Shedding Lies: For more than a decade, mates Baz and Charlie have lived separate lives. Baz has spent much of it on the road as the president of the Howling Devils Motorcycle Club, protectors of the Comet Lake Pack, and one of the biggest contributors to the pack's financial success. Charlie, on the other hand, has spent his whole life on pack lands trying to move past the accusations that cost him five years of good standing among his friends and family. Between bitterness, loneliness and a longing for the truth, he's harbored ill will towards his mate, even after Baz keeps his promise about turning over their mate if he should ever find the wolf meant to be their third. Now Kale is living with Charlie, wanting to learn more about Baz, and struggling to process the events that landed him at Comet Lake. Unfortunately for the three of them, the past hasn't finished wreaking havoc on their lives. If they are to have any hope of a future, they must first shred the lies of the past.
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The river was a little
closer from this vantage point, the churning of the water much wilder as he
peered over the edge of the bridge staring down into it. A cool wind made the
hair on the back of his neck stand up seconds before he heard the crack of rifle
fire.
He expected pain, only
to feel nothing but another gust of wind. A second shot joined the first,
coming from a slightly different direction and Baz knew with sudden clarity he
was about to wander into someone’s hunt.
Not a wise thing to do
when you have no idea who was doing the shooting or how good of a shot they
were. Tugging his foot free of the boards, he righted himself and turned back
the way he came, though no more gunshots filled the valley.
A good sign,
hopefully. It was never a good thing for a hunter to lose their prey,
especially when there were family and pups involved. Once, he and Charlie had
plans for that to be them, only they never would have hunted with weapons, only
teeth and claws. Melancholy descended again, leaving him clumsy and a bit off
balance, distracted enough that as he reached the edge of the bridge, he forgot
the boards that had cracked ominously early in his trek. His thoughts were on
decades-old dreams, so much so that he lacked the presence of mind to grab hold
of anything when they gave way beneath him. With a suddenness that took his
breath away, he dropped through space, arms windmilling, feet kicking as if
looking for a purchase that never came.
Striking the water was
like getting thrown from his bike and landing on the pavement, the smack of it
sickeningly hard and so swift it took his brain several seconds to register the
pain. By then, his head was underwater, so the breath he sucked in was a wet,
suffocating one. Choking, he struggled to get his head above the surface, even
as the current dashed him against a couple of rocks. His boots and clothing
weighed him down and kept him from shifting, the swiftness of the water kept
him disoriented and unable to work out which way was up. He took another
breath, but that was water again, and there were so many voices in his mind,
reaching out to touch base and check on him, that he couldn’t believe he'd been
on the verge of giving in to the misguided thought that no one would look for
him if he was gone.
From the sound of
things, they were looking for him now, some more frantically than others. There
was the faint buzzing of Kale trying to make clearer contact and a loud,
demanding roar that was unmistakably Charlie, wanting to know where the fuck he
was.
Air.
Gulping, he reached
out with shaky fingers, trying to find purchase on something, anything, before
the river spun him around and sucked him under again. His back struck another
of those god damned boulders hard enough to drive that precious lungful of water
right back out of him, and once again he was choking, his vision narrowing down
to a tunnel of ever-darkening spots.
It dawned on him then
that he wasn’t getting out of this, and for as much as he’d wanted all of his
pain and disappointment to end, it sucked that it should be like this.
Desperate, he thrashed, flailed, and managed to struggle his way to the surface
again, draw in air, and reach out with questing fingers. His sodden hair and
the water in his eyes made it difficult to see anything more than water and
rocks, but one of them….
Yes.
As the river spun him
towards it, Baz welcomed the crash and even braced for it, wrapped his arms
around it when he hit, and clung to that slippery surface with every shred of
desire he had in him. His lungs burned as he coughed, trying to clear them, wheezing
and choking as he tried choking air in too. His chest hurt, his body ached, but
the dark spots were clearing and the bolder wasn’t too fat for him to keep his
arms locked around, anchoring him in place.
I swear to fuck, if
you don’t fuckin’ answer me there will be hell to pay when I find you!
Charlie again, and he
sounded clearer as he growled in Baz’s head.
River.
Which one?
Beneath the old
swinging bridge.
Are you out of your
fuckin’ mind that bridge is rotten?
No shit.
Can you get out?
Not without almost
drowning again.
Then stay where the
fuck you are.
Working on it.
You better be!
He’d have laughed if
he could have breathed well enough to manage it. Even concerned Charlie just
sounded pissed off and aggravated with him.
Which fuckin’ end,
cliff or valley?
Cliff
Fuck.
Tell me about it.
It would be harder for
Charlie to get down there, especially if he was alone. Would be even harder for
him to get to Baz, no matter which form he took. The river wasn’t playing
today, and the last thing he wanted was for his mate to get caught in the same
mess that had almost killed him.
Might still kill him,
the voice in the back of his head reminded him.
Yeah, there was that
chance too, and it wasn’t one he wanted Charlie to have to witness.
Need you to listen to
me, Baz thought,
reaching out to him again. I don’t want you to come down here.
I’m going to pretend I
didn’t hear that.
Just listen to me,
okay, for once just… allow me to say what I need to.
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