Chapter 18: The Delivery
Natalie~
My legs felt like jelly as I stumbled after the masked man, my breath hitching with every step. The image of Timothy's massive wolf form crumpling to the ground replayed in my mind, each detail vivid and terrifying. This man—this stranger—had taken down Timothy with a single blow. What could he do to me? The thought made my stomach churn. My instincts screamed at me to run, but I knew better. One wrong move and he might crush me just as effortlessly.
The alley gave way to the bustling city streets, but the life around me felt like an illusion. People moved about, cars honked, and streetlights blinked, yet no one paid attention to the masked man leading a trembling girl through the crowd. I scanned faces desperately, hoping someone would notice my silent plea for help. Nothing. No one even glanced my way.
When we stopped beside a sleek black car, my pulse quickened. He opened the passenger door and gestured for me to get in. "In," he said, his deep voice as commanding as ever.
I hesitated, my heart hammering in my chest. "W-Where are we going?" I stammered, my voice sounding sheepish.
"Get in," he repeated, this time more firmly.
A lump formed in my throat. I imagined his hand snapping out, dragging me in by force, just as he had handled Timothy. Swallowing hard, I climbed into the seat, the soft leather cold against my skin.
The man rounded the car and slid into the driver's seat. As the engine roared to life, I instinctively reached for the door handle, considering escape. But the thought of his inhuman strength kept me frozen as he drove off.
The dashboard clock read 10:35 PM, but the entire city was alive, buzzing with lights and sounds. Neon signs flashed outside the window, advertising everything from bars to theaters. Music blared faintly from somewhere nearby, mixing with the hum of traffic and the chatter of pedestrians.
It was so different from the quiet town Zane brought me from or the controlled life of my former pack. Here, people seemed to move freely, unburdened by the rigid rules I'd grown up with. For a moment, I almost forgot about the man beside me. Almost.
I stole a glance at him, his mask giving nothing away. His posture was relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on his lap. He didn't speak, didn't even glance my way, and yet his presence filled the small space between us, making the air feel heavy. I wanted to ask who he was, why he was doing this, but fear clamped my lips shut.