The Road to Wolfe (The Sanctuary Series Book 4) Read online

  I walk through the tree line and into the scrub brush, searching for more Primitive victims to take out my mood on. Killing them is both my reward and my penance. It gives me purpose. As I wander it becomes clear that the only Primitives in the area were the ones to attack my crew at the airplane.

  As Deacon pointed out, they’re becoming more and more organized. They're not just blindly attacking anymore but using some kind of strategy. Their strategies are still juvenile and ineffective, but if they continue on their current path, they might soon become a real threat to skilled warriors like us.

  It’s become my purpose in life to not just distribute the vaccine but to kill as many Primitives as I can get my knives and guns on. Once the vaccine has spread across the world and the last of the Primitives are killed, civilization can rise up again.

  When I return to the crash site, I tell my men to pack up. We’ll continue on, away from the airplane. Primitives are drawn to any signs of civilization, even dead civilization.

  I ride in the lead vehicle with Deacon at my side and Hugo, our map reader, in the back with Scarlett. Behind us is another car filled with five more team members. In total there are nine of us left. Yesterday we were eleven.

  As if sensing my mood, my companions fall silent, not speaking as we drive through what remains of the night.

  "How long until Santa Fe?" I twist in my seat to look at Hugo.

  He unfolds a map and looks at it, tracing his finger from our approximate position toward the Santa Fe Sanctuary.

  "Two days," he tells me.

  I don't respond. Two days. Two days until we find ourselves in the one Sanctuary city I've been dreading. The one I've been avoiding for a year.

  1 year earlier…

  Wolfe speaks, his voice calm and level despite the swirling emotion sizzling all around us. "You’re lying to yourself, woman. And as long as you lie to yourself, you lie to me, which I am now done with. I will leave here and you will come to find me when you are ready for the truth between us." He walks away from the tent, letting the flap fall into place behind him.

  "I don’t understand," I whisper to myself.

  But I’m lying.

  Five

  Wolfe

  "She's coming, Warlord."

  Without turning, I continue to look out the window across the landscape. I'm standing on top of one of the only tall buildings left intact after the Primitives razed the city one year ago, surveying my domain. The rebuild is coming along frustratingly slow.

  I told my people to watch for Skye, to tell me when she’s headed our way. I've been tracking her progress across the western part of the continent for the past several months as she distributes her vaccine. I knew eventually she would come here. So, I've waited.

  My hackles rise as the man behind me waits for an answer. I'm not sure what he’s waiting for as he's already imparted the necessary information.

  I don't like people. I don't have the patience for small talk. I'm no diplomat, which is why I've avoided any kind of position that might put me in a Warlord’s shoes. There had been plenty of opportunity in Santa Fe for me to depose warlord Silas and take his place. I hadn't. I preferred to be the muscle behind the throne.

  Until Skye.

  She'd arrived in Santa Fe as a young wide-eyed slave. At that point I finally questioned my position in life. As I was forced to watch Warlord Silas take the woman and add her to his harem, I had stood angrily by, questioning every decision that led up to that point. Had I been Warlord, the stunning brunette with the piercing grey eyes and the bad attitude would have belonged to me.

  But I'm not one to linger over lost opportunities. I play the long game. I'm an ugly motherfucker with an air of deadly violence that tends to put women off. So, I watched from a distance, protecting her back and allowing her to get to know me better as the Warlord’s second. At least if she didn’t like me, she’d know who I was. She’d be ready when I finally stepped up to stake my claim, stealing her from beneath the nose of her degenerate husband.

  But instead of taking over as I’d planned, I’d watched as Warlord Silas had become ill and it had seemed unsporting to contemplate deposing him when he only had a few short months left. At that point I’d decided to wait the other man out, allow him a dignified death that could only make me look better in the eyes of his prized wife. When the throne was finally free, I would step into it and made Skye my queen.

  That hadn't happened. Instead, Primitives had figured out how to cause nuclear power plants to meltdown across the continent. The Primitives had caused mass confusion among the humans, killing them and chasing them across the country. Santa Fe had suffered the same fate as every other Sanctuary east of us. I'd been forced to take Skye and as many citizens as we could and run, begging for Sanctuary in New Tucson.

  Now, I wait.

  She's coming to me. She'll find her way back home.

  Without turning, I say to my man, "Leave."

  Six

  Skye

  "We're almost there," Deacon says from beside me.

  I nod and pull my sawed-off shotgun out of its holster against my leg. "Everyone check your weapons."

  The car fills with the sound of shuffling and clicking as everyone checks their weapons. Fueling is one of the most dangerous things a human can do in a Primitive dominated world. Primitives figured out long ago that humans need fuel in order to travel. Thus, they often stake out fueling stations for attacks.

  Our team is getting close to the Santa Fe Sanctuary, less than a day out from our destination. The fuel station we chose is a relatively new one. After the Fall, fuel had been one commodity that’d been in abundance. Now that’s changing. Fuel has a shelf life; the older stuff has gone bad. This particular fuel station was built about 30 years after the Fall and is periodically restocked with new reserves coming in from fuel rich Sanctuaries.

  We heard a rumour that it’s been replenished recently, which makes it perfect for filling our vehicles, but a breeding ground for Primitives. I radio to the car behind us, instructing them to prepare for battle.

  "There they are." Deacon points out the window of the vehicle, his other hand gripping the steering wheel. There are three Primitives racing toward our vehicle, a gruesome and awkward herd of predators racing after its prey.

  "For a species that’re supposedly evolving some kind of smarts, they're still pretty stupid for running at us like that," Scarlett comments from the back seat, craning her neck to see them.

  "Don't underestimate them," I admonish her grumpily.

  I don't need my team getting lazy, deciding they can take down the Primitives with ease. Through skill and the vaccination, battling Primitives has indeed gotten easier, but that doesn’t mean they won’t tear a person apart if they get their hands on us.

  Scarlett decided to join our team when she realized that one of her Santa Fe harem sisters was leading it. When we lived together in the Santa Fe harem, I was informally in charge. Scarlett is used to taking orders from me and she trusts me as a mentor. I might be cold and difficult to be around at times, but I will never lead my team wrong. When I was in Santa Fe, I was an advocate for the harem. Now, I’m an advocate for survivors everywhere.

  "Should I hit them?" Deacon asks.

  I think about it then nod. "Do it."

  Taking out Primitives with a vehicle can be dangerous. Depending on the speed at which we hit them, we could damage the car irreparably. But if we hit going too slow then they might just go under the vehicle and cling to the bottom, or grab hold of the grill until we stop. On one memorable occasion we managed to pick up a Primitive and continue on to our next destination without ever realizing the danger lurking under the car. When we stopped for the night, we got a nasty surprise.

  "Brace," Deacon instructs everyone in the vehicle.

  I'm sitting next to Deacon, so only I can see the satisfied twist to his lips as the car impacts the first Primitive, his bloodlust rising as he closes in on the kill.

  I grip th
e door handle as the car shudders at the impact. Deacon turns the wheel sharply, takes aim and hits another. Blood sprays across the windshield as the Primitive is killed instantly. The body rolls off the vehicle just as Deacon hits the third. We feel the bump as it goes underneath the tires.

  Scarlett turns to look and points when she sees it far behind the car lying on the ground in the dust. The vehicle behind us hits it, ensuring its death if it hadn't died when the first car got it.

  "We're here."

  Sure enough, the pumps have become visible through the dirt thrown up by our wild driving. Without turning, I address the occupants of my car. "Deacon, cover us from the car, but keep your ass in that seat. I need you driving if we have to get out of here quickly. Hugo, you pump the gas while the rest of us cover you."

  The second the car slides to a halt in the dirt next to the pumps, everyone moves. I jump onto the hood and then climb onto the roof, bracing myself as I lift my rifle and take aim at a rapidly approaching Primitive. As the others take their places surrounding the vehicle, I shoot the Primitive in the head. It hits the dirt and rolls, not getting up when it stops.

  Silence reigns for a few seconds and I can hear the click and whoosh of gas as it enters the tank. Then all hell breaks loose, Primitives come at us from every direction. We shoot as though our lives depend on it, because they do.

  We pause only long enough to allow the other car to swing around us and slide to a halt at the pump on the other side. In unison the car empties and everyone takes up position, same as us, while one member of their team starts pumping.

  We've had so much practice at dealing with Primitive attacks that not a single one manages to break the line and get within ten yards of our vehicles. Every bullet counts and every bullet strikes its target. Primitives drop to the ground all around us, creating a grim pile of death that we will drive away from and forget.

  "Cars!"

  The shout comes from Scarlett.

  At first, I have no idea what she's talking about. Cars? In a year of touring the western side of the North American continent, we haven't once come across another vehicle. Travel is dangerous and working vehicles are rare.

  My gaze follows to where Scarlett is pointing and I see that she is correct, puffs of dust on the horizon announces the arrival of several vehicles heading our way. Probably looking for gas, same as us. I have no choice but to ignore them for now as I focus on the problem at hand; killing every Primitive that has staked out the fueling station as a good place to pick off humans. By the time we’re done, not a single one will be left alive.

  "Do you think they're hostile?" Scarlett calls up to me from her position at the rear of the vehicle.

  I let out an annoyed huff and roll my eyes. "How exactly am I supposed to tell that from here?"

  No one says anything as we pick off the last few Primitives. I had hoped that we would have enough time to jump back into the vehicles and leave the site before the other cars arrive, but we're too late. One by one, six vehicles line up facing us, clouds of dust surrounding them and obscuring the faces inside. If the number of cars facing us is any indication of the number of occupants inside, we are sadly outnumbered.

  "Be ready, but not aggressive. Guns down. No shooting unless I say." The last thing I need is for one of my people to get jumpy and kill someone innocent.

  Before the dust can clear, a man emerges. He's tall, broad, with wild dark hair hanging down his shoulders and a beard obscuring half his face. It's not the bottom half of his face that tells me who he is though. It's the one amber eye fixed on me that tells me exactly who’s approaching.

  Deacon twists to look up at me from the driver’s window, his brow raised in question. He wants to know if he should be covering me, but I'm incapable of speaking. Not one single word. That one eye has pinned me to the roof of my car.

  He stops right below me, the dust swirling around the cuffs of his leather pants and his heavy, dirt encrusted boots. He tips his head back and glares. "Skye." That one single word, my name, is filled with meaning. He’s come for me.

  "Wolfe," I answer.

  Seven

  "You," I snarl, bending down to place my hand on the edge of the car and leaping off.

  As my feet hit the dirt, Wolfe reaches out to take hold of me, steadying me. The touch of his hand to my arm is so fraught with sensation that it almost burns. I jerk my arm away from him and take a step back, my ass pressed against the car.

  "I didn't expect to see you again." My words come out with a harsh edge. I don't want him to know how much his leaving the Tucson Sanctuary affected me, but I can't keep the pain and anger from my voice.

  "Told you I'd see you again." His voice is a dark drawl that sends shivers racing up and down my spine.

  "You here for fuel?" I ask him, jerking my head back toward the pumps. "We’re finished. We'll move our cars so you can get in here."

  Wolfe steps toward me, backing me into the vehicle and crowding me with his big body. I suck in a sharp breath as my breasts touch his leather-clad chest. It's been a year since I last saw him, but everything rushes back as though it was only yesterday. The way he smells, the way he talks, everything about him.

  "We're here for you."

  "Thanks," I say, deliberately misunderstanding him. "But we don’t need any help."

  He doesn't answer back right away. He looks around, his gaze settling on the two vehicles that belong to my team, and the people surrounding them. His eye is assessing, cold and calculating as he contemplates my people.

  "You heading to Santa Fe Sanctuary?" he asks.

  I wonder if he’s been keeping tabs on me or if he’s just making an assumption based on how close we are to Santa Fe. I try not to let a thrill of excitement go through me at the thought that Wolfe might be tracking us. There aren't that many usable roads to Santa Fe. He could easily make the assessment that Santa Fe is our destination based on our tracks, the road that we’re travelling and the lack of destinations hereabouts.

  "Yes," I confirm. "I have a vaccine to distribute."

  "Heard about that," he says, his gaze is still on everything except me.

  "We're travelling from Sanctuary to Sanctuary, spreading the vaccine. It seems to be working. We're hearing rumours as we travel that the Sanctuaries we’ve visited are gradually becoming more and more Primitive free." I speak nervously, giving him information as though he requested it. This is what Wolfe does to me; I can be in perfect control, but the moment he's around I become either tongue-tied or the opposite.

  "Heard about that too."

  Wolfe’s ‘man of few words’ thing is starting to irritate me.

  "We’ll be on our way then," I say, attempting to turn away from him to organize my people.

  "We’ll escort you." Wolfe makes it clear that there's no room for argument in his words.

  Still, I argue. "We don't need an escort."

  "Come." He takes my arm and gives me a tug, turning back toward the lineup of cars he came with, as if fully expecting me to follow.

  I dig my heels into the dirt, but he still drags me. Wolfe is a big man, even bigger than I remember. His shoulders are incredibly broad, stretching his shirt until the seams look as though they'll split. His leather pants are also tight, the muscles of his thighs bulging. He was always a big man, but he seems somehow more massive than the last time I’d seen him. He must’ve spent time over the past year doing intense physical labour. I'm curious about what he was doing, but not enough to ask.

  I grab hold of the hand that's wrapped around my bicep and yank on his finger in an attempt to get him to release me. He lets go of my arm for a second, readjusts his hold and continues pulling me.

  "Hold up!" Deacon shouts from the car behind us. I hear the click of his gun cocking.

  A cold sweat settles over me. I know Wolfe. He won't stand for anyone pointing a gun at him, whether they’re an enemy or an ally.

  "Put your gun down," I call quickly to Deacon. "He's not an enemy."

&nb
sp; I don't know if this is true exactly. I don't know what's happened to Wolfe over the past year. He seems to know what's been happening with me. What if he's become an Outsider? He always had it in him. Back in Santa Fe, when I was married to Warlord Silas, I always got the feeling that Wolfe merely paid lip service to the people around him. He was so completely his own man, he could walk out of the palace, out of the Sanctuary, and into the desert and be completely fine.

  In fact, that's exactly what he did after the fall of Santa Fe. He travelled with me to Tucson, helped me reunite with my sister and her husband, then he walked out of my life, leaving only a cryptic message behind. "Come find me when you're ready.” The words that would haunt me for an entire year.

  Was I ready? He had been the one to leave me behind, not the other way around. He told me to come find him, yet here he is. He’s the one to find me.

  When Wolfe continues walking, dragging me toward his car, I twist around to shout at my people, "Follow us!"

  Wolfe opens the passenger side of his car and shoves me inside. I’m so shocked by the entire exchange that I don’t do anything but stare at him as he strides back around to the driver’s side, opening the door and climbing in.

  "Seatbelts." Wolfe says it like it should be automatic, but seatbelts in vehicles rarely work, so most people don't use them. Collisions aren’t common anymore. It's more likely that a vehicle will just break down.

  I stare at him in consternation and he reaches over to pull the belt from a spot just above my shoulder, tugs it across my chest and buckles me in. I'm amazed when I hear the click. Even the seatbelts that do work are rarely used. There's just no point anymore. We live in a dangerous world; car accidents are the least of our difficulties. I wiggle experimentally, pulling at it where it sits on my chest.