“Move,” I commanded, opening the rear door and yanking out her duffel bag. Sharp corners pressed against the canvas from the inside and bashed into my leg. How many books did she shove in there?

  “I hope you requested two singles,” she said, snatching her bag off me.

  “Don’t worry,” I drawled. “You can have the bed and the bugs all to yourself.”

  “What a gentleman.”

  Ignoring her, I popped the boot and got my stuff. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I locked the car and went to find the room. It was only morning, but after driving all night, I figured it was best to keep our heads down for the time being. We’d get back on the road tomorrow.

  Room number eight wasn’t far away. Unlocking the door, I was aware of Sloane behind me. She was abrasive, rash, and all bravado, but it had me wondering if there were any teeth in it. Everything about her screamed wolf, but she hadn’t fought back.

  Kicking open the door, I let her go in first. She dropped her duffel onto the floor and glared at the scene before her.

  The place reeked of mothballs and dampness. The whole motel had seen better days, and so had the upholstery.

  All these rooms were the same, no matter where I went. Cheap floral curtains, scratchy doona covers, mould in the showers, plumbing clogged with lime and rust buildup. I’d forgotten how precious women could be about clean linen.

  “This is what seventy bucks gets?” She sounded mortally wounded, and I snorted.

  “Sure you don’t want a cuddle?” I asked, baiting her. “We got a double.”

  “I’d rather die.” She rolled her eyes and dragged her bag farther into the room where she flung herself onto the floor and began pulling out the contents.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the empty parking lot before closing the door and turning on the light.

  Sloane was illuminated by the cheap fluorescent, and for the first time, I saw her clearly. No half-light in a dingy pub, no orange streetlights, no dark corridors. I hadn’t bothered looking too close outside, not when the sun was on her. One glance at her milky skin had turned my gaze right back onto the road.

  We’d be back in Melbourne in a couple of days. I could do it in two, but I needed to stay sharp. Last night had shown just how close they were.

  Back roads, inconspicuous motels where they didn’t ask questions, and everything in cash. No planes, trains, or buses where ID was required and security cameras were on twenty-four seven. The trick was not to get into any trouble I couldn’t compel our way out of.

  Grimacing, I had a bad feeling trouble was already in the room.

  Sitting on the end of the bed, I opened my bag and took out the gun Sloane had shoved against my head the night before. Pulling out the magazine, I checked the bullets. Narrowing my eyes, I watched her go through her clothes and smooth out the creases before refolding everything. Neat, methodical, and careful. She was taking inventory.

  Sloane, or whatever she called herself now, was a runner. She’d already tried to slip away once, so I’d have to watch her like a hawk. I was forbidden to harm her, bound to my orders with blood and magic. If I touched her or delivered her with a scratch that was my fault, the boss would string me up and flay me alive.

  “What the hell are you looking at?” Sloane demanded, dropping the little dress she’d had in her hands and glaring at me.

  It was in that moment that I realised that she didn’t know.

  She didn’t know what I was, what she was, or her father’s true nature. How couldn’t she?

  Unless she hadn’t turned…

  That was it, wasn’t it? She’d grown up away from Fortitude and when her mother died, she’d been put into the system before disappearing entirely.

  She’d been attacked by a vampire and hadn’t fought back. When I’d grabbed her, her strength was human, even her scent was clean.

  Things had just become infinitely more complicated. Sloane didn’t understand just how much danger she was in. If she knew what those vampires were capable of, she’d be singing another tune…and baying at the full moon.

  “You’re still staring at me,” she said with a snarl. She might not know she was a werewolf, but she had the bite of one.

  “I’m having a shower,” I said, ignoring her sharp tongue. “Then I’ll get us some food. Don’t think about leaving.”

  She eyed the gun in my lap, and I picked it up and slammed the magazine back into the grip. When she twigged I was taking it with me, she glanced at the car keys. Yeah, I was taking those, too.

  I curled my lip as I opened the bathroom door. If Sloane didn’t know, then I shouldn’t tell her. Throwing a glance over my shoulder at her, she smiled sweetly.

  “Don’t let me keep you,” she said with a pout.

  Slamming the door closed, I shut her out and ran my hand over my face. Not even a day had passed, and already, I wanted to throttle her.

  Turning on the shower, I undressed as steam filled the room. Seeing there was blood splattered on my T-shirt, I cursed and tossed it into the bin.

  Wiping the condensation off the mirror, I stared at my reflection. Pretty boy Chaser.

  I was many things, but to most, I was just another monster. A vampire working for wolves. Betrayer, psychopath, inhuman.

  I’d been a part of Fortitude for the better part of a century. It was a long time on the road doing what I did. Hunting down the scum of the earth, settling scores, working the other side. I was the nameless ghost who walked in, solved problems with blood and violence, and walked out golden…all in the name of the Fortitude Wolves, the alpha pack of the East Coast.

  There was a reason they called me Chaser. I chased blood and money, and nothing else.

  I was the guy in the corner you didn’t mess with. I was the guy who didn’t blink when I took the shot. I was the guy who didn’t care about how many people I’d killed. I was the guy who worked best alone. I was the guy who the boss ‘trusted’ to get his little girl…who wasn’t so little anymore.

  All I cared about was the job. All I cared about was the job.

  When I finally emerged from the bathroom, Sloane was still on the floor where I’d left her…oblivious to the dark world of werewolves and vampires.

  Chapter 6

  Sloane

  I should’ve made a break for it, but I didn’t know where the hell we were. Outside, there was nothing but trees and road. Even I knew running blindly into the outback with no water or map was a death sentence.

  And it wasn’t until Chaser had turned on the shower that I realised he’d stolen my money and my fake ID. He was a real piece of work, that one.

  I had zero illusions that this was one of those fun cross-country road trips. I was cargo; I wouldn’t have any say on how or where. The only thing I was good for was sitting still and keeping my mouth shut.

  Despite the eventful night, I wasn’t tired. I figured it had something to do with the adrenaline or the shock, maybe both. My mind raced, my thoughts full of images of the man out the back of the pub, Chaser shoving him off me like he weighed nothing, and poor Mrs. Adelstein dead in the hallway.

  Yvette must be worried about me. When I don’t show tonight, she’ll beg the boss to check the security footage. Then they’d see the moment that man attacked me out back. Then the cops would link it to the murder at the apartments, giving me an alibi, but putting me and my fake identity on their radar.

  Rolling my eyes at the shadowed roof, I studied the rise and fall of the popcorn ceiling. I knew the last thing the pub owners would want was police sniffing around—especially not when there was a borderline illegal trade happening out the side door. They thought the staff didn’t see the money fly under the table, but we did. Like any of it mattered anymore.

  No one was coming for me. At least, no one good.

  Rolling over, I squinted, trying to make out Chaser’s features in the dark. He’d taken the spare blankets and pillows out of the closet and made a makeshift bed on the floor. I’d complained until I was blue in the face, but he’d still closed every curtain against the sun and forced me to sleep.

  His chest rose and fell, the gun lying on top of his sternum, his right hand curled around the grip. At this angle, he didn’t look like the hard biker bounty hunter I assumed he was. He looked like…a boy. Nothing but a boy with a toy gun.

  Sighing, I rolled over onto my other side. I was stuck for the moment—until I could nick my money back off him—but it wasn’t that bad, was it? He hadn’t tried to lay his hands on me, and he’d saved me from that man.

  Maybe I could convince him to take me some place else, far away from my father. Maybe…

  I must have finally fallen asleep because I remembered seeing a full moon. I’d dreamt about them often enough that I’d become immune to the image, putting it down to a silly little quirk in my subconscious.

  This time it burned a dull burnished gold, rearing over the horizon as the sun set. It was abnormal, how it hung amongst the fiery glow, and it dominated my line of sight. I could see the dark splotches of ancient craters and trace the rise and fall of the destruction with my gaze.

  I’d raised my hand, reaching towards it, wanting to touch—

  “Sloane.”

  My eyes cracked open, and I moaned. Chaser was standing over me, backlit by the window, which was full of the orange blaze of sunset. It felt like I’d only just fallen asleep.

  “Get up,” he barked, pulling the doona off me.

  “Hey!” I scrambled, trying to yank it back up.

  Luckily, I’d slept in a T-shirt long enough to cover my assets, so there wasn’t much for him to see.

  “You’ve got ten minutes. I want you ready by the time I get back from the office.”

  Before I could open my mouth, he strode from the room and slammed the door closed behind him. A few doors down, a dog barked.

  Snatching the clothes I’d laid out that morning, I darted into the shower and had a quick scrub. If I wasn’t out and dressed in ten, there was no doubt in my mind Chaser would be in here, dragging me out by the hair…even if I was naked and covered in soap suds.

  I dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, a beat-up black T-shirt, my faded denim jacket with the ripped pockets, and boots. Glancing in the mirror, I fluffed up my hair and pouted. Glancing at the little pouch of makeup, I rolled my eyes. What was the point?

  Chaser wasn’t back when I emerged from the bathroom, so I grabbed my bag and went outside. Standing by the car, I surveyed the parking lot and the highway beyond.

  There was nothing but cracked asphalt and patchy greenish-grey scrub as far as the eye could see. A road train—a semi hauling three trailers—rumbled past, lit up like a carnival ride.

  The indicators on the car flashed orange, and the locks clicked as they disengaged. Glancing around, I saw Chaser through the window of the office, chatting up some old lady. Wrenching the door open, I slipped into the front passenger seat.

  Opening the glove compartment, I rifled through the contents, but I found nothing useful, not even a spare pair of sunglasses.

  The driver’s side door opened, and Chaser got in.

  “Looking for something?” he asked.

  “I was looking for something to bash your skull in with,” I retorted.

  “Good luck with that.” He put the key into the ignition and turned the engine on. Throwing his arm back, he curled his hand around the corner of my seat and looked over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking space.

  He turned onto the highway and gunned it.

  “Put your seat belt on,” he ordered, reaching over me and tugging at the belt.

  Slapping his arm away, I wrenched the seat belt across my body and clipped it in place. “Happy?”

  “Far from it.”

  Glaring at him, I studied the side of his face, searching for a flicker of something I could manipulate, but all I found was hostility.

  “What are you looking at?” he snapped.

  “So, if you work for my father, you’re in his gang of losers,” I declared. “You don’t look like a biker.”

  “Looks can be deceiving. How old are you?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  He narrowed his eyes and turned back to the road. “You’re twenty-five.”

  “Why’d you bother asking if you already knew?” I snorted and kicked my feet up onto the dash.

  “Get your feet down,” he snapped, shoving my boots.

  “Where’s your bike, huh? And your leathers? Since when do bikers ferry around cargo in a Toyota Camry?”

  “I know you’re trying to bait me,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road. “It won’t work, so do yourself a favour and keep quiet.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Where’s your bike?”

  He glanced at me from out the corner of his eye but didn’t reply.

  “Do you even know what fortitude means?” I went on.

  “Courage in pain and adversity,” he deadpanned.

  “Are you really that brainwashed?” I asked, curling my lip. “You’re spouting off the company motto like it’s a religion.”

  “What I think is irrelevant.”

  I stared at him, measuring his abrasive coldness. His movements were precise, like he was on autopilot. Like he’d done this many times before. He did what he was told and never deviated from his orders.

  “You believe in it all, don’t you?” I asked. “The motto, the brotherhood, the criminal activity. You don’t care who you hurt.”

  Chaser’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Shut up, Sloane.”

  “You don’t care if you hurt me.”

  “How I wish I could compel you to shut up,” he muttered, focusing on the road ahead.

  “Violence, crime, pain, suffering… You want to take me back to that? My mother spent her entire life trying to keep me away from it until she died. I don’t want any part of it. I don’t care who’s trying to kill me. I want to disappear.”

  “I said shut up,” Chaser hissed.

  “What kind of future do you think I’ll have if you take me back there?” I snarled, anger welling up so fiercely, I almost felt like snatching the wheel and running us off the road.

  “I will throw you in the boot if you keep testing me, Sloane.”

  “What do you get out of it? Money? Power? Drugs?”

  Everyone and everything in life had an ulterior motive. It was called personal gain. No one cared about other people’s feelings. Even love was a sham. My mum loved my dad enough to make me, and even though she got out, it still got her killed. That was how much it mattered.

  “You keep talking, but I don’t answer,” he drawled, not looking at me. “You’re living up to the definition of insanity, Sloane.”

  I curled my hand around the seat belt and scowled. Chaser was saving me from a terrible fate, but he was delivering me to one just as shitty. He wasn’t turning around or letting me go. He was a sheep who would follow orders or die trying. I’d tried to bait him and win him to my side, but at least now I knew who’s side he was truly on. Spoiler alert…it wasn’t mine.

  It just goes to show that you can never trust a pretty face.

  Sighing, I turned towards the window and stared at the passing landscape. It was time to formulate an escape plan. There were still a few thousand kilometres from here to Melbourne.

  “What? Giving up so soon?” Chaser asked.

  “You love the fight, Chaser,” I retorted, “and the things you love…? I would rather die than give them to you.”

  Chapter 7

  Sloane

  With all hopes for a Thelma and Louise-style road trip dashed, all I could do was sit and wait.

  Watching the landscape change outside the car window, I studied the horizon. A bluish-purple tinge faded upwards with a smear of clouds that broke it all up into pieces. Night was upon us, the last of the day fading into a blanket of star-studded indigo.

  Trees flanked either side of the road. Then a yellow road sign flashed past, reflecting in the headlights, warning drivers of crossing wildlife. Farther along, a hand-painted placard advertising food and fuel loomed out of the shadows, telling us it was only two kilometres to the next roadhouse.

  Chaser turned the car off the highway and onto a smaller piece of asphalt that led towards the roadhouse.

  My stomach squirmed, hoping for something edible and a way out of this mess. Pressing my nose against the window, my hopes were dashed when I saw the population count on the welcome sign. Three.

  So, the plan remained the same for now. Play along, give Chaser what he wanted, fish for information on who was after my dad, and the moment his guard slipped, I’d make a break for it. As long as the break was in a populated area with adequate means of transportation and evasion—from both parties.

  The roadhouse wasn’t much to look at. It was a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ kind of set up. The garage had two pumps and a sign displaying the current per litre price. It looked like it’d been originally built sometime in the ‘70s and had various, so-called ‘modern upgrades’ tacked on here and there to modernise it.

  When he cut the engine, Chaser flung the door open and got out.

  Following his lead, I slid out of the tin can and rounded the bonnet, stretching my arms over my head. Man, my backside was numb.

  A few 4WDs with caravans hitched on the back were parked near the pub, and one lonely truck and trailer, but we were the only people at the bowsers.

  Chaser eyed me, the muscles in his bare arms tensing.

  Resigning myself to the fact there was no chance of escape without causing a scene, I leaned against the side of the car. Squinting my eyes in the half-light, I watched the display tick over dollars and litres as he filled the tank.

  “What’s he into this time?” I asked, fishing for information.

  Chaser grunted.

  “Dad?” I prodded. “Has he graduated from petty turf wars fought with Molotov cocktails?”