War of Hearts (True Immortality) - S Young Page 0,19
pain.
If she thought she could get past Ashforth’s hired muscle and no doubt a supply of the drug, Thea would be tempted to stick around to teach the wolf a lesson about manners. Unfortunately, or fortunately, she was all about survival and escaping the wolf was her priority. Thea didn’t know how long she’d been knocked out or where the werewolf was taking her. Needing some idea of her surroundings, she risked opening one eye.
She was lying in the back of a small car with old black leather seats. The car smelled damp. Why did everywhere she went smell old and damp? For once she’d love to wake up somewhere literally smelling of roses. Or anywhere that didn’t smell like one huge, wet, dirty sponge.
Viewing the masculine profile in the front seat, Thea opened both eyes. Like the US, Poland drove on the right side of the road, and the werewolf was sitting in the driver’s seat on her left. He was mammoth in the small car, his dark hair brushing the top of the roof.
She couldn’t see his scar from this angle and yet he still looked formidable. It was the hard line of his jaw and the knifelike hilt of his cheekbones. She couldn’t see anything beyond his profile and the intimidating breadth of his shoulders because her own head pressed up against the right back passenger door.
The window framed gray skies, but that was all Thea could see from her position. She could sit up without making a noise; however, he’d see her out of his peripheral without the aid of hearing her move.
The car was so small it forced her knees to bend, her feet touching the door. If she hadn’t been dosed, Thea could’ve blasted the door off with one almighty shove. But she could still feel the drug. It was like a poison her healing abilities fought to overcome, slower than they combatted most things, but still, she’d win. Eventually.
For now, she was weak and unable to free herself from the car.
Thea would have to wait for the wolf to stop. She needed an opportunity where he turned his back, just long enough for her to run. Yes, she could run, escape. She was just in no shape to fight.
A shrill ringing made Thea jump. She slammed her eyes closed and forced her body to relax.
“Aye?” the deep timbre of the wolf’s voice caused her heart to race.
“I got your message.”
Ice slithered through Thea’s veins as Ashforth’s voice filled the car. For one frantic second, she thought he was here, in the passenger seat, until she fought through the panic. The phone was connected to the car. Ashforth was on speaker.
“Aye,” the werewolf repeated.
“You have her, then? She’s unconscious?”
A creak of leather sounded, and Thea swore she could feel the heat of the wolf’s eyes on her face. “Aye.” The creak sounded again. “You didnae tell me the drug would hurt the lass.”
The wolf sounded pissed.
Interesting.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking she’s just a girl, Conall,” Ashforth said, his anger evident. He was angry? What the hell did he have to be angry about? “She can handle a little pain.”
The vile, acrid taste of loathing filled her mouth. Ashforth was a murderous megalomaniac. One she should have put down years ago. Unfortunately, the bastard had the ability to reduce her to a terrified, traumatized teenager.
“It seemed more than a little,” the wolf called Conall replied. “How’s Callie?”
“Comfortable. Happy. James is with her. Where are you now?”
“Still in Poland. We’re not far from the border.”
“How many days will it take you?”
“I calculate we’ll be back in Scotland in three days.”
Scotland.
Ashforth was in Scotland?
Thea visualized the map of Europe, familiar with it after six years of traveling across it. If Conall was taking her to Scotland, then he was driving to Calais. They’d drive through Germany and France, take the boat from Calais to Dover, and then presumably drive up to Scotland.
No planes.
Ashforth must have warned the wolf that planes were a terrible idea around Thea.
“You’ve succeeded where others have not. You certainly live up to your reputation.” How smug and pleased Ashforth sounded. One day she’d kill him. But Thea would have to delay the inevitable a little longer.
“I’ll call you when we reach Calais, and I expect to talk to Caledonia.”
“Done.”
The conversation ended abruptly, and Thea sensed a thick tension from Conall. A feeling of resentment or anger—some negative feeling that had heightened the longer he spoke with Ashforth.