The Wilde Expedition

42. crescendo

Copyright © 2015. All Rights Reserved.

〮CHAPTER FORTY TWO 〮

Beron took the wheel—figuratively—and ordered Gavin around like he was his chauffeur. He had the sight of his gun on Gavin's head, and a sharp, watchful eye on me, which was fair considering I stared right back at him and his scarred forehead. Since it hadn't healed yet like most wounds, I knew that flaw was permanent.

Gavin pulled the van out of the garage and around the estate circle, passing the houses of pack council members. I couldn't even watch anything other than Beron now, because I didn't trust a hair on his pretty-boy head. We passed the gates, and found the posts unguarded. His face said he had something to do with that.

"Turn left," he ordered. Away from town. He knew his way around—at least a little. Once we hit the real roads, I sensed Gavin's eyes on me briefly.

"What's this about," I demanded. "I told you-"

"Don't talk. Turn left, and follow the signs to the freeway," he said, his voice monotonous and flat. It was enough for me to pick up the fact that he was completely done with whatever "bullshit" he thought I was pulling, and he was willing to risk Gavin's head over mine.

I did as I was told because unlike Beron, I wasn't willing to risk the odds. On the freeway, Gavin kept his van under fifty-five, despite Beron's haste, and chugged along until the exit came. We were near the Stonecroft county border, where all the canyons were and the river that passed through the countryside, splitting the territory in two. It was far enough for anything to happen without a single soul there to catch word of it.

Without removing his eyes from mine, he told Gavin to pull over just as he reached behind him and grabbed that all-too familiar black pouch. I glared at him, and didn't make a move to accept it—it didn't seem he wanted me touching him anyway considering what that did at our last meeting. Instead, he let it fall over the back of the bench and flop onto the cushion next to me.

"You know what to do," he said

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm not injecting myself, not with that shit," I hissed. The wheels of the van hit the gravel and pulled to a stop. Gavin remained quiet as he shut the van off and let his eyes glance down at the black pouch. He'd probably seen it before, and knew exactly what was in there.

"You'll do it, or would you rather see Gavin's blood all over the windshield?" he retorted back, his lips pulling back into a snarl. I imagined Gavin looked pretty panicky then, but as I spared a glance towards him, I saw him only watching me.

"Tell me why," I ordered suddenly, returning my gaze back to Beron. His eyes narrowed at me then. "Tell me where your buddies are. Why are you alone. What do you plan to do with Gavin."

"They aren't here, I'm taking matters into my own hands," he sneered, and I tensed has his hand gripped tighter onto the handgun. "And I'm not planning anything unless you don't do as you're told."

"Tell me why," I repeated, this time harsher and with strict vigor.

He practically interrupted me, his voice rising in annoyance. "You are in no position, Emma, to ask questions," he said, a growl slipping past his lips. Hearing it was like an alarm in my head—even if he didn't shoot Gavin, shifting would be just as bad. I wasn't prepared to encounter Wolf Beron in the Wilde Child.

I pulled the string around the pouch and unfurled it to reveal the set of syringes, medicine bottles, and discarded needles. After glancing at Beron once more, I slipped out a blank syringe and a filled medicine bottle, and jabbed the needle through the top of it. The syringe sucked up the clear liquid until it was full. All the while, my eyes were flickering to Gavin's, as if trying to leech some sort of plan off of him. So far, I wasn't picking up anything, and I wasn't sure if he was in the position to start fighting back.