"My dad sold me to a pack of werewolves to settle his gambling debt."
❀
"I'm going to count to three," Logan growls. He doesn't have to say the rest. If I haven't come to him by then, he'll come to me... and I'll regret it.
I know this game, and I...
Dear awesome/amazing/patient/forgiving reader: I'm so sorry I've been gone for so long! I meant to update, but I got burnt out and started a new fully-time job and things got super busy. Days turned into months and I swear I never meant to make you wait this long.
Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? I'm willing to grovel. Update. Cry. Anything! Just please tell me what I can do to say I'm sorry!
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Logan
Mate, my wolf greets Saffron's groggily.
Instead of running into my arms, she freezes in the doorway, one paw poised in mid-air. She gapes at me, as much as a wolf can gape, while I try to figure out what's wrong?
Also, where am I? And how did I get here? This room looks vaguely familiar, but it's hard to focus. Hard to think.
Logan, Saf whispers, and just like that, she's all I can think about. I want to hug her. To thread my fingers through her soft silver fur, hold her close, and never let go. She's mine and she's everything I've ever dreamed of.
My mate. My Saffron. I need to go to her but I can't move. Why can't I move?
I remember a Rogue... what was his name? Keith? Kurt? Kyle! He pointed a gun at me, and then... then... something hit the back of my head! I jerk at the memory and pain pulses behind my left eye in sharp reminder. My arms and legs throb, too, and I freeze in horror. Did I get shot? Am I bleeding?
I look down in a panic, but instead of bullet wounds, I find ropes. They bind me to the chair, holding me in place.
"Fffff." My attempt to swear nearly makes me choke on my own spit. The Goddess-forsaken Rogues stuffed a gag in my mouth!
Then, another sound registers, footsteps racing down the hall.
Rogues! I cry, struggling against the ropes. I have to protect my mate. I have to save her.
It's just me, Jess shouts. She races into the room, takes one look at me, and pushes past my dazed-looking mate. My ex is dressed in the same clothes as the guards, and kind of looks like them, too: dirty, skinny and half-starved.
Her face has lost a lot of its roundness and the pink in her cheeks has been replaced with gray. When she gets closer, I realize the gray is dust, which coats her from head to toe. I also get hit by a massive wave of B.O. that puts the boys locker room to shame.
I can barely hide my grimace. I tilt my head away from her and hold my breath as she works on the ropes. Then I hear another set of footsteps and Amaryllis staggers into the room: a very naked Amaryllis carrying her mother in her arms. I avert my eyes, which is why it takes me a split second too long to realize that the woman's bleeding.
Mrs. Jones! I cry. What happened?
I'm... fine... she whispers, but she doesn't sound it. She's no longer the vibrant woman who helped me get here.
