Chapter 80: She Robbed the Wrong Men on Purpose

Her head lolls against Thorne’s shoulder. Her arms slip from around his neck, falling limp at her sides.

"Fuck," Edrik breathes, barely audible, slamming his free hand over his own mouth to stifle whatever sound wants to come out of him next, because Dove is still lying right there, unconscious or not, and some shred of decency left in him refuses to let him be that loud.

His back arches off the thin mattress. Heat floods up his spine, white-hot and consuming, and his release spills hot over his knuckles and down onto the blanket bunched at his hip, spurt after spurt, his whole body shaking with the force of it, muffled curses and broken sounds caught behind his own palm. He rides it out in silence except for the ragged, wet gasps dragging in and out of him through his nose, eyes screwed shut, every muscle in his body locked tight.

When it finally passes, he lies there boneless, chest heaving, sweat cooling on his skin, utterly wrung out and faintly disgusted with himself in the particular way that only comes after.

Later, with the lamp turned down and the room quiet, Dove settled under their blanket. Thorne kissed her forehead before taking the next watch, and Edrik moved his chair nearer the landing where he could hear the stairs.

Before sleeping, she caught Edrik looking at the place her hand rested on Thorne’s chest. He didn’t resent her mate. He looked hungry for the same easy invitation. When she told him good night, using his name, his smile arrived so quickly that she lay awake thinking about it.

At dawn, Edrik returned from checking the south road while Thorne packed. His arm moved more easily than yesterday, but his expression had gone still in a way Dove now recognized.

Someone had dragged a chain across the road between the maintenance buildings south of the garage. Fresh boot tracks led into the empty buildings on either side.

Edrik pointed through the upstairs window while Dove stayed back from the glass. The south road ran between two empty maintenance buildings before reaching the orchard turnoff. Someone had stretched a chain across it, with fresh tracks disappearing through an open doorway.

"We aren’t going that way," Dove said, pulling their map across the table. "If they wanted visitors, they should’ve tried a sign that didn’t scream murder." She checked the farm road instead of waiting for either man to decide where she belonged.

A garage guard showed them a farm road behind the yard. It curved through the orchard and rejoined the pavement beyond the buildings. Dove traced it on her map, checking where they would pass the old produce warehouse before putting the paper inside her coat.

Day Thirty-Three began with her usual pool-water wash and three folding stools from Sprout. Selling two would pay twelve normal coins. Five fresh Favor unlocked a twenty-four-coin insulated food carrier. She needed three new stored finds and fifteen active minutes for the separate exercise reward. Neither task required her to attempt it during a fight.

"Could you send a helicopter instead?" she asked. "An ugly one would be fine. I’m willing to lower my standards for anything that flies."

Sprout refused to change the stock. She left the stools stored, with thirty-nine normal coins and nine hundred twelve Favor. She finished her egg-and-ham sandwich while Thorne packed the others. They could find customers after leaving the men who apparently preferred stealing to getting dressed for work.

Thorne ate before shifting. Dove checked Edrik’s healing arm, then made him promise to tell her if carrying his lighter bag hurt. "I’ll tell you," he said. "You can stop inspecting me like you intend to return me." She tugged his coat closed and told him that depended on how annoying he became.

They took the orchard road with her on Thorne’s back and Edrik walking beside them. The warehouse appeared between bare trees, its concrete loading dock facing a gravel driveway. Empty pallets stood about twenty feet from the steps, with a metal equipment bin beside them.

A man stepped from behind the pallets and raised a handgun. Dove recognized what it was before the first shot cracked across the yard, so loud that she lost the breath she had been taking.

Thorne lunged behind the loading dock. Edrik dragged a discarded steel door across the gap beside its steps, his palm pressed flat against it. Something struck the metal with a hard clang, and a pale sheen flashed beneath his hand. His power held the steel firm, but his jaw tightened with the effort.

Dove slid onto the ground behind the concrete wall. The door only covered the open side, and she stayed low enough that the dock hid her from the gunman. Avoiding one trap had put them beside the men watching its back entrance.

"Leave your packs," the gunman called. "The woman can stay and explain why she needs so much protection."

"Because apparently buying a gun doesn’t come with a fucking personality," she shouted. Her hands shook as she pulled out the slingshot, which spoiled the impressive version of herself she had hoped he was imagining.

A gray-eared panther came around the loading steps with a machete. Behind him, another man shed his coat and clothes behind a pallet stack. A gray wolf burst from the other side, claws skidding on the gravel, while a fourth attacker followed with a knife.

Thorne shifted behind the concrete and pulled on his packed clothes while Edrik held the gap. Dove fired a pellet when the gunman leaned past his pallets. It caught his cheek, sending him back with a shout. She ducked before his next shot struck the dock above her.

The machete hit the metal step rail. Thorne caught the trapped blade against it and pressed his palm to the steel. It bent, dragging the attacker’s grip sideways before he let go. Thorne drove him back, then pulled the rolling cargo gate across the side approach. One touch twisted its latch shut in front of the wolf and the man with the knife.

The gray panther grabbed the latch from outside. Metal creaked under his hand, slowly bending back, but he had barely straightened one edge when Thorne pressed it crooked again. The stranger staggered away, panting; Thorne still had breath to tell Dove to keep down.

"Panthers share metal shaping, but not his strength," Sprout told her. "Please admire your mate after the shooting stops."

Dove would have argued if she hadn’t been busy wishing the man with the gun would swallow it. Edrik glanced at the bent latch before returning his attention to the opening, clearly noticing how little the work had slowed Thorne.

The gunman fired again, then swore at his empty weapon. He crouched beside the equipment bin and lifted its lid. Dove glimpsed ammunition boxes and tools before he turned back toward their cover, keeping the pistol raised while he reached behind him.

"You could retrieve the bin," Sprout said. "From here, it will drain you badly. Tell them first."

She told Edrik what she wanted gone, keeping her back against the concrete. Thorne heard and nodded, warning her to wait until the gunman’s hand was clear. She watched him turn toward a noise at the gate, his fingers lifting away from the lid.

Dove reached for the whole bin with her mind. For a horrible second, nothing moved. Then it vanished, and her knees folded beneath her before she could enjoy the gunman’s expression.

He stared at the empty patch of gravel. Edrik advanced behind the reinforced door while the man dropped his empty pistol and grabbed a knife. Dove heard a brief cry and saw the knife fall. The man went down behind the pallets, and Edrik returned without looking sorry.

Thorne caught her against the loading step. Her stomach rolled, and she gripped his wrist because the ground felt much farther away than it should have.

"I got their stupid box," she whispered. "Please tell me that was a very important stupid box."

"It was," he said, kissing her hair before looking toward the gate. Outside it, the gray panther had found a crowbar. He forced its end through the frame while the wolf snarled beside him, and Dove heard the latch begin to give.

Edrik wedged the steel door beside the steps and let go, ending the reinforcing glow. Ordinary metal remained, with the concrete dock still between them and the yard. Thorne nodded toward Dove, and the bear gathered her carefully against his chest. Her mate drew his knife just as the gate scraped open far enough for a gray hand to reach through.