The light inside the car comes on, and the lion’s eyes narrow like it knows what I’m about to do. I freeze, too terrified to move. Then it charges. I swing the door open, and the animal slams into the side of my car with a crunchy thud.
I have one whole leg inside the vehicle when there is a streak of movement in my periphery. The other mountain lion closes in from behind. I’ll never get the door shut in time.
My entire short life flashes before my eyes and wraps up with the sad realization that I will be remembered as the girl that got maimed to death in her own car in the rear parking lot of the pizza restaurant while her extra-sausage pizza lie out in the rain.
My certain death plays out in my head for a moment before I realize it probably should have been over by now. I don’t know how long I have been staring at the pizza box on the ground, wondering when I dropped it and how it managed to land bottom side down, when I finally look up to see what is taking death so long. Sure, it’s raining and dark and I’m clearly not good in high-pressure situations, but I don’t think I imagine what I see now.
The mountain lions have been joined by a wolf. Not just any wolf, but the same exceptionally large silver I saw the other night. It stands between me and the two mountain lions as if to protect me.
They were close enough to feel the rumble of their growls a moment ago. Now they’re on the other side of the parking lot, running backward as they flee the intimidating wolf. They reach the alley and take off with their tails tucked between their legs.
My attention shifts to the wolf. For the first time, I realize how close it is to me. Close enough to reach out and touch its tail if I desire to know what a wolf’s tail feels like. Since I prefer having two hands and all ten fingers, I keep my arms tucked to my sides.
I inch backward, attempting to slide the rest of the way into my car without the wolf knowing. I’m not as slick as I think I am, because the wolf turns its head to look directly at me.
Nothing moves. Not me. Not the wolf. Not the air currently trapped in my lungs. Only a light rain continues to fall.
I feel as if I’m drowning in the waves of Arctic blue that stare back at me, unblinking and unwavering. They’re strangely familiar to me—as is the beautiful creature they belong to—though I struggle to connect any two rational dots.
Irrational dots? Yeah, I’ve got plenty of those strung together.
For reasons I won’t fully understand until my first visit with a therapist, I break eye contact with the wolf. I glance at the pizza box and the baseball cap laying on top of it. Back at the wolf. Then the ball cap again.
It’s not me who speaks, but a tiny unfamiliar voice inside of me—who clearly needs a psych evaluation because she says, “Luca.”
A low growly noise comes from the wolf, and I know I screwed up. I don’t know what possessed me to think of him now of all times. What I need to do is keep my mouth shut and get in the car.
First, I need to pry my gaze off of the wolf, but I can’t manage to do it. It stares back, then turns its entire body to angle one massive paw toward me. Still, I don’t do what I should do. I don’t look away. I don’t move.
I may be the dumbest person Darwinism hasn’t yet eliminated, but I prefer to call it pride. I hold my ground, staring down a wolf of record-breaking size. The animal huffs once. My eyes narrow in a silent display of stubbornness.
A growl vibrates deep in its throat, but it doesn’t sound menacing. If it’s possible for a wolf to be annoyed, then that is what this noise sounds like.
Suddenly, the wolf turns and runs across the parking lot. I watch as it disappears into the night.
I don’t know how long I stand there, regaining control of my breathing, before I move. It feels like hours but is probably closer to seconds.
I pick up the wet pizza box, which appears surprisingly undamaged, and the baseball cap. I set both on the passenger seat of my car before I slide behind the wheel and turn on the engine.
I sit there in silence as the shakes come. They consume me, and I give myself over to the rush of adrenaline and late onset of fear.
“I could have died,” I mutter to my car. I pause to listen to the soft hum of the engine before I add, “Again.”
That’s twice in a week Mother Nature has had it out for me. Everything around me feels like a threat . . . except for that silver wolf.
“I stared down a wolf and it . . . it saved me,” I reason aloud.
I glance at the cap beside me. I’m positive it’s Luca’s, which means that Luca has been in the vicinity both times. Most would consider it a coincidence, but I’m not a firm believer in coincidences. I tend to think things happen for a reason, even if those reasons are not always easy to understand.
Whatever Luca’s connection may or may not be, I don’t know yet. What I do know is that he was here at some point tonight. He may still be here.
I turn on the windshield wipers and look for a vehicle that a rich guy might drive. It doesn’t take long to spot the black Range Rover parked in the corner. The windows are heavily tinted so I can’t see inside. I can read the license plate though, and I type it into my phone.
I don’t know what I will do with the information yet, but I plan to start getting some answers. Starting with who exactly Luca Caspan is.
Chapter 7
I’m attacked three days later, in broad daylight.
The moment I step out of my car in the Hilderness employee parking lot, they are on me. It’s supposed to be a safe zone. To be held at gunpoint by two prepubescent campers before clocking in for my shift is the last thing I expect.
The scream that flies out of my mouth is real. So I’ve been a little jumpy lately.
I toss them a handful of flags. They give me a wide berth and the crazy-lady stare as they scamper off in search of another unsuspecting employee. I’m confident I won’t be seeing them again anytime soon.
Inside the safety of the office, Danny asks me what job I want. I choose to work the front desk, and he places the back of his hand to my forehead.
His lips purse. “Are you feeling okay? Feverish?” He quickly backs away from me with a knowing grimace. “Is it that time of the month?”
“No, Danny. I’m fine,” I sigh. “I need a quiet, low-stress day.”
Indoors, I mentally add, where I am less likely to encounter another wild animal. Or Luca. I’m thinking, and dreaming, about him enough. I don’t need to see him in person, too.
Danny jots something into his manager notebook before looking up with a frown. “Cassie’s starting in the office at noon. You know she’ll kick you out.”
I suppress an eye roll. “She’s the worst.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. Do you want . . .” Danny glances down at the notebook. “Crafts or pool in the afternoon? I’ll warn you now, Mel is lifeguarding.”
“Those are my only options?”
Danny shrugs.
“Fine,” I grumble. “I guess I’ll take the pool.”
At least I will have the protection of a fence. It’s better than the craft pavilion. The problem is that it’s supposed to be a hot day. The pool will be packed, and I suspect Luca and his friends are more pool-and-girls-in-bikinis kind of guys than the crafts-and-small-children type.