"Maddox." His name spilled from her lips like a prayer, thankful and praising.
"You can come out," he said, dropping down to his knees and offering her his hand. She grabbed onto it like a lifeline, and he pulled her out from under the crawlspace. She felt herself being lifted her feet and threw her arms around him.
His body felt warm and hard as always, but also wet and sticky. Hope stepped back and looked down at the thick red splotches on her clothes, then back up at Maddox in horror.
His face, his hands, his clothes—all of them were drenched in blood. More blood than anyone—beta or alpha—could stand to lose.
Hope felt her heart skip in fear. "Are you hurt? Were you shot? Are you—"
"I'm fine," Maddox assured her.
"But I heard a gunshot."
"He missed," Maddox said darkly. "It was the last mistake he ever made."
"So, he's…" Hope didn't know why but she couldn't bring herself to say the word. Even though the man had tried to kill her, even though he wouldn't have thought twice about spilling her blood, she still couldn't find joy in his death.
She'd seen more blood and death in the last two weeks than she could bear. There was nothing but grief in her heart over all of the carnage.
"There were two men this time," Maddox told her. "One on foot, and one with an ATV. I caught up with them about a mile into the forest."
Hope didn't need any more explanation. The fact that Maddox was alive and standing in front of her, that he was covered in another man's blood, told her everything she needed to know.
Those men had died. She and Maddox would live.
At least, for now.
Maddox must have sensed how unsteady she felt because he wrapped his arm around her waist to support as he led her away from the house…and toward the old truck at the side of the clearing.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To Evander's."
That bar he'd talked about yesterday? Had Maddox finally come to his senses and realized that they needed to get the beta cops involved? That none of this would end until justice—real justice—was served?
"Don't you want to wash the blood off?" she asked.
Maddox shook his head. The angry energy pouring off of him was focused and intense. His mind was set. "No time."
Hope was more than a little surprised when Maddox turned the ignition, and the engine sputtered to life. The truck was old, but more than that, it was neglected. It was obvious that he didn't use it often, so he probably didn't see the point of maintaining it.
She focused her prayers on keeping the old vehicle running as he headed down the drive. It was good to have something other than death and blood to keep her mind engaged.
"How long have you had this truck?" she asked as they turned on to the Central Road.
"Twelve years." That seemed to be his go-to answer for a lot of things. "I traded an old alpha a stack of pelts for it when I first came to the Boundarylands."
A smile played at Hope's lips at his response. It just sounded so much like something Maddox would do. She had no trouble imagining the young alpha in her mind, throwing down a pile of animal skins as payment for an ancient truck.
"I take it you don't go to town often," she said.
"There is no town, only Evander's," he said. "But no, I don't socialize much."
"Don't you ever get lonely?"
To her surprise, Maddox didn't immediately deny it. Instead, his expression darkened, and he focused on the road ahead of him.
"I learned a long time ago that people are more trouble than they're worth," he finally said. "You're better off without them."
Hope bit her lip. She understood what he was saying. She'd been there too.
There had been so many times before she'd left her parents and their church behind that she'd fallen into despair, believing that the darkness of her own world meant that there couldn't possibly be light anywhere.
It wasn't until she'd walked away from her pain that she'd learned to trust others again. That she'd gained enough inner strength to risk reaching out and making connections with others. It wasn't easy, and it didn't always go well.
There were still plenty of people in the world who were only too willing to let her down. But somewhere along the way, Hope had learned that she was strong enough to weather the disappointment.
"Some of them, sure," she agreed. "But not all."
Maddox answered with a noncommittal grunt.
Hope couldn't help wondering if she was included in his more trouble than they're worth assessment.
Probably.
Even though Maddox was showing signs of letting down his guard, even warming to her, he was obviously still annoyed by their connection. He seemed especially irritated by how much work it had taken to bring her back to health. By how she'd interrupted his routine and thrown his life into chaos.
Hope hadn't meant to. She sure as hell hadn't planned any of this. But it was her doing all the same.
"I'm sorry," she said, not bothering to explain why.
Maddox must have understood, though, because he gave another grunt, tightened his grip around the steering wheel, and pushed the accelerator down to the floor.
Hope didn't know what she'd been expecting from Evander's bar, but it didn't disappoint. The long, weather-worn building was everything she'd come to expect from the Boundarylands—sturdy, rustic, and simple. There was a porch that ran around the front and sides, and the parking lot was little more than a layer of gravel packed on top of the dirt. Other than the sign that hung on rusty hinges by the side of the road, there was nothing to call attention to the place.
Hope stayed close to Maddox's side as he jumped down from the truck and started for the entrance. She grabbed his arm as he entered the bar and waited for her
