I hesitated, then shook my head. "I'll just read the report. I really need to go home, grab a shower, then rest."

His gaze swept me, and his voice was wry as he said, "Oh, I don't know. Bloodstained blue silk looks quite fetching on you."

And if I didn't watch it, that would be all my life contained. Bloodstains. On my skin, in my soul. I forced a smiled then walked away, Quinn by my side.

I raised a hand to cut the glare of the sun as we walked out of the building, pausing on the front step as I looked down the street. My car was still parked where I'd left it.

I squinted down to the other end of the street but couldn't see Quinn's car. "Where's your car parked?"

"A few streets over. I abandoned it when I felt you slipping too fast." He bent to kiss me, his lips still cool on mine. "I'll be right behind you within a minute."

"It's not like I'm going to pass out while I'm driving," I said. "I'm really not that weak."

He smiled, and lightly touched my nose. "You lie, Riley Jenson, but I appreciate the effort."

With that, he turned and walked away. I watched him for several seconds, enjoying the lithe, economical way he moved, then turned and headed for my car.

Within minutes I'd joined the steady flow of traffic heading for the city. Quinn's black Porsche was three cars behind me.

We were on Queens Road, cruising past Albert Park, when I saw the truck. It was on the other side of the road and driving way too fast, its movements erratic, swiping the cars that were trying to get out of its way and sending them spinning into others.

I edged over into the other lane, hoping that would keep me out of harm's way. After surviving a silver bullet, the last thing I wanted was to be mown down by a goddamn truck.

I couldn't see any cops behind the truck, but they surely couldn't be too far away. The driver was obviously high on either drugs or alcohol, and someone would have reported him by now.

He drew closer, but the sheer height of the cab and the darkened windows made it almost impossible to see the driver. He was little more than a dark shadow, and for some reason, the small hairs on the back of my neck rose.

Which was ridiculous.

He was just another idiot in the grip of some form of substance abuse or this was his idea of fun driving. I'd seen plenty like him before, and I had no doubt I'd see plenty in the future.

And yet something suddenly felt wrong.

I watched him draw closer, my fingers tense on the wheel. The truck swerved away from my side of the road and, for an instant, I felt safe.

But I'd barely relaxed my grip when the truck's tires squealed and the huge grille suddenly filled my vision. I cursed and ripped the wheel sideways as I hit the gas pedal. The car half spun as it surged forward and the truck hit the rear, smashing me into a lamppost. The impact flung me about violently and the side airbags popped, catching my head before it could hit the window. Metal crumpled as the passenger side of the car bent around the post.

We'd barely come to a standstill when another car hit us head-on. It tore my car away from the pole and sent it skidding backward, the windshield shattering under the impact and spraying me with glass. For a moment I couldn't see anything, my vision filled with white bags and the steam erupting from my engine. I eased up on the gas pedal, but it didn't make a damn bit of difference. I reached forward and turned the key, shutting the engine off. Moisture ran down the side of my face as I moved, stinging my eyes. I swiped at it irritably, and my fingers came away bloody. I hadn't even felt a bump to the head.

Over the groaning of metal and the hiss of escaping steam came the deep-throated growl of the truck's engine. The driver was still moving, still finding targets. And Quinn's car had been three behind mine.

Fear surged and for a moment I couldn't even breathe. Then I grabbed the handle and flung the door open. In my haste to get out I forgot the seat belt and it snapped tight, almost choking me.

I cursed, undid the thing, then climbed out. The road was awash with wrecked vehicles and dazed people getting out of cars. Ahead, the truck had found another victim. A black car had been turned onto its side, and the truck was hitting it again and again, rolling it over and over. There was blood on the windshield, and the back half of the car was crumpled almost beyond recognition. No one could survive such a mess ...

Suddenly, what I was seeing hit.

That black car belonged to Quinn.

"No!" The scream was wrenched from my throat. I flung myself past the door and ran down the road. I couldn't lose him as well. Not like this. Not in some stupid, senseless act of violence ...

Something sharp hit my arm and I stumbled, whacking against the road hard, skinning my hands and knees in the process and grunting in pain.

I swiped at the thing in my arm and realized it was a dart. A goddamn hunting dart. "What the fuck?"

I reached for it, but my vision was suddenly blurry. The dart became two, then three, then all of them danced away. I swore and tried to get to my feet, tried to keep running, to get to Quinn and to stop the truck, but my legs wouldn't obey me.

The world was spinning; my mind was spinning. Everything was going around and around, until I just wanted to throw up.

"Well, what have we got here?" The voice was rich and somewhat arrogant. It was also far too familiar.

Blake.

The Alpha of the red pack. The man who'd made my childhood hell. The wolf who'd sworn revenge for the humiliation I'd dished out to him not so long ago.

Kye had warned me Blake was planning his vengeance, and yet despite that, I just hadn't expected he'd act this soon.

He moved toward me, his bulk filling my vision and his gait oddly erratic. Like something was wrong with one of his legs and he couldn't put much weight on it.

"You'd better hope you haven't killed the man in that black car," I croaked, blinking desperately to gain some clarity in my vision.

God, I just wanted to close them. To rest.

I jerked them open instead. There were fading bruises and almost-healed scratches all over his face, an indication he'd been in some sort of accident recently.

Shame he didn't die in it, my inner wolf snarled. It would have saved me the trouble.

Though I couldn't help wondering what had happened - and whether it had been an accident, or someone's attempt at retribution.

"Oh, he's dead, have no doubt of that," Blake said. "The car doesn't even resemble a vehicle anymore."

Fear leapt into my throat, my heart. I didn't want to believe him, but I couldn't feel Quinn. Not in my mind, not in my heart.

He couldn't be dead.

He couldn't.

Boots invaded my vision. Shiny brown boots. I swiped a hand across my eyes and forced my head up. Past the boots and the medical uniform, until Blake's blunt features swam into view. His silver eyes glinted with pleasure and his expression was victorious.

"I will kill you, Blake." Though the words were shouted inside my head, they came out as little more than a croak. "And if I don't, the Directorate will."

"Oh, the Directorate can only legally kill me if I kill you. And I don't actually intend to kill you. That would be too easy. The person I intend to kill will be someone else entirely."

Which made absolutely no sense. I licked my lips. The sick fear churning my gut seemed to be sweeping through the rest of me, sapping my energy. My arms and legs were quivering with the effort of holding me upright, and it was all I could do to not collapse.

"Don't you dare go near Rhoan," I spat, "or I'll fucking erase you and every one of your goddamn sons from this earth."

"Oh, I have no intention of killing him. Him being unable to find or save his sister will be punishment enough."

He gave me another sharklike smile. "And you, my dear wolf, won't even remember who you care for, let alone who I am. Hell, you're not even going to remember who you are. I bid you farewell, Riley Jenson. I hope you enjoy the week you have remaining - but I very much doubt you will."

And with that, my world went black.

Chapter 7

Waking was an abrupt and ugly process. Sensations flooded my mind, overwhelming and confusing and, most of all, painful.

My body burned, my skin burned, my head burned. Everything hurt. My back, my legs, my arms, my face. Even my goddamn brain.

It felt like someone had strung me up and used me as a punching bag. A bag that now lay abandoned and forgotten.

I lay on my back, and the surface beneath me was sandy and hot. It stuck to my skin, grinding like sandpaper, itching and hurting all at the same time.

The air was also heated, and ripe with flavors that were strange and oddly exciting. There was a vastness to the air, an emptiness, as if I were lying somewhere that held nothing and nobody except me and the burning earth.

I tried to open my eyes and discovered I couldn't. I frowned and lifted a hand. My arm felt heavy, tired. My fingertips, when I brushed my face, felt nothing, although the lack of sensation did not apply to the hand as a whole. Frown deepening, I switched hands. Felt the dry stickiness caking my eyes.

Blood.

There was blood on my face.

Why was there blood on my face?

I didn't know, and that scared me far more than the burning in my body and brain.

I rubbed the blood away and forced my eyelids open. The sky above me was blue. A deep rich blue from which the sun burned brightly.

That's why my skin burned. I was getting burned.

I twisted my head, looking for cover. The land stretched out before me, filled with sandy red hills and scrubbylooking plants. It seemed totally empty of any other sort of life.

How the hell did I get here?

I didn't know. I really didn't know.

Fear swirled, briefly catching in my throat and making it hard to breathe. I forced it away. I could worry about the hows and whys later. Right now, I needed to find myself some shade or I wasn't going to survive much longer.

And I didn't want to die. I'd followed that path once before, and though it had been tempting, in the end it had not been for me.

I frowned at the thought, not really understanding it and too damn worried about the here and now to chase it.

I forced myself upright. If I thought my body had been aching before, then that one action proved just how wrong I'd been. God, it hurt. Fiercely. Brutally. Tears stung my eyes and fell down my cheeks, mingling with a warmer liquid that seemed to be running down the side of my face.

More blood.

And not just on my face.

My torso was a mass of bruises and cuts. There was an ugly, half-healed wound on my shoulder, abrasions scattered across my skin, a massive yellowing bruise stretching from under my breast down to my hip, and my knees were cut and scabby.

Had someone used me as a punching bag? Right now, it sure as hell felt like it. But if they had, how had I ended up here, in the middle of goddamn nowhere?

I didn't know. Not anything. The ache in my brain seemed to be all-consuming, and nothing was getting past it. Nothing except pain and the need to find shelter before the sun burned me to a crisp.

I lightly hugged my knees with my arms and stared at the landscape around me. Hill after red hill. Few trees, no houses, no cars, and certainly no people.

There weren't even footprints in the earth. How I'd gotten here was anyone's guess. Hell, I might have been dropped from the sky for all I knew. But sitting here wondering how I'd gotten into this situation rather than doing something about it wasn't going to stop my skin from getting redder.

I braced my hands against the warm, sandy soil and pushed upright. Every part of me protested the movement, and I ached with a ferocity I wouldn't have thought possible. Sweat broke out anew across my forehead, and my breath hissed past gritted teeth. But I forced my sore knees to lock and made it upright.

Just.

I stood there, wavering, for several seconds. Or maybe it was the landscape around me that was wavering. I couldn't have said for certain.

Taking another swipe at the sweat and blood dribbling down the side of my face, I resolutely focused my gaze on a lone gum tree and headed toward it.

Luckily for me, the soles of my feet were fairly tough - in fact, I think they were the only bits of me that weren't aching - and the heated earth, sharp stones, and barbed scrubby bushes didn't do much to hinder my progress.

It took about an hour to finally reach the shade. The sun seemed to be hotter even though it was clearly late afternoon, but the minute the dappled light of the tree caressed my skin, the relief from the burning was almost instantaneous. I sighed and, for a moment, closed my eyes, fighting the urge to sit down, to rest.

If I sat, I might not get up. It would be easy to die in a place like this.

I don't intend to kill you, whispered a voice through the fog and the pain clouding my brain. That would be too easy.

I knew that voice, but I couldn't name it. Couldn't bring to mind an image of the man who spoke the words. Didn't know why he would want to put me in such a place, in such danger.

Why would someone want to dump me in the middle of nowhere? I was just ...

What was I? Who the hell was I?

I didn't know. Reach as I might, no information was getting through the fog.

Anger rose, and I swore softly, frustrated by the lack of memories and understanding.

Someone had put me here, that much was obvious. I couldn't have gotten here any other way, unless I could fly.

The thought made me pause.

Could I fly?

I frowned, uncertain. It seemed right, and yet wrong. Like it was something I could do even if it wasn't something I was born to, wasn't something that was a part of my soul.

But what was my soul?

Hunter, hunter, sleek red hunter. The chant ran gently through my subconscious and memories surfaced - me, being chased by a boy with wild red hair and bright gray eyes. A boy who sang the child's chant moments before he slipped from human to wolf form and pounced.