Page 88 of Chasing The Alpha's Son
I clutch the door handle and my chest as the world comes back into focus. The windows are intact. We’re back in the mountains. The woman and the water tower are gone. But the impact I felt is still reeling through my body.
“Max, what’s wrong?!” Jasper shouts as the car careens forward.
His foot is all the way on the floor, but the road is icy and we’re sliding. He tries to steer us to the right, to get us back on the tarmac, but he’s already lost control. We drift sideways toward the next turn, where we’re surely about to go flying off.
I’m still screaming as we approach the edge, picturing our fiery deaths, while Jasper tries desperately to regain some control over the car. But as we drift off the edge, land rises to meet us. We’ve reached the bottom of the valley, and instead of falling, we screech to a stop.
Remind me to stop letting Jasper drive.
“What’s wrong?” Jasper says, turning with fear in his eyes.
“Nothing, it was… I just…” But I can’t explain it.
What was that? A vision or a dream? And how am I supposed to tell Jasper that I saw his mom—that I was in the car with her when she… When she… I lift a hand to my mouth, staring wide-eyed at Jasper. Because he was there too.
Jasper was in the car with his mother when she was driven off the road.
“Say something,” Jasper says, his face as white as the snow outside.
“I’m fine.”
He reaches out a hand and another stab of pain radiates through my brain.
“Don’t.”
He pulls back.
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he says. That’s a change—I was expecting him to chew me right out. “It’s lucky we weren’t farther up. We must be close now.”
He turns the key in the ignition but it won’t roll over; he tries again but the car makes this unhealthy noise, then sputters out.
“Crap,” he says.
We sit for a moment, taking stock of our situation. We’re stuck at the bottom of the mountain, in a car that won’t drive, with no heating, in the middle of a snowstorm, and oh yeah, the blood moon has messed me all the way up.
A knock at the window sends us both jumping out of our skin. Behind Jasper, a guy in a puffer jacket with a fur-trimmed hood pulled tight is tapping on the window. A little ways behind him, what looks like a snowmobile is standing at an angle, headlights on full beam.
“Need a ride?”
By the time we arrive wherever we are, I’m starting to pass in and out of consciousness. As if living through two car crashes––one in a vision and one very much real––wasn’t enough, seating space on the snowmobile was extremely limited. I spent the entire ride with Jasper holding onto me. His grip was the only thing that kept me from falling off, but wherever our bodies touched my skin felt like it was burning.
I’m lifted from the snowmobile, Jasper’s arms strong beneath me, and carried into what looks like an oversized ice-fishing hut. Inside the wooden cabin the lighting is dim, but it’s warm and there’s a calming scent in the air like incense or spices.
“Over there,” our rescuer says, and Jasper lays me down gently on a bed.
I try to sit up but can’t, and Jasper holds my shoulders, keeping me still.
“Agatha,” the puffer jacket guy says and disappears through a curtained doorway.
“We’re here,” Jasper says, placing a hand on my cheek before backing away.
The rustle of a beaded curtain tells me that someone has arrived in the space, but I’m too weak to look up. My eyes won’t open all the way, and what little light there is diffuses in my vision like I’m seeing through a screen.
“So, this is the blood wolf?” a woman’s coarse voice asks.
“Can you help him?” Jasper replies.
