Chapter 9

Finley pushed the heavy hospital bed down the overgrown stone path of the backyard.

The rubber wheels rolled over dead, brittle branches. The wood snapped with loud, sharp cracks that echoed in the quiet yard.

At the far end of the property sat a wooden shed. The roof sagged. The paint peeled off in large, gray strips.

The air around the shed smelled thick. It smelled of damp mold and rotting leaves.

Finley stopped the bed ten feet away. He narrowed his eyes. He scanned the dark shadows beneath the overgrown bushes.

Amari pushed herself up on her good elbow. She stared at the half-open door of the shed. She opened her mouth and made a soft, unique trilling sound with her tongue.

It was a gentle, intimate noise, a secret language only she and Ghost understood, completely impossible for anyone else to perfectly mimic.

Finley raised his eyebrows. He looked down at his niece, confused by the noise.

A shadow moved inside the shed.

A cat stepped out into the daylight. It was large and sleek. Its black fur absorbed the sunlight like velvet. It didn't walk like a stray. It moved with slow, deliberate steps. It looked like a king inspecting his ruined castle.

Ghost walked up to the bed. He coiled his back legs and leaped. He landed silently on the white hospital blanket.

He sat down. He lifted his head. His eyes locked onto Finley's face.

The cat had heterochromia. The left eye was a deep, glowing amber. The right eye was a piercing, icy blue.

Finley stared into those eyes. A sudden, sharp spike of pain hit the front of his skull. He winced.

The gaze didn't feel like an animal's. It felt heavy. It felt like a human soul was trapped inside the skull, staring out with pure, calculated hostility.

Finley's heart rate spiked. His instincts kicked in. He took a step back. His right hand dropped to his waist, his fingers brushing the handle of the tactical dagger clipped to his belt.

Ghost's lips curled back. A low, vibrating growl rumbled in his throat.

Amari reached out. Her small hands grabbed the thick black fur around Ghost's neck.

She pulled the cat against her chest. She buried her face in his back. "It's okay, Ghost. They're nice. They saved us."

The growl stopped instantly. The hostility vanished from the cat's posture. Ghost relaxed his muscles. He rubbed his head against Amari's chin.

He leaned forward. His rough pink tongue gently licked the edge of the white gauze taped to Amari's cheek.

Finley let out a long breath. He wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead.

He took a step forward. He reached his hand out to pet the top of the cat's head.

Ghost snapped his head to the side. He dodged the hand completely. His mismatched eyes glared at Finley, cold and warning.

Finley awkwardly pulled his hand back. He cleared his throat. He grabbed the rails of the bed and turned it around.

They rolled back across the grass and entered the living room. The rest of the family waited.

Andres looked at the black cat sitting on Amari's chest. He frowned, his medical mind calculating the infection risk, but he kept his mouth shut.

The guards formed a tight perimeter. They escorted the family out the front door.

The convoy of black SUVs roared to life. They pulled away from the curb, leaving the ruined house behind, and headed toward the private airstrip.