Wolf's Hunger (Mafia Monsters #5) - Atlas Rose Page 0,68
turned back to the other night, to when I’d seen Vitold and realized they’d put a tracker on me. I’d slept that night, but in the morning, I found the damn thing embedded under the skin of my upper arm.
I hadn’t noticed it before, not after they’d taken me from the hospital that night, still drowsy, and drove me to their ‘safe house’. I should’ve known there was nothing safe there, should’ve known they were using me to lure my pack into the city before they sprung their trap.
I turned my arm and glanced at the tiny scab underneath. I’d missed it. I couldn’t believe I’d missed it. Then again, I’d missed a lot of things in the days after I returned. I closed my eyes for a second as the elevator sank.
I was changed—my Wolves had changed me—I snapped open my eyes as the elevator came to a halt. I was a Wolf with no pack…alone, desperate, hunting for the one thing that made me feel whole. Them.
I glanced at the keys, found the license plate imprinted on the keyring tag, and scanned the vehicles, stopping at a pristine blue Ford. It was nicer than any other car they’d given me. So I hit the button and climbed inside before starting the engine.
Nice and steady. I glanced at the rear-view mirror as the elevator opened once more. But there was no one there. Not yet, at least. I wasted no time, backing out of the space and heading to the boom gate.
Beth-Anne wasn't there as I pulled into the lane, just one of the other guards. One who barely looked up from his magazine before he hit the button and the boom gate rose. “Suits me just fine,” I muttered, and signaled before pulling into the traffic.
Last time I’d seen Lenny, I was sure he’d tried to tell me what had happened that night. The image of Denzel Costello on the TV had triggered him. Now, armed with more information, I could finally piece it all together.
I drove the streets of the city like a damn zombie. There was no excitement, no flare of rage, just that constant aching throb in the middle of my chest. I rubbed at the pain and turned the wheel, making my way to the edge of the city, where Heather and Lenny waited.
Past fruit stalls…and flowers, until I passed familiar houses and pulled up out front. Fresh flowers sat outside the house. Still, it looked the same. I climbed out made my way to the tiny white gate, and opened it. My boots echoed loudly on the steps as I climbed to the porch.
The front door was closed. I pressed the doorbell and listened to the chime inside. A heartbeat later, Heather was there.
“Hey,” I smiled.
But she didn’t smile back.
Her face was drawn, dark circles under her eyes as she unlatched the screen door and pushed it open. “Carina. Come in.”
Something was different. Something was empty. “What’s going on?” I looked to the doorway and the living room before turning back to her.
“I tried to get in touch with you. The office said you were on leave, and they wouldn’t divulge your location.”
I stepped into the living room, finding vases filled with fresh flowers, so many vases…and condolence cards. “Oh no, Heather…” I shook my head and stepped deeper into the house.
“I’m sorry, Carina,” she murmured and reached out, placing her hand on my arm. “I tried. I really tried.”
I closed my eyes and lowered my head, squeezing my fists at my sides.
“Your father came to the funeral, still as stubborn and as cold as he’s always been,” she whispered as tears slipped from the corners of my eyes. I’d cried more in these past few weeks than I had in my entire life.
“But Lenny left something for you. A letter, sealed so I wouldn’t open it. But it’s addressed to you.”
I opened my eyes at the words and met her gaze.
“I found it when I was cleaning out his things. Wait a second, let me go find it.”
Her hand slipped from my arm as she left the kitchen and strode through the living room before disappearing down the hall. I followed her into the living room and glanced at all the familiar things. I could almost picture Lenny here, could almost hear his gasps and wheezes. I could almost see his sheep’s eyes still brimming with life, almost feel his desperation as he’d tried to tell me about Denzel Costello.