Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Mercy Thompson characters. BUT THIS STORY 'LONE COYOTE' IS MINE! GRRR…

This book takes place right after the talk in Adam's room where Adam grabs Mercy from under the bed and has a talk with her. Anything after that moment in the book (IRON KISSED) didn't happen. Mercy has other plans of how to heal. Her plans don't involve tainting the pack any further.

MERCY POV

After "The TALK" in Adam's room, where I cowered under the bed like some scared helpless dog wanting to be mauled to death because of my stupidity, the decision to leave plagued my every thought. My shame, my embarrassment, my memory of that horrible night with Tim has change the way I think and feel permanently. That dreadful night mentally drained my sanity. Every time I think of Tim or hear the name Tim, I feel filthy and worthless triggering the need to jump off the Columbia River Bridge because no one wants something as tainted as me. I have tried and tried to put that whole experience with Tim behind me, but have been miserably failing. I sometimes even still feel him inside me and his scent still lingers on every inch of my body causing me to yearn for a shower. That dark magic stain Tim left on me has become a parasite feeding on my every emotion. I don't know which way is up or down anymore and my body has refused to phase to my human "Mercy" form. I think it's my coyote-self protecting the weak human. My coyote-self at the moment is physically and mentally stronger and isn't allowing me to phase to the human that was raped and almost killed, the human that drank magic willfully. My need to protect myself and run—run for my life—is all I can think of doing (it's the only thought that makes sense). Maybe if I see new surroundings, a new life, and a new…love, I can be the old Mercy again.

I hope I don't regret my decision to finally leave the Tri-Cities. That night, the decision to leave was inevitable. Adam had become so volatile, not toward me, but to anyone who neared us when he was with me, became very concerning. Especially knowing that some of the pack resented me gravely, leaving was unavoidable. Adam's pack was becoming chaotic and it was my fault. His second and third in command were left to handle the wolves when Adam was home with me (in coyote-form). He rarely left me to myself. He rarely let me out of his sight. On the few occasions when he did leave for work, he always left 2-3 wolves with me. But the night I left was different—that night was my chance. Adam had a work-related emergency and hadn't properly left his usual guards or planned his tight nit security team. Adam had left only two wolves that were available to watch over me—Honey and Mary Jo. And I feel Mary Jo, who is one of my favorite wolves, sort of let me leave. She had sensed me sneak out while she and Honey were resting on the floor near my bed. I saw her open her eyes for a brief second, but she didn't stop me. Maybe she was one of the few wolves that would have fought me in due time—killing the weakest link. In Mary Jo's defense, maybe she thought I was heading downstairs for a bite to eat—but then again maybe not.

Walking down the hall, I remember passing Jesse's closed door, and lingered for a brief minute causing me to rethink my decision to leave, but then I remembered that I'm a worthless piece of shit and no one wants something as wounded and weak as me around—especially a bunch of strong powerful wolves.

If I had stayed with Adam, I would've been the infected wound that festers around the pack contaminating the whole unit structure. It would only have been a matter of time before one of the pack members would attempt to kill me—the wounded weak member. But the reason I left wasn't to save my life or the fear to being mauled; I left to save Adam and his pack. Adam would have fought to the death to protect me or he would have destroyed his whole pack in the process. I love Adam and Jesse too much to do that to them. I even love some of the pack, they deserve better than someone like me.

After lingering at Jesse's doorstep I heard him in the distance. The time was 10:30—he was off work. My coyote senses heard Samuel's car drive up to our trailer across the way, and I had to act fast. Samuel usually made his visits after work to Adam's after a shower—so I had about 30 minutes to run as far as I could before Sam came over and found me missing. I snuck down the stairs and the scent of two wolves lingering in the kitchen stopped me in my tracks—Ben and Paul. I had to act fast, if I was to escape unnoticed. Miraculously, I found my opportunity when a gust of wind flapped the living room curtains left and right. I crouched as low as I could toward the open window and immediately froze when I heard Ben's voice nearing me—he was headed for the living room.

"That's bollocks. I'll bet you my left testicle that she was a he. I could smell his balls from the other side of the club…"

Damn it, if I weren't so wounded and in coyote form, I would have slapped Ben for speaking like this while Jesse was in the house somewhere. My eyes scanned over to the hall that connected the kitchen to the living room and my limbs locked as I saw the back of Ben's body near the doorframe. He was still facing the kitchen, but was taking steps back and laughing at Paul. I slowly crouched to the back of the beautiful black leather couch and hid behind it but within seconds I eased up my stance when I heard Paul's response to Ben and Ben rushing back into the kitchen to poke fun at Paul's crush on a shee-him. That was my chance; I placed my paws on the window-seal and used my teeth to rip open the screen. My front legs then quickly lifted my 30-pound body with ease and I was outside in seconds, but immediately I smelled them. Of course Adam would have security wolves out here making rounds. So even last minute, he had thought of every avenue. Fortunately for me, the wolves patrolling were unaware of my escape…yet. I ran toward my only destination—the river, and luckily I ran the way of the wind, which was to my benefit, as my scent would be carried with me not away from me toward the protecting wolves. I was half way to my destination when I heard him. Ben's howling scream echoed and I knew my escape was finally noticed. I also knew by the distance of the howl that he was still near the house. I kicked my legs faster against the earth and sped up. I could only taste my sovereignty—it was close. A deep growl escaped my throat; my coyote sensed they were all after me—all of them. My coyote self wanted to hide not keep running, but my human self was stronger this time, she wanted to be free, free from judgment, free from the memories, free from the filth Tim left. Although, it may seem that I was racing to my death that assumption is completely wrong. The bridge wasn't my death it was my escape. I didn't want to kill myself—coyote's unlike werewolves can swim. I just wanted to flee—I just wanted to leave before the empty hole Tim left grew bigger.

It only took seconds and the moment the scent of river-water reached me, I leaped like a gazelle wanting to get there sooner. My legs then touched the bridge and without looking back or rethinking my decision, I jumped. I swam the way of the current but my little coyote body was thrashed left and right. It tossed me under water, it tossed me against rocks, and it tossed against big debris. The moment I was able to peek my head out the water to breath and to look around, I saw no wolves, no wolves following along the river, and no wolves in the water. My heart immediately sank down deep in my chest aching. Maybe, they didn't want me in the pack after all. The river current then kicked up a notch and I sunk down underwater for what seemed like 10 minutes. When I surfaced again, I quickly was able to glance at the bridge and I saw them. They were there and they were in human-form watching me drift down river. Just then another strong current forced me under and the next time I popped up I was unable to see the bridge or my audience. At that moment, I gave up. My four legs gave up kicking and my tired body just went limp.

"Look Albert…what is it?"

Their voices woke me. I was able to pry my eyes open just a slit. They were on a big fishing boat. It was two middle-aged men—human. I then noticed that I was still in the water and half my coyote body was floating on my ancient walking stick. I let out a weak gruffly laugh, and licked my stick to give thanks.

"Shit Tommy, it's alive. Get the net."

"Al, what if it attacks us when we save it?"

"Are you scared of a 20 pound dog? What are you 280-290lbs?"

"You don't have to insult…I'm just saying it might want to bite us and then jump back in the water."

"Look it's floating on a stick, I think it wants to be saved."

Bless Tommy's heart, but deep inside, I think I deserved NOT to be saved.

I closed my eyes praying the current would take me under again, but instead of a current, a metal-netted object attached itself around my body and I flashed my eyes wide open.

"More like 40 to 50 pounds Tommy, damn this dog is heavy."

I attempted to struggle my way out the net but without my walking stick I was hopeless, I started to sink and hit the bottom of the net underwater. The walking stick was also stuck but its thinner bottom pocked outside the net and its wider top-half was stuck in the net. Then with a quick pull, the net flew up in the air and I landed with a loud thump on the boat.

The two humans started to make noises—the kind one uses for dogs to come to you. With my tail between my legs, I crouched my way out of the net and toward a far corner away from the humans.

"Al, we better just leave it be for a while. It's scared."

"Hey do we still got that bison meat in the freezer…maybe this one would love some."

I ducked my head under my tail, as soon as I heard them descend down the cabin. They were arguing about something on the way down, but I ignored them and let my tired wet body sleep. I will think of a way out of here after a little shut-eye.

The scent of salty air woke me. Salty air? I lifted my head from my now dry tail. The sun was at a high point in the sky, which meant I slept to about noontime. Both men had fishing poles in the water, but were seated on two chairs that were attached to the boat—the kind of chairs you see on deep sea fishing boats.

"Hey girl, you're finally up. You hungry?"

Tom got up and went down in the cabin. Albert remained in place drinking a Corona looking out at the water. I heard Tom coming up and the scent of raw bison meat completely got my attention and surprisingly I walked toward the stairs and waited. I then started to wag my tail at the first site of Tom and the plate to meat.

"Damn Al, what kind of dog you think she is. She looks like a coyote…a tame coyote."

Al's chair squeaked as if he turned around to look at me.

"Looks like a mutt to me Tom. She looks too big to be a coyote."

Tom just shrugged his shoulders and placed the plate in front of me. He remained crouched next to the plate and I stayed motionless, not certain of how to approach my meal with Tom still lingering.

"Come on girl. I won't hurt you."

I glanced at Tom, he wasn't lying about not hurting me—he was telling the truth. He reached over and petted my right ear. I then tilted my head up and licked his hand. Tom smiled and slowly stood. That was then my signal to eat. I practically swallowed one of the slabs of bison meat.

"Easy girl…or you'll get sick."

Not listening to his warning, I swallowed the last piece of bison and licked the plate clean.

"I hope you like sailing girl, cuz we're headed back to the east coast."

East coast?

I quickly raced over to the side of the boat, and indeed we were deep in the ocean. To the left of us was land, and to the right-miles and miles of ocean. The land I did see still looked like Washington or even Oregon as the big Red Wood trees were still visible.

The East Coast…Adam or Bran will never find me on the East Coast. This is fate. This is where I'm supposed to be.

"Hey Tom, what if this dog belongs to someone…what if there is an anxious child waiting for it's return."

I turned my head away from the ocean and glanced toward my two new human friends. They were both looking in my direction—Al looked worried, but Tom had a big goofy grin on his face.

"Well Al, look at it this way. If we didn't stumble across it, she would have been dead anyway. So I think it's my turn to have a good dog again. It's their fault for letting her get loose and worse almost drown."

With that, I turned again to the ocean, letting the cool breeze hit my face. This was my first taste of Freedom—no Bran to bark orders to me, no Adam to dictate my actions to, no pack to judge me, and no surroundings that reminded me of Tim.

Freedom.