Lucan thought about those fantasies he’d had as he’d lain in that hard bunk, behind bars. Then he glanced at the other four wolven. They were all standing still, their hands clasped behind their backs, a signal that they would not interfere. No matter what Lucan did.
Glancing over his shoulder, he checked on the Monte Carlo. Rio was standing in front of the bullet-riddled hood, her arms crossed over her chest, her body braced.
Lucan smiled as he refocused on his prostrated cousin. “You’re fucking lucky I met her because of that hellhole.”
On that note, he extended his palm—and when his relative took what was offered, he pulled the other male up… and held him close.
Callum shuddered as the scent of tears wafted up between them. “My conscience has never forgiven me those actions.”
“Good.” Lucan cradled the male’s head as it dropped down. “That’s a fitting punishment.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Several hours later, Kane awoke to the sound of burbling water and the smell of fresh-cut pine and good earth. As he drew in breath, he had the sense that his body had been carefully tended to. He was not pain free, but he did have enough distance between his sensory receptors and his brain’s capacity such that he could try to assess where he was.
His eyes opened. He expected to see the night sky, for he was certain that he was out of doors. Instead, there was some kind of draping over him, and not far above his head, but rather close to, by merely six inches.
Somewhere nearby, a fire crackled, and the flames cast yellow and orange flares across the sheeting. He wondered about the water, the flow like a small stream that traversed rocks, the chatter friendly. Welcoming.
“You wake.”
The voice was female, but he could not tell what direction it came from. Rather, it seemed to be all around him. Perhaps inside of him? But that was not possible.
What kind of drugs had they given him back at the prison camp?
“Where am I?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. He wasn’t sure he was conscious, and if he was, he didn’t trust that voice was real.
“You are on the mountain. You are safe.”
Unexpected tears speared into his eyes.
“It is all right,” the voice told him. “You have been through quite a trial.”
Was she referring to finding hisshellanmurdered, or when he’d been framed for the death, or the centuries in prison? Or the escape itself?
“May I inquire something?” he said hoarsely.
“Yes, of course.”
“Are you real?”
There was a chuckle. “Yes.”
“Am I out of the prison camp?”
“Yes. You are here with Lucan’s clan, on our territory.”
“Are my people okay? Lucan and Rio? Apex. Mayhem…” The male had been so injured. “Is Mayhem—”
“They are all well and safe. They’re being fed and watered by Lucan’s family. Amends have been made and accepted, the rift that was someone else’s tear mended by what is left of the perpetrators of the crime.” There was another soft chuckle. “I do believe Callum, as intractable and arrogant as he is, has had quite a humbling.”
“Are they safe? My… friends.”
Given that they were out of the prison camp, it seemed wrong to use the term “prisoner,” and what a relief.
“Yes. And so are you.”
He paused and gathered his thoughts. “What year is it?” When she told him the date, he frowned. “Is that in human years?”