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it? Damn, her head was so muddled. With a groan she realized that she still had too much blood missing to think clearly. Pushing through the doors and taking a deep breath of the night air, Malorie almost wept in relief; they were almost to the truck, almost free. She pressed her teeth together, pursing her lips, “What if they follow us?”
    Her father chuckled, hugging her with an added squeeze, “Don’t worry, Mal; I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
    Lowering her chin, she almost smiled at the comment; he had always been her rock. Thank God he was around; if not for him, Toby would not have a mother right now. The thought of leaving her son behind sent a shard of white hot guilt and pain through her; she would have died in a monster’s arms and not cared about orphaning her beautiful son. A sob escaped from her taut chest, “I’m so sorry, father.”
    “None of that,” he grumbled, opening the passenger-side door of their truck and pushing her in. Closing the door, he made his way around to the other side. Climbing in, he leaned forward to check and see if anyone was close enough to get a license plate number, grateful to find that no one had made it out of the building yet. Still, they were going to have to make a run for it sooner than they expected. “You buckled in, Mal?”
    Her head lolled forward and he tsked, reaching across her body and buckling her in. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he murmured, “Get some rest, Mal; we’ll get home soon enough.”
    “Hmm,” she murmured, her eyes already closed as the memories of the last few hours swirled through her head.
    “After you’ve had some rest, we have to talk,” Gus practically growled, making her cringe; she knew that she was in for a long, heated lecture.
     
     

Chapter 3
     
     
    Malorie startled awake, her arm tingling and her head aching. She felt as if she hadn’t had anything to drink in days, her throat dry and parched. She started to lift her arm but something was attached to it and she felt the sharp stab as a needle shifted beneath her skin. As she hissed in a breath, her father reached over and turned on a low light. Immediately, she saw the tube of blood traveling from his arm into hers, replenishing the missing blood. Arching a brow, she looked up at Gus.
    “We need you to be in tip top shape, Mal,” he answered roughly. “We have no idea what’s coming and we might have to make a run for it.”
    She had lost count of the number of times they had moved; twenty eight? Thirty? She had been the one who insisted on staying in one place for a while, who had grown complacent and lowered her guard. The lecture Gus was going to be giving her was going to blister her ears and her stomach quelled in trepidation. Being yelled at by her father, especially for something so… stupid, was going to be humiliating. Without laying into her yet, he handed her a glass of orange juice, “Drink this; it will help.”
    She drank it down without question, the citrus flavor bursting on her tongue and filling her senses with liquid sunshine. Her eyes closed in a moment of pure pleasure, of having her thirst finally quenched and giving her a moment to collect herself before getting soundly scolded. As his blood flowed into her veins, she studied this man, her father, and it was as if he were a stranger. She had never seen Gus looking so grim and resigned. She searched his face but he refused to meet her questing eyes and after a long, excruciating silence, he rumbled, “We have to talk.”
    Oh, God; she hated it when she disappointed her him. Her stomach was in knots but she refused to display any weakness. Straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders as much as possible while lying down on, she faced him. “Father….”
    “Tell me what happened, Malorie,” he interrupted sternly, making her swallow back an apology. He licked his lips and for a long moment looked everywhere else but at her. He took a deep breath and finally met her