The Neutral Zone

Headlights swept across the glass front of the laundromat.

Jamie scrambled up, panic giving him a sudden surge of adrenaline. He looked out the window. A black SUV was rolling slowly through the rain-slicked parking lot. On the side door, visible even through the downpour, was the silver crest of the River-Rock Pack.

"It's them," Jamie gasped. "They’re checking the borders."

If they found him here—broken, rejected, smelling of failure—they wouldn't take him home. They would drive him to the county line and dump him. Or worse, drag him back to the compound to be confined in the Omega quarters until the shame wore off.

Jamie tried to scramble off the dryer, aiming for the back emergency exit.

"I can't let them see me," Jamie cried, his legs giving out as he hit the floor. He stumbled, falling to his knees.

Cole moved. He was fast, faster than a human should be. He caught Jamie by the arm before he could faceplant into the linoleum.

"Let me go!" Jamie struggled, but his strength was gone. "I have to run!"

"You go out there in the storm, the fever kills you tonight," Cole snapped, holding him upright. "You won't make it a mile."

"I don't care!" Jamie sobbed, the fight draining out of him. He sagged against Cole’s chest, the mechanic’s shirt rough against his cheek. "I’d rather die than have them look at me. Please. I can't... I can't be the broken thing they talk about."

Cole looked at the SUV. It was idling near the entrance. The window was rolling down.

Cole cursed under his breath. He looked down at the boy in his arms. Jamie was burning up, his skin radiating heat.

Cole made a choice. He stripped off his heavy canvas jacket. It smelled of motor oil, rain, and deep, earthy musk—a neutral, grounding Alpha scent that had no pack allegiance.

He threw it over Jamie’s shoulders, pulling the hood up to cover the boy’s face and the rejection mark.

"My truck’s out back," Cole said, his voice low and urgent. "I live in the Neutral Zone. No pack rules. No hierarchy."

Jamie froze. He looked up at Cole. He saw the scar on Cole’s brow, the hardness in his eyes, but also a strange, reluctant safety.

"Why?" Jamie whispered.

"Because I hate that SUV," Cole grunted. "Can you walk?"

Jamie nodded weakly.

"Then move."

Cole kicked the back door open. The wind howled, instantly soaking them.

They ran. Jamie stumbled, but Cole’s arm was a steel band around his waist, half-carrying him through the mud to a beat-up Ford pickup parked in the shadows.

Cole shoved Jamie into the passenger seat and slammed the door. He vaulted into the driver's side and keyed the ignition. The engine roared to life with a defiant growl.

As they peeled out of the lot, Jamie looked in the side mirror. The black SUV was still sitting there, ominous and silent.

Cole didn't look back. He hit the highway, driving away from the territory, away from the River-Rock Pack, and into the darkness of the open road.

Jamie pulled Cole’s jacket tighter around himself. The scent of motor oil was heavy, masking the smell of burnt sugar. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window. The fever was still raging, his heart was still broken, and he had no idea where he was going.

But as the lights of the pack lands faded into the rearview mirror, the violent shivering finally stopped. He closed his eyes, listening to the hum of the engine, and let the static take him.