life and death.
Only, this time, it wasn’t his life that needed saving.
God, he still remembered the first time he’d set eyes on Abigail Dawson. It had been summer in Trinity Grove, and the day had been unusually warm for northern Pennsylvania. He’d been pissed at Roux, and she’d been none too happy with him, either. They’d fought, and she’d broken his nose.
They both agreed he’d deserved it.
The first time he’d seen Abby, he’d lost his breath, and maybe his grip on reality, because he’d been positive he was staring at a ghost. For the briefest of moments, he’d been convinced he was looking at his baby sister. Everything about her, from her petite size to the way she wrinkled her nose when she found something distasteful reminded him of Madison Novak.
He’d spent most of that afternoon watching her…mesmerized by her. As he’d gotten to know her, he’d realized she had more in common with his sister than just physical appearance. For starters, she hadn’t been afraid to speak her mind, or put him in his place when he acted like an ass.
The more obvious similarity, however, had been their fierce and unshakable loyalty. Both Abby and Maddy stood by the people they cared about, unwavering, unmoving, even to their own detriment. Love and loyalty certainly hadn’t done either of them any favors.
When someone asked—and they always asked—Cade said his family had died in the Purge. In actuality, his dad had split sometime around Cade’s eighth birthday, and his mother had overdosed a decade before the release of the virus. Even before her death, she hadn’t exactly been a contender for Mother of the Year, which left him to take care of Maddy.
That had always been his job—look after his baby sister, teach her, protect her.
It was his job, and he’d failed.
“Fuck!” Miles Irati shouted from the driver’s seat as he gripped the steering wheel in both hands and slammed on the brakes.
Shaken from his morose stroll down memory lane, Cade planted both feet on the floor and gripped the armrest.
Tires screeched over the pavement as the SUV fishtailed down the highway, and the smell of burning rubber filled the cab. Time slowed, and every second seemed to drag out into eternity. Instinct had Cade tensing, preparing for the impact, but it never came. Instead, the vehicle shuddered to a halt mere inches from a stark-naked woman with glowing amber eyes.
Thank fuck for vampire reflexes and antilock brakes. Otherwise, they’d be scraping the female off the highway.
Behind him, Rhys and Thea edged forward to peer between the front seats. “What the hell?” Rhys asked. “What’s she doing?”
“Help.” The female outside the car lunged forward, slamming her hands down on the hood. “Please, help me.”
“Is that blood?” Thea Mendez shoved her mate out of the way and practically climbed into the front seat to get a better look. “Is that her blood?”
Forcing himself to look away from those wide, terrified eyes, Cade searched the female for signs of injury, and he didn’t like what he found. A mess of matted curls the color of fire cascaded over her shoulders, falling down her chest to cover her breasts. Yet, the wild mane couldn’t hide the multiple bruises, burns, and lacerations that covered her from neck to hips.
She hadn’t sustained those injuries by running through the woods. Someone had done that to her. Someone had hurt her.
“Why isn’t she healing?” he asked, his gaze going to the deep cut on the side of her neck. “She’s paranormal, right?” He still couldn’t tell the difference between shifters and werewolves, but judging by the inner glow of her eyes, he guessed she was one or the other.
“Werewolf,” all three of his companions answered in unison.
Considering he was the only human in the car, he didn’t bother asking how they knew. “Do we help her?”
Every muscle in his body vibrated with the need to leap out of the SUV and rush to her aid, but in their new world, nothing was ever as black and white as it appeared. She could be Coalition, or part of a rogue werewolf pack. It could be, and probably was a ruse designed to deceive them.
“She’s not healing,” he repeated when no one answered him. For some reason, that really bothered him. “Is she sick?”
Rhys Lockwood cursed under his breath. “She’s weak from blood loss, and she looks like she hasn’t eaten in a while.” Sighing, he dropped back into his seat. “I know the look well.”
“Please!” the female yelled as