Chapter 3 : Behind Enemy Lines

*Gemma* Out of all the things that could happen to me in my life, I never expected to be kidnapped. My kidnapper refused to call it that. He lounged on the couch opposite mine, the picture of ease with legs crossed and a short glass of whiskey in one hand. "Retrieving, picking up, acquiring… choose your synonym, Springs." "Captured," I snapped, the opposite of at ease. Two days into the trip, the Galiot sailing a smooth path toward the West, any hope I'd had of the excitement of adventure was dashed by the constant annoyance that was Gralyn. Despite his hostile appearance, he was never short of a smart remark. He lifted a shoulder, unaffected by my bad attitude that had been my consistent response to his snarky personality. "I follow orders, no feelings attached." Gralyn's hazel eyes were sharper than a chipped shell, dusky brown hair slicked back and shaved on the sides, looking far too crisp and neat of a male to terrify someone when he smiled so charmingly, even if it bared pointed canines. After that first interaction, I refused to be intimidated by him and his much quieter cohort, Hadley, who sat on another couch in the corner. We had an entire parlor to ourselves with plush carpet and were surrounded by windows that overlooked miles and miles of ocean. At the present moment, it was dawning on sundown, so the room was flooded with rich orange light as the sun descended below the horizon. "Whose orders?" I demanded. "You've asked me a dozen times already, Springs," said Gralyn with a long-suffering sigh as he sipped from his glass. "And I'm going to say the same thing—" "'He wants to remain anonymous.' Yeah, yeah, yeah. But why?" He fixed me with a flat look. "If you knew, you'd have jumped ship by now." The words sent a trill of unexpected fear down my spine. I swallowed hard and faced the window. Those miles and miles of ocean… they went miles down just as much as they went across. Suddenly, I was clinging to my far-fetched dream of a loving Alpha on a beachside mansion with all I had left. Gralyn chuckled, satisfied with my lack of response. "We're far from your sad little town, so grow some sharper teeth, little one, or you'll never survive in the West." *** It took another entire day and a half to reach the port whose name Gralyn wouldn't tell me. When we docked midday, I was in the sleeveless white silk top and black shorts—far too short to be modest—that they'd given me. They'd taken away my bag from the second they'd kidnapped me, so now I really had nothing. Just like that, I'd lost the last remnant of home, of everything I knew. With Gralyn leading, and his silent cohort behind me to make sure I didn't bolt, we got off the ship with a few other passengers and took no break to continue down the long boardwalk until it was suddenly flagstone; we were in the ruins of a city. "Niburgh," Gralyn said without looking back. "The last neutral stronghold in the West." I didn't really know what that meant, but it was likely no one's claim because of how desolate it was, with rundown stores with front windows shattered, garbage scattered across the potholed streets, a sickly stench permeating the air. But when we turned into a large center square where the shattered statue's shards were left in the dying garden around it, there was suddenly a bustling crowd. If Hadley hadn't grabbed my scruff, I'd have been swept up in the sea of bodies. I still tripped though, but it wasn't because I'd lost my footing. It wasn't because someone shoved me. It was because I felt something inside me lurch. It made the hair on my arms stand on end and the back of my neck prickle like electricity. It was a feeling that you got when you were being watched. Hadley released me when I whirled around. I scanned the crowd frantically for the one shifter who was staring at me. And I found him; the only other shifter who'd completely stopped, a steady force resilient to the chaos around them. Everything in my vision blurred; nothing was in focus except the male twenty feet away. I could see his shaggy white-blond hair half-hiding stormy gray eyes in sharp clarity, as if my own eyes decided I didn't need to see anything except him, like he was the only thing that mattered. Everything in my body stilled as we watched each other. Minutes seemed to pass within seconds. Something told me that I needed to— I was grabbed by the arm and yanked back so violently that I almost fell to the ground. Another arm jerked me up to standing, shoving me straight out of the throng into a side alley. I tried to turn back but was blocked by Gralyn, who snarled, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" "That male," I bumbled. "There's too many of them out there," Gralyn barked. "There's only one who matters now, and he's the one you're promised to for a nice price. I get paid for delivering you unhurt, so do not pull any shit to put that at risk. Let's go." He yanked me again harshly; I had no choice but to let him drag me along. We left the square behind, but now there was a word floating around in my mind that I just couldn't latch on to; what was it? What was it trying to say from the moment I locked that male's gaze? *** Gralyn simmered the entire train ride, but I could tell he was pleased by my silence. It was only half an hour's travel, and when it slowed, and then jerked to a stop, I jolted out of a daze. I looked out of the window, and my throat tightened. It was like the ocean—endless miles of the same thing—except this time it was dirt… flat, cracked dirt with no more than five cactuses. Heat waves shimmered in the air. The warm weather in the East was apparently nothing compared to that of the West. "We're getting off," Hadley growled at me. I started and looked out the opposite windows. "But there's no station—" "Exactly." I dodged and got to my feet before he could grab me, following Gralyn out from where he waited at the car's door. He hopped out and surprisingly offered a hand, but I pointedly refused and jumped out onto the ground myself. The heat hit me like a wall, and I struggled to take a breath; it was humid and dry and stale. "Finally," a male voice sighed loudly. "You're f*cking late." Hadley shoulder-checked me forward. I nearly stumbled into someone, had they not caught and steadied me with hands to my upper arms. "Little b*tch tried to make a run for it at Niburgh," Gralyn muttered. I went to snap back that it wasn't true, but when I looked up at who gripped me just a little too tightly, I felt all the fight in my body freeze. His grin was a little too wide, his green-gold eyes a little too vivid, and the first thing my brain told me was, 'Don't piss him off or else.' "Opal Springs," he said, voice as raspy as sand on stone. "Some tiny beachside village." He quirked his head and sniffed before wrinkling his nose. "She smells like rotten seafood. Did you idiots let her shower?!" "I showered," I answered before they could, ripping free of his grasp. "You smell like—" Behind me, Gralyn grabbed my scruff. "Do not finish that sentence. You're speaking to—" "Beta Cillian Cade." I looked from him to his offered hand and back. I knew the name. He was the Beta of the Hazel Coast pack. Hazel Coast was the biggest pack in the West… and it was at war with the Sun Mountain pack. Oceantide allied with Sun Mountain… Cillian Cade bared his canines in a wider smile. Of course he knew that. My heart started to pound adrenaline through my veins. It suddenly felt like this was a much bigger, more important trade than I'd thought it was. I steeled myself and shook Cillian's hand. It was large and dry as bone. "Do you know my name? Does your Alpha?" "'Brooks' is all he and I know," said the Beta, brow raising as I pulled my hand free. "Your father made quite the bargain for you." "Why me?" I asked before I could stop myself. Cillian looked at Gralyn and Hadley behind me. "Is she always this… defiant?" "A few days and I was ready to bite my own leg off." I glared at Gralyn over my shoulder. He shrugged his shoulders, uncaring. "He'll love that," Cillian sighed under his breath. "Do you want us to know your name? If not, you remain 'Brooks.'" Using Lynn's name would cause more problems than one, so I decided to claim all past and future faults. "People just call me Gemma." "Plain," Cillian said flatly, looking me up and down, stripping me with his gaze. It wasn't a sexual kind of scan; it more seemed like he was deciding how much time he could stand with me before doing something sinister. "Let's go." He turned on his heel and started walking toward what I hadn't noticed until now: three massive cars that looked vaguely like tanks, which I had only seen in textbooks. Then I saw why we'd gotten off the train in the middle of nowhere: the track ended—was destroyed, the metal rusty and twisted, the last wood planks in splinters. "As you can see," Cillian said, opening the back door for me, "the beasts of the Sun don't like efficient modes of transportation. Why your water-loving packmates side with them is beyond me. But," he continued with that too-wide smile, "we place that all behind with you… Gemma. Inside you go." I stepped forward hesitantly, glancing back at Gralyn and Hadley, who hadn't moved. "You're not coming?" Gralyn said, "Hell no," and hauled himself back onto the train as it was already chugging slowly backward. There went my last chance of ever returning home. I got into the car, Cillian closing the door and getting into the passenger seat ahead of me. He twisted to look at me. "Welcome to the West, Gemma Brooks. I hope you like dust."