Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
She flashed me a quick smile and disappeared into the kitchen again.
I ate slowly, savoring every bite. Generosity wasn’t something I ran into often. For a few minutes, sitting in a warm diner with real food in front of me, I didn’t feel quite so invisible.
I slid off the stool once my plate was empty, my stomach warm in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.
Sharon caught my eye as I reached for my wallet. “You don’t need to—”
“I know.” I pulled out a five-dollar bill and set it on the counter anyway. “Please.”
She frowned, her gaze flicking to the empty plate. “That was just—”
“Kindness,” I finished quietly. “Which I appreciate more than you can know.”
For a moment, she looked like she might argue. Then she sighed and nodded once, like she understood this wasn’t really about the food.
“All right. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“So do I.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder and offered her a small smile. “Thank you. Really.”
She waved as I headed for the door, and the bell jingled behind me as I stepped back out into the cold.
I was full for the first time in days, but it didn’t make leaving any easier.
My hands rested on the steering wheel while I sat in my car with the engine off. A year ago, I hadn’t even had this.
Every spare dollar I’d earned had gone toward this crappy beater. I had worked awful shifts, picked up doubles, and smiled at people who barely paid attention to me. I’d slept in youth hostels when I could, cheap motels when I couldn’t, and the back seat when I ran out of options.
The car wasn’t much. It rattled if I went over sixty and made a concerning noise every time I turned it off. But it was mine. It gave me more freedom than I’d ever had before.
Exhaustion settled deep in my bones as I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel. Not the kind of tired a good night’s sleep could fix. Always having to be careful was more draining than anyone would ever guess.
I straightened after a moment and started the engine.
I could rest later.
Right now, I needed to find somewhere safe to spend the night.
The gas light blinked on, not even a mile from the diner.
I swore under my breath and eased off the accelerator, watching the needle hover stubbornly a few tick marks above empty like it was daring me to push my luck. I checked my cheap, prepaid phone at the next stoplight and groaned when I saw I had only one bar of service.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, rain began to tap against the windshield. The mountains ahead disappeared behind a curtain of gray, and the temperature dropped enough that I cranked the heat up.
I knew I couldn’t stay in town overnight. There were too many No Overnight Parking signs. I couldn’t afford the ticket or the tow. And sleeping in a car where someone might notice was never a good call.
I needed a spot that was quiet and out of the way.
I drove until the buildings thinned and the road narrowed, following a turnoff that looked barely used. The pavement gave way to packed dirt, and my tires crunched softly as I slowed.
Signs were posted—something about construction access and authorized vehicles. But they were half hidden by brush, and nobody was around.
The rain picked up, drumming harder against the roof as I pulled off to the side where the ground flattened just enough to park.
I shut off the engine and sat there for a moment, listening to it tick as it cooled.
Just one night. That was all I needed. A dry, quiet place to sleep until morning. I’d move on as soon as the sun came up.
I climbed into the back seat, tugged my blanket around my shoulders, and snagged my book from my backpack. I’d read until the light faded, then pile on extra clothes to make sure I stayed warm while I slept.
I didn’t notice how still the forest had gone. Or that I’d chosen a spot that was about to change everything.
2
GARNER
Pre-dawn light filtered through the trees as I prowled the perimeter of the construction site, my senses alert. The world had been washed clean by last night’s storm. Rain clung to pine needles and soaked into the earth, making any lingering scents more noticeable.
This was my favorite time of day—when I could let my cougar free without worrying about being spotted. My muscles ate up the ground in long, silent strides. My paws sank into damp soil without a sound. Powerful and controlled. Exactly as I was meant to be.
This wasn’t a patrol I had to think about. My body knew the route as well as my mind did. Every rise and dip of the land, boundary marker, and place where trouble might try to creep in if I wasn’t watching.