard before she shot that guy? Best to play it by ear and not give too much away. My past wasn’t her business or burden to carry. She had enough of her own problems to worry about.

  “Because that’s my name,” I said after a pause.

  “Your real name?”

  “You think my parents called me Chaser?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

  “No.”

  She stopped walking, and I turned, peering at her in the darkness. Her long hair was tangled and strewn with dirt, the knees of her jeans were ripped open, the toes of her boots were scuffed, but she was still beautiful. The sight of her tore my dead heart in two.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “You don’t like talking very much.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What gave it away?”

  “I still want to run away with you, you know.”

  I grunted and started walking. A moment later, the sound of her footsteps caught up to me.

  “Do you think they were watching us back at the lake?” she asked.

  “Possibly.”

  She shivered. “Are we going to sleep out here?”

  I glanced up at the sliver of moon and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “But we’ve got nothing to make a fire, and there are dingoes out there…” As if on cue, another howl echoed through the night. “Are they…”

  “Are they what?”

  “Attracted to…” she gestured to herself, “werewolves.”

  I snorted. “It’s about ten kilometres to the nearest town,” I said. “That’s about five hours in werewolf speed.” A smirk pulled at my mouth. “Or I could just carry you.”

  She screwed up her face. “You want to carry me?”

  “Yes.” I pointed to the sign that was looming out in the darkening twilight. “Five hours or forty-five minutes, take your pick.”

  Sloane scowled, which only caused me to laugh.

  “Don’t laugh at me,” she complained. “Five-hour walk? Stuff that. Carry me.”

  Sighing, I turned and tapped my shoulder. “Put your bag on your back and get on.”

  I waited as Sloane fumbled with her duffel, then her warm hands were on my shoulders. She leapt up and wrapped her arms around my neck, and I grasped her knees.

  “Don’t let go,” I warned, then I turned away from the last smear of sunlight on the horizon, and I ran.

  Forever moving east… Straight into the lion’s den.

  I slowed to a walk when we reached the first signs of civilisation.

  The lights were on at the local pub, the street outside clogged with cars and utes, and music and noise echoed through the open windows.

  Sloane wriggled on my back, and I loosened my grip. She landed on the road, her boots thudding on the asphalt. The scent of her blood began to dissipate but it still hung around me like an intoxicating perfume.

  “I think I’ve got wind burn,” she complained.

  Ignoring her, I held my breath and scanned the street.

  There wasn’t much to this town other than the pub. A post office, a small supermarket, a couple of boarded-up shops that looked as if they harkened back to a time I barely remembered, and a house or two in the distance.

  Spying a car parked farther down the road, away from the lights of the pub, I crossed to the opposite side of the road and kept to the shadows.

  Sloane followed, mirroring my steps.

  The car was an old beat-up Holden, a late 90s model, which was good for us. New cars were difficult to hot-wire with their advanced computer systems and immobilisers. I didn’t have time to mingle at the pub and compel a set of keys from a local. The less faces that saw us, the better.

  I tried the driver’s side door and found it unlocked. Ducking inside, I leaned underneath the dash and began to pull at the wiring.

  Sloane leaned against the car and watched me, her eyes burning a hole into my back.

  “You really know a lot of stuff, don’t you?”

  I grunted as I stripped the wiring.

  “Do you know how to whittle?”

  “I’m a vampire, not Crocodile Dundee,” I drawled, sparking the wires. The engine turned over and I slipped into the seat, tossing my bag into the back. “Get in.”

  She ducked around to the other side and got in the front, easing her bag on her lap.

  I backed the car up, leaving the headlights off, and turned down a side street, taking us into the bush. When I was satisfied that we were far enough from town, I pulled over.

  “What are you doing?” Sloane asked, her eyes on me.

  “You need to change your clothes,” I commanded, getting out of the car. We were both filthy from the accident. Blood stained the front of my T-shirt, and Sloane was covered in it—and I was tired of holding my breath.

  She didn’t argue as she stepped out onto the dark road. Taking out a clean T-shirt and a pair of jeans, she stripped out of her clothes. “Where are we going now?”

  “We’re going to Adelaide.” I turned my back to give her some privacy. “Then we’re dumping the car and getting a train.”

  “A train? Seriously?”

  “They won’t expect it.”

  She snorted. “You’ve got that right. Australia isn’t exactly the train capital of the world.”

  Opening the back, I grabbed my bag and found some clean clothes. I took off my bloodied T-shirt and jeans. As I was pulling on a fresh pair of trousers, I sensed Sloane staring.

  I knew I intrigued her, but I wasn’t sure if it was her newly-awakened wolf instincts or her desperation to understand the world she now found herself in. I wasn’t any good for her, even if I was free to choose.

  Lifting my head, I caught her gaze over the roof of the car. Her chin lowered as her heart skipped, and I narrowed my eyes as my humanity stirred. It was growing a little every day, creeping back in like a bad smell that just wouldn’t quit.

  Glad the car was between us, I pulled on a clean T-shirt and stashed the dirty one back in my bag.

  “If you’re done, get back in the car,” I snapped. “The sooner we get into the city, the better.”

  Sloane sighed and wrenched the back door open, threw her bag in, and slammed it closed. The sound echoed down the lonely road, and I got back in the front. I sparked the wires again and the engine turned over.

  Sloane got back in, her gaze hard. “Chaser, for once—”

  “I know what you want,” I interrupted, putting on my seat belt. “But I’m not the comforting type.”

  She stared at me as I pressed my foot on the accelerator. The wheels spun in the gravel and we took off the moment we hit asphalt.

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered, knowing I could hear. “Pull the other one.”

  Chapter 23

  Sloane

  I’d never been to Adelaide before. I stared out the window, taking everything in, as we drove our stolen Holden through the centre of the city. The parks, the churches, the treelined streets…all of it. If we weren’t on the run, I would’ve loved to stay a while.

  The city was barely awake as we dumped the car on a back street. Keeping our heads down, we made our way to the train station. It sat on the edge of the central business district, flanked by wide-open green spaces, making it feel as if we were back in the bush.

  Chaser organised tickets, using his fancy vampire mind control, while I waited near the platform.

  I watched him flirt with the female cashier and scowled. After everything we’d been through, after hearing his real name, I was understanding just how much I didn’t know—about Chaser, about werewolves, about Fortitude. Nothing had changed, even after I’d killed that vampire. I’d turned, but I still didn’t understand what it meant.

  I knew how I felt, but I couldn’t reconcile the two parts of myself. Add Chaser into the mix, and I had a whole truckload of problems.

  He turned from the counter and sauntered over to me.

  “There’s an Overland train leaving this morning,” he said, slipping the tickets into his bag. “It will take us all the way to Melbourne.”

  “How convenient,” I drawled.

  “I can see your attitude is back.”

  “I’m wondering how I’d fare jumping from a moving train,” I went on, my anger rising. “I did survive a car crash.”

  “And how do you think you’d fare with two broken legs?” Chaser asked. “How long do you think they’d take to heal? If they heal at all.”

  A sob threatened to escape, and I sank down onto the bench behind me, hiding my face from him.

  “What? Giving up so soon?”

  Chaser’s renewed coldness felt like a knife in my heart, and I almost wished I’d kept running the night I’d turned.

  “Sloane.” He sat beside me.

  “Just stop, Chaser,” I snapped. “I’m sick of all this emotional whiplash. Either you care or you don’t. I’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

  “Bigger things than what?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” I said. “I know there’s things you’re not telling me. Things about what I am and why those vampires want me…and the real reason my father wants to control me. I have a right to know.”

  “Maybe, but it’s not for me—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Exhaustion was driving my irritation as my fate closed around me. The light was fading, and possible escape routes were being shut off one by one. Once we get on that train, it’ll almost be over. “Who are you, Chaser? More importantly, who are you to me? The mystery deepens.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” he said as the train approached the station. Passengers began to gathering their things and a whistle blew.

  “We never have time when things get too hard, Chaser. Don’t worry, I know how men like you operate.”

  “Unlikely.”

  I snorted, not wanting to argue about the fact that I felt like I was stuck between some suspected unrequited love and a father whose motives were even more mysterious than the Bermuda Triangle.

  The game was changing so fast, I could hardly keep up.

  He wouldn’t let anything happen to me? How was it only now that I realised it was a promise he couldn’t keep?

  Chaser snorted and picked up our bags as the train eased alongside the platform. “Contrary to popular belief, I do care about you, Sloane. The only person standing between you and your belief of that is you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I climbed onto the train behind him, thoroughly annoyed he’d gotten in the last word. Again.

  Deep down, I knew Chaser cared about me. I saw it in the way he made sure I was never hungry, how I’d always gotten the bed and the first shower, how he took a bullet for me, how he trusted me when he gave me my gun back, and when he’d agreed to let me turn. I didn’t know why he held himself back from giving more than that—maybe it was merely duty that stood in his way—but I knew exactly what kept me from saying the words out loud.

  Chaser was one of them; he was Fortitude, and I was afraid he’d turn out to be nothing more than a disciple of violence and brutality like the rest of them. So, I didn’t tell him.

  He didn’t want to run away with me, and he didn’t want to help me escape my father. Maybe if I told myself that, then it would be easier when we parted ways.

  Maybe my heart wouldn’t break when he walked away.

  Maybe I’d be able to survive the storm to come if I wasn’t completely shattered.

  Maybe…

  Staring out the window, I watched the platform move away from us, and the city flashed past as the train picked up speed. The central part of town morphed into an industrial zone, and then the factories melted away into wilderness. Overhead, the sky was blue, and below, the earth was scorched.

  The train was more modern than I’d expected. We had a little private room with a shower and toilet, but when I said little, I meant shoebox-sized.

  There was a seat with reclining sections and a separate chair. At night, the seat somehow converted to a bed, and above it was a fold-down bunk. Ten or so smaller compartments made up the bulk of the carriage, along with other cars that held standard seating, fancier suites, a restaurant, and more.

  Everything was grey and red, which reflected my mood perfectly.

  “You want a shower?” Chaser asked.

  I nodded and peered into the tight space, making a face. The shower was so small, it sat over the toilet. It would have to do. I smelled and felt like a giant wad of stinky trash. Plus, my hair was still full of grit, grime, and dried blood from the accident.

  “Turn around,” I said, glaring at him.

  Chaser grunted, angled his body away from me, and stared out the window.

  Stripping, I left my dirty clothes on the seat and closed myself inside the cubicle. Dousing myself with warm water, I tried not to focus on the last twenty-four hours and allowed my thoughts to wander.

  I scrubbed off the filth of our car crash drama as best I could with the little square of soap provided.

  The image of the world tumbling around and around filled my mind, and I pressed my palm against the wall to steady myself. It didn’t help that the train was moving, and I breathed deeply. Calmness only made my ears ring with the sound of the fatal gunshot…and the withered corpse on the side of the road.