Shooting them was talked about, as was an open ambush during their next lesson, but neither plan was acted upon. In their conditions - both of their wounds angry red and leaking blood - they couldn't be sure of victory. The evil twins wouldn't underestimate their prey again though, and hunkered down to wait for their moment of triumph.
7
Angela's dreams were worse than usual, and she jerked awake to see Marc already sitting up, watching her with concerned eyes.
"Is there a problem?"
She shook her head, keeping the thick quilt around her shoulders as she headed for the door. Not bothering with her shoes, when she slipped outside, Marc waved the wolf after her and got up.
She was jumpy, more so now than the night they'd been reunited, and she never slept for more than a few hours without her nightmares interrupting. It made him a little more nervous and a lot more pissed with each passing day. Her man was definitely going to be taught a lesson. How hard it would be was the only unknown.
Marc put his hands to work, caring for his guns yet again, as his ears strained to hear any noise outside. He finished with the beautiful, matching Colt's and slid them onto his hips with a feeling of completeness he knew not to put much faith in. Being good with a gun wasn't nearly enough now. It took listening to everything around you, but mostly to your gut. His was telling him that this mess was all his fault, and the time had come to fix it. He was a United States Marine, and it was his duty to open the door to her cage.
Shivering, Angela sat in the back seat of her Blazer, the open door letting the wind swirl dark flakes inside. Her mind was awash with the past - her man's violence, mixed with childhood demons, and the horror of seeing the War up close - and she wished she didn't have to sleep. She would never have an unbroken night's rest again until she was with her son.
"The arms of the man, your new guardian, would ease these things. His heart is pure."
Angela frowned at the wolf, shaking her head. She had little doubt it would work, but Marc would never just offer, and she couldn't imagine asking. It went against everything she'd had beaten into her.
"This man is not the same. He is yours."
She shook her head again. "Not anymore. That was a long time ago."
"Then why does it feel like it was yesterday?" the old Angela questioned.