Read Online Pride's Run by Cat Kalen - Free Book Online

face.
    The driver shifts in his seat and hands me a
file. Since he knows how well I can see in the dark he doesn’t
bother to flick a light on. I lay the file on my lap and carefully
peel it open. The first thing I notice is the swatch of material
provided, the second thing is the mark. My wolf gives a little
yelp, but I try not to show any sort of emotion as I stare at the
photo. It becomes painfully apparent why they needed a young,
fresh-faced girl for this job—or at least a wolf who can pass
herself off as one. My mark is just a boy, merely a couple years
older than me.
    My heart sinks a little and my stomach turns
inside out as I commit his features to memory. He doesn’t look like
any drug lord I’ve ever tracked before. I take a good long sniff of
the swatch and place it back in the file before I close it. Taking
extra care to harden my features, I hand it back.
    The truth is, it makes me sick to my stomach
to think the master is hunting someone so young. I can’t imagine
what he might want with him, or worse, what he might do to him. But
I do console myself with the knowledge that the boy will have a
fighting chance to flee, because this time, I have no intention of
following the master’s orders.
    Just thinking about running has a fresh wave
of anxiety rushing over me. My fingers instinctively go to my neck,
and I feel the microchip planted below my skin.
    Despite the cool temperature outside, sweat
beads on my forehead and I inconspicuously wipe my brow. I know I
have to maintain protocol and keep suspicion off me until I can
break free, so I take a moment to go over the instructions that
were carefully drilled into me this morning. Using feminine
appeal—not that I think I have a whole lot of that—I’m to flirt
with the mark and lure him to the car, where I’m to then hand him
off to the bodyguards. I’m only to call on my wolf if he gets
suspicious and tries to run.
    Then the rules change.
    I’m an excellent tracker, and it won’t take
my wolf long to find him. Once captured, I’m to lead him back. If
he resists, I attack. Not to kill him, just enough to scare him and
draw him out of the woods. Once my wolf gets the taste of blood,
however, it can be hard to marshal her, especially when she’s
hungry. I guess that’s why the master fed me so well this
morning.
    I wipe my palms on my jeans before the
bodyguard opens the door to let me out. I cringe against the
overhead light as he glances around to make sure the coast is
clear. Once he’s satisfied, he climbs out and gestures for me to
follow. I slide across the leather and inhale the night air as I
firmly plant my feet on the wet pavement. Hard rain slaps my cool
skin and a big fat drop lands on my tongue as I glance skyward.
    I’m grateful that it’s raining because it’s
always harder for the handlers to track us wolves in wet weather.
If the rain slows them down enough perhaps I can lose them by
running long and hard and putting a great deal of distance between
us. Or perhaps the heavy rain will cause static and interfere with
the microchip’s radio frequency. Hope fills me, but I keep it from
my face.
    From the front seat, the handler shoves a
raincoat into my hands. “Keep yourself presentable,” he says.
    I shuffle into the coat and pull the hood up
to keep my hair dry and my makeup from spilling down my face. A
quick nod to my bodyguard lets him know I’m ready.
    I step ahead, shift into character by
pretending to be an innocent seventeen-year-old girl, and make my
way to the front entrance. The bodyguard remains a few feet back
and we pretend we don’t know each other.
    As I approach the wooden door, my glance
keeps wandering to the distant mountains scattered through the
Olympic National Park. My wolf stirs, wanting that kind of freedom.
In search of an escape, I scent the air and can almost smell the
earthy ground and fresh pine trees. My ears perk and catch the
sound of the water rushing down the rocky embankments. As the