My lips part, ready to tell whoever has come in that we’re closed, as I turn toward the door and freeze. My eyes widen and my heart starts racing. I can feel the worry coming from Jace, but I can’t do anything about it.
Fear.
It’s the only thing I can process right now.
My voice cracks, “What are you doing here?”
Macneal takes a step closer, and I take one back out of instinct. For most people that would be enough to tell someone to stop, but not Macneal. Something flashes in his eyes, something sinister that has my gut turning over.
“I came for you, Dakota,” he sneers. “You left Denver, and it took me a little while to track you down, but I’m here now. I’m here to take you home.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” my voice is high and shaking with terror.
I hate that he makes me afraid. I also know I can’t do anything about it. The memory of his hands wrapped around my throat has me gasping for air as if he’s doing it again right now. I try and breathe, I try and focus, but all I can see is the way his eyes are begging for violence and how he’s getting closer to me.
My feet feel like they’re made of led, and I can’t take a step back anymore. My eyes well up with tears and even though I try and blink them back, one slides down my cheek. A sound comes out of my throat which sounds like a dying whale.
It only makes Maclean’s smirk widen.
His hand shoots out and he grips a chunk of my hair, his fingers tightening and causing me to wince. His voice is low and threatening, “I told you not to dye your hair. It looks ridiculous on you.” He narrows his eyes, his words like arrows, “You’re trying too hard to be cool. You’re not. You’re nothing.”
“Stop,” I whisper, wishing I could sound stronger, wishing I could scream and yell.
I feel panic coming from Jace, but there’s nothing I can do about it, and I can’t shut the bond down between us. I know he’ll try and get to me, but I have a sinking feeling that he won’t be fast enough.
“Are you really going to fight me on coming home?”
“Denver isn’t my home. Not anymore.” I try and shake my head, but all it does is pull at the strands of my hair that he’s still holding onto. I have no doubt that his knuckles are turning white with the force of his grip. “I’m opening the shop here. I live here,” my voice gains a little bit of strength and I try and find some joy in standing up to the man in front of me, but it’s hard to fight the fear.
Macneal sneers and before my next heartbeat, which is a loud thud inside my chest, he slaps me hard across my face with his free hand, not letting my hair go with the other. It causes the force of the hit to be even greater since I can’t absorb any of the momentum of the impact.
I have to just take it.
I hate feeling weak. Macneal has always made me feel weak. Now, after spending some time with Jace, I realize he doesn’t make me feel that way. He makes me feel strong, wanted, and sexy as fuck. It’s too damn bad that coming face-to-face with my past has caused such a realization.
I should have told Jace how much he means to me instead of letting fear rule me. Now, I don’t know if I’ll get the chance.
Macneal grips my hair tighter, and I feel some of the strands pull out of my head as he starts to drag me toward the door. I scream, but I’m worried no one will hear me. Or maybe everyone will hear me? I don’t even know.
I wonder if Macneal knows what kind of town he came to. I’ve made some connections, but will it be enough to save me?
I send all the love I can through my bond with Jace. If this is it, if this morning and the kiss goodbye was the last one that I get, I want him to know how much I cherish it. It flashes in my head, one of those romance movie kisses that transcends time and space. It was perfect.
It’ll be my last memory of him.
I can feel a sense of urgency coming from him along with a plea for me to hang on, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t want to be, but I’m so fucking weak. Tears are streaming down my face and blurring my eyesight.
As Macneal pulls me through the door, I grab ahold of the jam, my knuckles turning white with how much I’m trying to stop him from dragging me out. I don’t want to go with him. I scream again which is when I hear the murmurs of those coming out of their shops near me to investigate what is going on.
Relief starts to fill me, but then it slams into me as I hear a fucking roar coming from down the street. I know who it is. I know what it means.
Macneal freezes but then he turns to me, a snarl on his face that doesn’t fill me with fear, not right now, not when I know safety is so close. “What the fuck was that?” He narrows his eyes at me and scoffs. “You think you’re safe now, but you’re not. Dakota, you’re mine and if I can’t have you then no one can.”
He starts to drag me again, taking two steps but then his head swings one direction and then the other. It sounds like a stampede coming our way, but I know it’s just one pissed off wolfman. My wolfman.
“Get your fucking hands off my mate,” the words are a garbled growl, but I hear them clearly and so does Macneal.
He lets go of my hair, some of my strands still between his fingers while my scalp stings. I’ll gladly take the loss of some hair over being taken wherever he was planning on forcing me to go.