N. Walters - Finding Chrissten

He didn’t see her at first. There was nothing here except a bundle of rags on the floor in the far corner. He took a second look. The rags were moving.

Quinn arrowed in on the mound and went straight to it. “Chrissten?” His voice was soft, almost fearful.

The bundle moved slightly. Quinn swooped in and scooped her into his arms, burying his face against her. He stood slowly, took a deep breath and strode out of the room and into the hallway.

As he passed by, Hank strained to get a better look. He wanted to reach out and touch a lock of dirty blond hair that had escaped the bundle. It was Chrissten.

Hank could hear her labored breathing. One of her arms slipped from beneath the blanket covering her. It was mottled with dirt and bruises.

He wanted to howl and roar and kill. A red haze filled his vision and he growled low in his chest. His fingers itched to touch her. His arms ached to hold her. He wanted to be the one carrying Chrissten out of her prison. He swallowed back his fury, vowing to track down Brian and kill him like the rabid dog he was. That was something he could do. Hank would set Chrissten free of that monster if it was the last thing he did.

He followed closely behind as Quinn carried his sister up the stairs and out of the building. The others were quiet, except for Bethany, who was crying softly. No one said anything about Damek not being with them on the trip back. They trusted him to get whatever information he could and handle the doctor in whatever fashion he saw fit.

Quinn loaded himself and his sister into the SUV. It took all Hank’s restraint not to push his way into the vehicle. He wanted, no needed, to be next to her, to assure himself she was all right.

He’d have to wait. Right now all that mattered was her safety. Plus, he didn’t think Quinn would be very understanding if he ripped his sister from his arms. Hank kept his eye on the SUV as it sped through the last of the night. Dawn was almost breaking by the time they reached Haven.

Chrissten heard a voice calling her name. She frowned, recognizing the voice. The floor wasn’t as hard as it usually was. No, that wasn’t right.

Everything was a muddle. She’d thought she’d heard someone outside her cell. Someone she knew. Someone she recognized. His scent. That was it. She’d recognized his dark, musky scent and had called out to him.

But he hadn’t answered.

A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and trailed down her face.

“Don’t cry, baby, I’ve got you.”

Chrissten blinked. She was hallucinating again. Had to be. She hadn’t heard her twin in so long. He sounded different. Older. Tired. She turned her head slightly and there he was. But it wasn’t exactly like Quinn. His hair was longer too. That wasn’t right.

“Your hair is long.”

She heard a laugh that sounded more like a sob and turned her head to see who was laughing at her. The man looked like an older version of her younger brother. It was Craig, but not the Craig she remembered.

“You’re old.” That’s not what she meant to say. She meant to say older, but it took a lot of energy for her to speak.

“I feel old,” he told her. He placed his hand on her forehead, leaned down and kissed her cheek. “We’ve got you, sis. You’re going to be fine.”

“Craig?” It really was her brother with his wire-rimmed glasses, sandy brown hair and tender smile.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Quinn?” Where was her twin?

“Right here, Chris. I’m right here.” He was the only one who called her Chris, insisting that he’d wanted a twin brother not a sister. Not that she believed that for one second. They’d always been incredibly close.

It was his arms cradling her. It was his lap she was sitting on. Not the cold floor. Not her prison cell. She was free.

“Is this real?” She was almost afraid to believe it. Wasn’t sure it wasn’t all just a dream or a hallucination brought on by her failing body.

“It’s real.” She recognized the voice and the face that belonged to it. Bethany Morris leaned over her, a smile on her face. “I told you I’d come back for you.”

Chrissten could sense they were moving. They must be in a vehicle. There were other people here too. Two more. She could smell them, a male and a female, and they were werewolves.

She started to panic. Were her brothers and Bethany in danger? She thrashed around, trying to sit up so she could see. She had to protect her family.

“Shhh. Stop it, Chris. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

She grabbed Quinn’s arm, she had to make him understand. “Danger.” She sniffed the air again. Why couldn’t he smell them? Damn, she hated the weakness pulling at her limbs, at her mind.

“No, you’re safe. The other people in the vehicle are friends. Do you understand? No one is going to hurt you anymore.”

As long as her brothers were safe she didn’t care. She was afraid she wasn’t going to make it. She felt as though she already had one foot out of this world and into the afterlife. Everything seemed to be filtered though a gauzy curtain. She was here but not here.

She sniffed again. Where was the dark, musky scent? The one she associated with safety? Had she imagined it?

“Where is he?” The words were little more than a whisper in spite of the energy she put behind them. Everything was difficult for her, even something as simple as talking. But she needed to know, needed to find out if the male was real.

A gentle hand pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “You don’t need to worry about anything.” Quinn’s voice was low and soothing. “The doctor is no longer a threat and I’m not going to let anyone or anything hurt you ever again.”

Quinn hadn’t understood her question. He didn’t know who she was searching for. And she couldn’t tell him. She didn’t know either.

She heard his promise, but she heard more in the words he wasn’t saying. Brian was still alive. He was out there somewhere and he would be coming for her. She didn’t know if she had the strength to fight him. Maybe it would be better if she died. She was so tired of the battle.

Even as she thought it, a part of her rebelled. She was a fighter. Always had been. Always would be.

Her wolf whimpered and she struggled to reassure it. They would get stronger. They would hide until she was strong again. Then she would hunt Brian herself and kill him. It was the only way for her to ever truly be free.

The vehicle hit a bump, jolting her. She cried out as every ache in her body made itself known. The world around her dimmed and she let herself fall into the blackness. Quinn would keep her safe until she was strong enough to do it for herself.

As she drifted away from reality she thought she caught a whiff of the dark, tantalizing smell. She went searching for it in her mind but found only a void.

Hank sat on the floor in the corner of his bedroom, his back against the wall, and watched the bed. Chrissten was sleeping, but not soundly. Every few minutes she would whimper or mutter something he couldn’t quite make out.

He wanted to go to her and take her in his arms, promise to protect her from anyone and anything that wanted to harm her. Yeah, like that would go over well. She’d probably wake screaming and bring all the other males running.

Still, a guy could dream. He liked the idea of her lying in his bed, sleeping on his sheets, her head cradled by his pillow. Yeah, she belonged there. If he couldn’t hold her in his arms he could at least wrap her in his blankets.

Outside the city went on as normal. Cars and trucks sped up and down the street. People walked to and fro, all going somewhere in a hurry. Someone yelled in the distance. Music from the club two floors down vibrated the floorboards beneath him.